Thanks. Give. Ing.

With Thanksgiving, and the beginning of the 2009 Holiday Season just around the corner, I think its appropriate to talk about the magnitude to which we all give thanks for the life we have been blessed with this year.

As the beautiful season of Autumn is among us on the East Coast and the leaves begin to change, and the temperature drops - it's so easy to put our winter coats on, get in the car, show up somewhere on Thanksgiving day, sit down at a dining room table, throw the football game on and say "Pass the stuffing, Pops" without fully understanding the good fortune that lies in that pile of mashed potatoes you are about to drink.

The term "Thank You", in my opinion, is used ENTIRELY too loosely in today's day and age. And for those that know me, I am as much at fault as the next guy. Sure.......... you go to Dun'kin Donuts and get your Turbo Hot with extra cream, and extra sugar, and you politely say "Thanks" to the Indian that is handing it to you through the window. Yes, certain things deserve some degree of politeness; However, I believe that there is a conceptually inept disguise in the universally accepted phrase that displays a courteous and somewhat informal expression of gratitude.

Case and point:

About a month ago I was in a CAB coming home from grad school. I am not driving these days (thanks to the PA point system) and needless to say, I have learned to make friends with most of the the local drivers on the Reading CIRCUIT. My first week humping rides, I made friends with a cabbie named George who, if I had to guess is 55 years old, he VERY closely resembles Jerry Garcia and obviously had some trouble making, and keeping dentist appointments during his youth. However; a nicer guy you COULDN'T find. He was happy to give me his cell number for prompt door-to-door service, and I looked forward to seeing him each week and giving him a nice tip at the end of each ride, which gave George the incentive to pick me up at the drop of a hat, if needed.

This particular Monday, though, George was not working, so I had to deal with the SWITCHBOARD. Christ. Let me tell you guys something for those of you who don't live in Reading.

OK, in Reading, PENNSYLVANIA. ENGLISH is no longer the primary language. Spanish has become the verbal CURRENCY here, so in order for me to place an order for a ride, I had to first ask for an English speaking operator in such a way that I wouldn't be considered rude or arrogant, and for those of you who know me; know, that being pleasant in a situation like this can be a real challenge. In other words - If I was calling in a "meat lovers thin crust", and a 2 Liter of Dr. Pepper, Id be FUCKED.

Going through the switchboard also means that after the 14 minute "crash test Spanish course" I could possibly be waiting outside for ANOTHER 20 minutes for a ride in a car that hadn't passed a 55 point STATE inspection exam in DECADES.

Its a local fare, about 3 miles, which usually costs me about 6 bucks. With the tip? I'm looking at about 8 bucks - GIVEN there is healthy conversation and/or a healthy environment (Cigarette smoking doesn't count). For example, I usually try and get it the front seat and ride GUN. If this happens...........extra $2 tip. but if there is a weeks worth of Wendy's bags on the front seat or the drivers BRIEFCASE, with his law school homework in it, I happily ask if I can sit in the back. I don't know what it is about cab drivers and briefcases, but its a VERY popular accessory. The last time I checked, when the meter isn't running - they aren't studying for the LSAT's. I don't know what else could be in there.

So anyways, I finally land a ride which only took about 18 minutes. I HEAR the guy approaching me from about 200 yds out and it sounds like the master cylinder and Transmission casing are in the UFC octagon with RAMPAGE Jackson wearing brass KNUCKLES. or better yet, It almost like I was on #2 at Galen Hall golf course and I hear someone scream FORE at me as loud as they can. I ducked, and immediately look back toward this CLAMMERING noise and I see this guy casually failing to stop at a stop sign, and BLATANTLY ignoring the speed limit, all the while looking around for his customer. I say to myself "Here we go", I pick up my bag off the ground and proceed to wave him down.

He pulls up, and I try to pull my patented "shotgun" move; however, the front seat looked like the Phillies DUGOUT after a 13 inning game against the Dodgers in the NLCS. So, I obliged to sit in the back, put my examination gloves on and buckle up.

I'm finally on my way. After about 2 minutes of checking text messages en route - like a school girl, I start small talk and ask the driver "Hey, what do you think about the Eagles this year."

Now, I live in the middle of Eagles country where everyone "dry shoots" over the Eagles, but little does he know - I HATE the Eagles, so its a loaded question. I'm just curious as to what kind of guy I'm dealing with.

Without missing a beat, he looks at me through the rear view and says "I don't watch sports, I don't have the time." Wow. "OK bud. That's great.......Go fuck yourself" - I felt like saying, but instead I kept quiet and thought to myself ........"Fair enough, he's a hard worker."

About another 1/4 mile down the road, we pass a local Fire Company. It's now about 10:45 pm, and there is 15 guys standing outside talking and shooting the breeze. I looked over at them, really never having seen that much traffic at a small fire company at 11 pm on a weeknight before; curiously, I asked the driver "Hey. What goes on in there at night? Do they have a bar set up in there where people go and hang out?"

This goddamn disgruntled GUY perks up in his seat, clears his throat - which sounded so gross and very well could have been used as a commercial for Lung Cancer Awareness- looks in the rear view mirror at me and says " I don't know what they do in there. ugh. ugh. You would have to ask them........ugh. ugh.........Why didn't you roll the window down and ask them yourself? ugh. ugh. How would I know what goes on in there? ugh"

Wow!!!! OK asshole, I didn't ask you why your parents got divorced. And I didn't know the criteria for being a cab driver in Reading, PA was that you had to be a complete shit-dick. Hey Jerk-off, doesn't it fucking occur to you that I am in my late 20's, I'm wearing a white POLO jacket and matching U.S. Open Ralph Lauren tennis shoes, coming from a UNIVERSITY, late at night ........and that the possibility of me giving you a GOOD tip would be pretty good?

Apparently not.

I told the guy where I lived, which was about 250 yds ahead, and for the rest of the ride I was COMPLETELY silent. I was silent with PAIN. I was soo mad at the idea that this CAB DRIVER just beat me at my own game of "one-ups-man-ship" and my inability to continue a pleasant conversation based on the possibility of me PAYING him made me sick. He had the last word, and I was silent.

So here's the kicker............

The cab came to a halt outside my apartment and I couldn't wait to get the F out of that car, call George - my "go-to-guy" and tell him what a shit head this guy was.

I pulled out my wallet. Paid my fare, and tipped the guy a buck. And then........get this

I said................"THANK YOU" to this specimen. I couldn't believe what just happened. I was so incredibly disappointed with myself.

The point being.............alot of times I half-heartedly say Thank You to people and I don't mean it. In this case, I CERTAINLY didn't mean it. What I did mean to do was.......... dump my full Snapple bottle of CHEWING tobacco spit onto his back seat, get out of the car and slam the door shut so hard that all four tires go flat.

Instead I said "Thank You"

So, this Thanksgiving when you are spending time with the Family members you love, don't simply say "Hey Thanks"..............that is what you tell the waitress at Chili's for bringing you ketchup. Look them in the eye, and SINCERELY tell them "Thank You." Thank them for more than just bringing you into this world.................Thank them for putting up with you for your whole life. And most importantly, thank them for providing a holiday setting that will not only be remembered for ages, but CHERISHED for generations.