Ura je dve zjutraj in za mano je eden tistih večerov, ki jih nisem potrebovala, a sem si ga želela privoščiti, ker si ga drugače ne nikoli. Brez kakršnekoli želje po spancu zleknjena na bok berem Smrt slovenske primadone. Ob ugibanju, kako se je končala njena zgodba, me bolečina v želodcu začne opozarjati, da je od mojega zadnjega obroka minilo več kot pol dneva.
Z mize vzamem mobitel. "Dober večer*, en taksi na ________, prosim." Ni mi treba veliko razmišljati; ob takšnih nočeh se mi na celem svetu jé samo eno. Obujem visoke pete, vzamem torbico in ključe in stopim ven. Miren, jasen nočni zrak in gosto poletno tišino čez nekaj minut preseka snop luči.
"Na Miklošičevo." Pisk taksimetra. Poslušam centralo. Taksist ne govori, radio je ugasnjen. Voziva se po osvetljeni, prazni Celovški. Sploh obstaja mesto, ki ponoči ni čarobno? Sprehodi takrat trajajo dlje kot podnevi, vožnje pa so bliskovite, da se naslednji dan sprašuješ, ali si jih sanjal.
Zavijeva na mojo najljubšo ulico. "Samo sekundo," rečem par metrov pred velikim zeleno-rumenim znakom, ki se sveti v temi. Ne preseneti me, da taksist ve; ustavi prav tam, kjer ponavadi parkirajo avti s spuščenimi šipami, iz katerih se v nezanemarljivem radiju razlega glasna glasba.
Ni vrste. Po dveh stavkih, enem kovancu in petih korakih mehko zaprem avtomobilska vrata. Ker ve, da nimam drugih opravkov, taksist brez besed zavije nazaj na Celovško.
* Kako pravzaprav pozdraviš centralo in taksista sredi noči?
It's 2 AM. I've had one of those evenings that are hardly good for me, but from time to time I choose to indulge anyway. Without any intention to go to bed I stretch myself on the sofa, reading Smrt slovenske primadone (Death of Slovenian Primadonna) and wondering about the ending of her story. The pain in my stomach reminds me it's been more than half a day since I last had a meal.
I take my cell phone from the table. "Good evening*, one taxi to ________, please." I don't have to think much; there is only one thing in the world that satisfies the hunger on such nights. I put on high heels, take my bag and keys and leave the house. After a few minutes the tranquil and clear night air is interrupted by strong beam of lights.
"To Miklošičeva." Beep of taximeter. I listen to the taxi central. The driver doesn't talk, the radio is turned off. We're driving through empty Celovška, bright from the streetlights. Is there a city that doesn't seem absolutely, heartachingly magic at night? Night walks are longer than day walks, but car rides pass by so quickly that the next day you find yourself thinking it was only a dream.
We turn to my favorite street. "Just a second," I say a couple of meters before the huge green-yellow sign glowing in the dark. I'm not surprised to realize the driver knows. He stops at the exact place that is usually occupied by cars with rolled down windows blasting loud music.
There is no queue. Two sentences, one coin and five steps later I close the car door softly. As he knows I have no more errands to run, the driver wordlessly turns back to Celovška.
* How are you supposed to greet the taxi central and the driver in the middle of the night anyway?
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7 comments:
Zanimiva ta tvoja nočna avantura, tudi mene včasih prime, da bi sredi noči odšel na sprehod. :)
"Dober večer"? pozdraviš ;)
Zelo mi je všeč, kako opisuješ noč. Jaz bi še podrobnosti ;P
Haah, kaj na kebap si šla? :D
Smrt slovenske primadone se spomnim da mi je bila zelo všeč. Tanka pa dobra knjiga (:
Mir in ljubezen!
@ruth, kaj te še zanima? :D
@beba, na burek. K Noblu. Kot je treba. ^_^
Sirov ali mesni?
Sirov. Čeprav to sploh ni burek, ampak pita. Mesni izjemoma. Pizzaburek nikoli, rajši umrem. :)
Dobra izbira. :)
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