BIG BUFFALOS

'Do you know any big shots?'

That was the question I used to ask almost every passenger that looked like a businessman or a politician. I just liked big shots.

I have never really met any real celebrities, even in my much smaller Sarajevo. I often thought that being a cabbie in the American capital would be different, but quite contrary to expectation, not many passengers knew anyone famous, although they thought they did. Most of them knew some CEO of a listed company which I had never heard of, or some journalists, analysts and other people that considered themselves famous, but are really known only by their small circle of 'fans'. They were mainly Whitehouse and Capitol Hill staffers and their assistants, or better known as 'Staff Ass'. Most of them were very good-looking, but they didn't really know any important people, or at least weren't willing to share any stories about them. There were some exceptions, like when I drove President Clinton's ex-Chief of Staff, Erskine Bowles. And that was it - after almost six years as a cabby in the capital of the United States. But at the end of the day, what is the measure for being a celebrity? What is required in order to declare someone a big shot?

In nature there are clear rules. I remembered a TV special about buffalos in Theodore Roosevelt National Park where the biggest and strongest buffalo bull became chief of a herd of female buffalos. But in the kingdom of man, this rule had changed a long time ago. You don't have to be strong, brave or good-looking to be famous. You can look like Woody Allen and still be desirable. It seems all you need to be important is to be seen on TV, in magazines or in movies! More airtime equals a better person - the better and stronger buffalo. And for some unknown reason, something has always attracted me to those human buffalos.

I was well aware that civilization stuffed up the evolution with monogamy. When everybody had their own family, the passing of the best genes to the next generation was restricted to only the fortunate few. I tried my best to breach this rule by sleeping with, and possibly impregnating, as many women as I could. It got to the extent where I had to forbid my legitimate children from dating anybody from the former Yugoslavia as it became too hard to tell whether those boys and girls were their half-siblings or not.

On the other hand, I was also aware that monogamy provided us all with a sense of eternity, where the passing of genes was possible for anyone, which was a nice thought for a change. No matter how weak, stupid or ugly somebody might be, they could still have a chance - a chance to have their own family, but not without the expense to the future of mankind.

The current standards for what we consider to be 'good' genes is working more and more against my favor as we as a society are becoming more and more appreciative of people with brains over physical strength, but I still felt that sometimes muscles were still worth more than brains. At least in the short term and I am always concerned about the short term. Over the long term, however, I knew all too well that my slightly overweight but strong body would have a better chance in the buffalo world.

Somehow, I have always felt that I have the potential, but have never managed to make it happen. America was my big hope, but as more time passes I feel I was being pushed further from this goal. I will never achieve anything big. I won't become a big buffalo. Linda at the time appeared to be my first and only real chance to reach that 'big-buffalo' status. But now, I have lost everything. Even more, though, I have lost hope.

***

We were on our way to New York City, this time, with the Frenchman.

"This will be one long drive," I initiated just so I could have something to break the silence between us.

"And a nice one, I hope," Daniel added.

"What kind of meeting do you have tomorrow?"

"Just an informal one with my business partners. To seal a job that will hopefully be finished tomorrow ... my last job ever," Daniel said, sounding slightly relieved.

"Are you retiring?"

"I hope so. Maybe I might continue working as a consultant from time to time when they need me, but that would be it."

"What kind of industry are you in?"

"Well, it's hard to say. I like to think that I'm in marketing, but you could say I help lobbyists achieve their goals."

"Do you work for PR agency?" I finally started becoming interested in the conversation.

"No, not an agency," Daniel said, almost as if he was offended by the thought.

"Freelancer?"

"That's probably more accurate."

I nodded and decided to take a short break because I didn't want this conversation to sound like an interrogation.

I went back to my previous thoughts. Firstly I gave up on the idea that I would ever become famous. Then, it occurred to me… I would probably never even meet anyone really famous, or meet anybody who knew any real big shots. No, never again. It was hard for me to understand what really happened with the entire ordeal with Linda. I wasn't sure, yet I couldn't help but look for celebrities or at least somebody who knew them. It was obvious though, big shots, or their friends, simply did not use taxis, at least not in Washington. They have their Lincolns and Cadillacs, and chauffeurs. Maybe I should try my luck in New York. There, everybody uses taxis.

For a moment there I wanted to ask Daniel about celebrities, but then decided not to.

I looked in the mirror, again, and saw a big Mack truck behind me. Although I wasn't usually comfortable with truckies, this time I actually loved it. As long as I had that truck behind me, then it was unlikely that I was being followed. They don't use trucks to follow people. And then I remembered; they use trucks for executions!

***

"Do I know any celebrities?" Linda reworded my question, smiling.

"Yes, celebrities, but more like big shots. Famous politicians, lawyers, businessmen."

"I can't believe that anybody likes lawyers," she laughed.

"Not really. I'm just curious."

"You've probably heard about the guy who I'm running from, but I don't want to talk about him now."

"I guess he has name."

"Forget about him for now. You know, I'm in PR, so I really meet a lot of big shots. I've been doing a lot of work for the IT industry lately."

"Well, that is something. Do you know anybody famous?"

"Um… Bill Gates," she said leisurely, as though he meant nothing.

"Bill Gates? You must be kidding me!"

"I'm serious. Although I've only met him a couple of times. Most things are handled by Steve…" Then she realized that she had better use full names. "Steve Ballmer. I am also very close to Paul Allen. I wish I could tell you more, but I'm afraid I don't have time for this right now. I can tell you all the details later, including all the stuff about the guy who's after me."

Linda probably saw in my eyes the desire to find out more. She was cooking me slowly, mentioning her ex every five minutes to stir me up. There was really no need for that. I was all ears, anyway - flabbergasted and listening intently.

"OK, where do you want me to drive you now?"

"Actually, I don't really have anywhere to go?"

"Some hotel?"

"No, I can't go there. They would find me. Listen carefully. I'm in really big trouble. Unfortunately, they're after me and it will be almost impossible to hide from them..."

"Who?" I was frustrated that she was seeking my help, yet still keeping critical information from me. She was hiding something big. "Who else is with him?"

"It doesn't matter now. He, they... don't make much difference apart from the fact that they are very powerful and they are keeping a close eye on all my friends, my work, my electronic transactions... I need to disappear for a while, but I really don't know how. Only a stranger like you can help me."

"How?"

"Can you please take me to your place?"

"What?"

"I'll pay you back."

My eyes sparked as juicy ideas flowed through my corrupted mind. Linda seemed to sense this and didn't hesitate to take advantage of the situation.

"You won't believe how much I can change your life, for good, if we get through this."

"We? Wait a second, lady. Are you a pro?"

Bam! I didn't even see it coming. The force of Linda's hand shook my entire left jaw. Linda was already walking out angrily through the main entry while I sat there, still stunned. I couldn't think or do anything. Then, as I got up and made my way towards the car, with my left hand embarrassingly covering my burning red cheek, I passed by a strangely overdressed guy in black suit who was talking on his cell phone by the entrance.