Chicago cab-driver Raja Lahrasib Khan was charged friday with attempting to supply funds for explosives to al-qaeda, and discussing a possible bomb attack on a U.S. stadium this summer. The 56 year old Pakistani allegedly sent $950 from a currency exchange to Ilyas Kashmiri, a known terrorist leader wanted in a federal indictment for planning a terrorist attack in Denmark. Khan claimed to have known Kashmiri for 15 years and believed that Kashmiri was receiving orders from Osama bin Laden.
Living in chicago i venture to say i have been in 1500 cabs over the last 4 years. i am a good fare. normally all i need to say is the intersection i need to go. ”north and western.” ”sheffield and armitage”. ”halsted and wellington, please.” thats about it. no small talk. i am either too drunk or too tired to want to have a conversation. i don’t ask if i can smoke even though i want to. ill open the window though. time can get lost in the breeze of a 5am cab ride if you have your eyes closed.
i actually enjoy foreign cab drivers more than americans. american cabbies are normally old hippies that won’t shut the fuck up about whatever baby-boomer topic they are pissed about this week (or worse, are driving the “party-cab”). at the end of the night or beginning of my day i don’t mind if the cabbie is listening to NPR instead of Jay Giles. upon arriving at my destination i normally have exact fare to pay with. cash is king. i have probably been picking through my wallet, crumpling up old, useless receipts and looking at how my jewel-osco preferred card is worn out on the side from prying into my bedroom door when i locked myself out, and reminiscing about an old girlfriend, all after ive faced my money and set it to the side for payment. unless it is an extremely large fare, im good for rounding up to the next dollar and adding two on top for a tip. you have gotten me safely to my destination, sir. thank you. good day.
i doubt mathematically i have hailed Raja Lahrasib Shah’s cab, but it is interesting to think about where your money goes after it leaves you. a faceless, soft-spoken man from pakistan, perhaps. starting his long workday driving chicagoans around the city with a steaming hot cup of dunkin’ donuts coffee and a newspaper. i only hope that if my money is ever in the hands of Osama bin Laden, he will see the imgross.org stamped on it in red, and at least visit us here to say thank you.
the best stories do come from hippie cabbies. i was one, once upon a time. they are a material resource.