The Highly "Influenced" Advetures of Mick, Mike, Dan and Pat.

by Daniel Johns

Episode 4: A Cross Journey

We stood outside waiting for a taxi to arrive. They were usually few and far between on a Friday night and there seemed to be a semi-organised cue for them. We had no time for that. There had been too much havack caused that night for us to be just standing around waiting to be picked up by by a paddy-wagon. We all simultaneously spotted a cab with its "vacant" light on. We extended our hailing arms, waving them rantedly like we needed to be rescued from some sort of evil, life threatening situation. The cab, however, chose to acknowledge the semi-organised cue which now had accumulated to about ten or so people. We hurried over, believing at the time that we had a justified reason to push in in front of everyone and then dissappear. Things didn't work out so simple though. A group of four twenty-something year olds were already half way into the cab when we arrived. Patrick led the coup. "We need this cab".

"What?" said a man with a beard who was opening the door for his crew to hop in the back.

"We need this cab man. You see my friend," said Patrick pulling me over "my friend has epilepsy and he feels a fit coming on." I nodded my head in anguish not knowing exactly how a person who was about to have a fit would behave.

"What the fuck are you talking about? You can't feel a fit coming on. Its something that just happens! We were here first!" exclaimed the bearded one.

"Oh and who the fuck are you? Dr.Flynn Medicine Women you fucking moron?!".

Things were getting heated. The cab driver looked angry. I was hoping I wouldn't have to act out a fit just to prove Patrick's point but I knew we had to leave in a hurry. We were also causing quite a scene. "Oh shit!" I said.

"What?" said Patrick who was just about to knock the hairy one out.

"It's getting worse!". I wondered how convincing I was. "You see what you're doing dickhead?! He's going to die if you don't get the fuck out!". Mick and Mike joined in urging the people to leave the cab. The pressure was getting to much for them. They finally broke and left in hurry. A couple of them were crying. We hopped in quickly and closed the doors. The driver looked panic struck. "To the hospital?" he inquired. "No just straight to Kings Cross please." replied Patrick. "But there's no hospital in Ki-".The driver examined me through the rear vision mirror. He'd realised what was going on and a look of dissapproval came over his face.

We needed to be in a place of obscurity. A place where we could be away of this self-inflicted madness. We'd caused too much trouble that night: a murdered lad at the Underground, a barmaid in a coma she'd probably never come out of as well as multiple terrorised citizens. This was nothing out of the usual, but it was enough to get us into a lot of trouble if we didn't find somewhere to hide and compose ourselves before heading home. Most important of all, we needed to keep a low profile from this point onwards. There'd probably been several calls to the police by now from startled witnesses. They were probably right on our trail now. I looked out of the rear window of the cab but saw nothing but a deserted trail through the early morning fog. The cross would be a good place to go. Our felonies would seem petty compared to the corrupted surroundings of that place. We'd merely be tadpoles in a fish pond.

Mick and Mike were still in stitches over the little episode back at the taxi line. It was fine for them, they didn't have to act out an epilectic fit in the middle of the steet in front of complete strangers. I imagined it would be something I'd laugh about too in a few days time but at that point I was too concerned about going to prison.

Patrick was busy trying to get rid of a stain on his navy blue woolen pullover. It was hard to tell whether it was tomato sauce from the meat pies and sausage rolls or blood. Either way it was evidence and he needed to get rid of it.

We soon realised that the driver had taken a rather large detour. We were somewhere in Circular Quay, miles from where we wanted to be. It should have only taken about five or so minutes to get to our destination, but we had been in the cab for about twenty. Something was wrong. Before I could say anything, Patrick had also noticed. "Where the fuck are we going?".

"Kings Cross.", came the reply from the driver. "Bullshit, we're nowhere near The Cross you fucking idiot. Are you trying to rip me off man?". The cab came to a screeching halt. The driver had had enough of our bullshit. He turned around and let loose. "Get the fuck out! Get the fuck out! I don't have to take your bullshit! You should treat me with some respect! Now get out!". His head was moving around so much that the turban he was wearing was falling off. "Get the fuck out!!".

"You wanna take this outside?" asked Patrick softly. The driver hopped out and hurried around to the passengers side where Patrick was sitting. He had his fists up and was ready to go. We waited for Patrick to get out but Patrick just sat there. Surely he wasn't scared. He wasn't. Rather he knew something that we didn't. The driver, in his fit of rage had left the keys in the ignition. Calmly, Patrick hopped over to the driver's side, slammed the door and sped off leaving the Seek in the middle of the road with his fists still up. "Where to boys?" he said without flinching.

We arrived at the Cross within a couple of minutes thanks to some high speed driving which nearly resulted in a couple of what would have been fatal accidents. We dumped the cab a couple of blocks away and walked the rest.

To be continued...