King Solomon at the Wheel

Why do people ask the limo driver to make the tough calls?

Say you hire me. OK, now say I pick you up and we get under way and you tell me, "We need to make a stop on the way to pick up a friend." Am I supposed to know how good a friend this guy is to you? Is he your best friend? Maybe you don’t even really like the guy. Maybe you’re kidnapping him. How am I supposed to know?

That’s my point: I can’t.

Don’t ask me to be King Solomon. I’m definitely not getting paid like King Solomon. I mean, he had mines, full of gold. As a limo driver, I’m clearing a few hundred a night, maybe, just to get your ass close to a doorway and pay for all the gas.

Yet somehow people put all their decisions on me. I had an actor client once. Drove him around all night, while he talked to his wife. At one point he put her on speaker so I could hear what she was saying for 10 minutes. Then he hung up and said to me, I swear:

“’You hear her?! Would you stay married to a woman like that? That’s not a human being. That’s the only thing I’m sure of. Everything else … I don’t know anymore. You tell me, I’m serious – should I get a divorce? What do you think?”

Usually, I fend stuff like that off and say, “I just stick to the driving.”

Usually, it stops there. I do not see myself as Mr. Argument Settler.

So, back to the story, right? I’m driving this guy named Elliot Stern and he tells me we have to stop somewhere. It’s in the Encino hills. The house is above the street. The driveway is a steep curve with stone gates. There are two vans parked by the front door at the crown of the drive. I don’t know whose they are, but the driveway is blocked.

So Elliot says, ‘Wait here, I’ll get my pal,’ and I say fine, and he gets out of the car and walks up the drive and I sit there waiting for him to come back down with his homey.

I’m checking my messages when he comes down. I get out and open the door, and Elliot says, ‘This is my buddy Steve.’

Steve gets in. Then Elliot. I close the door. I get in the car. Nothing unusual so far. Maybe Steve is dressed a little nicer than Elliot. But they’re obviously friends. Believe me, not even King Solomon would know we’re in the process of kidnapping him.

The Secret in Their Eyes“Now what is it that you so desperately need to say to me, Elliot, that I have to allow myself to be dragged out of my house like this?” I can hear Steve ask when we’re all inside.

“Go,” Elliot says to me.

“Don’t be silly. I can’t go anywhere now,” Steve says.

“You’re not really going anywhere, Steve. You’ll be staying right here, in this limo. Have you seen the movie yet?”

“Did you see those catering trucks in front of my house, jackass? I am having an engagement party for my daughter in one hour. A hundred people.”

By now, I’m rolling. We’re a few blocks down the hill.

“It’s a great movie, Steve. I have it right here. On disc. I can’t get it out of my mind,” Elliot says. “We’ll watch it on the flatscreen in back while we drive around. You won’t miss the whole party. Keep going, Stretch.”

Steve starts banging on the partition and hollering, “Let me out — if I miss my daughter’s party I will file a lawsuit. And I will file a criminal complaint. Against both of you. I’m being held against my will. This is kidnapping.”

Elliot is my client and he is paying, but Steve makes sense. I pull over to the shoulder and explain to Elliot that I will do nearly anything a client wants, but I’m sorry to say I can’t go along with making a dad miss his kid’s engagement party.

“I want him to see ‘The Secret in Their Eyes,’" Elliot says, taking the disc out of his jacket. “Have you heard about this movie, Stretch?”

I tell him I have.

“The movie from Argentina. Best foreign film Oscar.”

“I know which movie you’re talking about,” I say.

“Have you … by any chance … seen it?” Elliot asks.

I say that I have.

“Well, then, Stretch, I’ll leave the choice to you,” Elliot says. “Take Steve home to his daughter’s engagement party if you think it’s right.”

So there it is – King Solomon time all over again. Stretch, you decide.

Maybe it comes with being behind the wheel, but a man can’t always escape responsibility when it is thrust on him.

“You’ll thank me after you watch it,” I tell Steve, and I put the limo in gear and slam back out on the road.

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