THE BATTLE OF SLUSSEN
By K. Dana Maxey
It creates the foundation, for futuristic reminiscing.
Well, why…what’s your name? Victor. Because, he isn’t driving this taxi in the middle of a very bad storm. Detours might be required in Stockholm. Where is it you want to go?
Skeppsholmen? Yah, Skeppsholmen, Victor.
The traveler’s tone sounds so strongly familiar. Are you from America?
What? The United States? Of course I am.
What is the address of the hotel?
The driver turns on the light inside the taxi, casting shadows throughout its interior.
Victor speaks with a tone of diplomatic discretion, The address? I don’t know the address. It’s The Hotel Skeppsholmen on the island of Skeppsholmen. The museum island. Why don’t you look it up on your GPS?
The traveler bundles himself as well as he can, and stares out the side window. The headlights of the vehicles on the highway light the surrounding area as if one is seated in the center of a cyclorama.
The man from Dallas, has gently fallen asleep. And Victor thinks about his wife and kids, and how they had died in Iraqi.
The traveler sits bolt-upright. Why have we stopped? We’re lost. I can’t believe what you just said! Is the meter running? Of course not. I bet. What about the GPS? The GPS doesn’t work, and neither does the radio?
Just like in the movies?
Yah, Tex, too bad John Wayne’s not here.
Do you mind? Victor stands next to him.
Where are we right now? Slussen. How do you know that it’s Slussen? I see the Katarinahissen. Exactly. And the Kararinahissen is? Near Slussen. And Slussen is on the island of? Sodermalm. That’s why I stopped the taxi. I’m sure it is. Now, watch where I’m pointing. Are you watching? Yes. See that white ship? I see it. That ship is named the af Chapman. Behind the ship are trees and buildings. Correct? Correct. Those trees and buildings are on the museum island, the island of Skeppsholmen.
Victor takes out the luggage, and places it at the Texan’s feet.
He slowly tears up the currency, and sprinkles it on the man’s shoes. I’m calling up your company in the morning. You’re going to regret this, Victor. Victor Amad Marrish.
You know nothing. What? Except the arrogance, self-delusional conceit, and xenophobia of your peers. Now, just hold on here. . .. I was a translator for your army of conquest. Seeking in vain for weapons of mass destruction, in my home land of Iraq.
Don’t you think that you better take me to the hotel? No! God natt.
Just where the hell are you going?
jb…signing off 10.13.2015/10:57 a.m.