The final indignity

After my very delayed flight left me at Logan at 01:00, I had to get a taxi home. The cab smelt of gasoline, and the driver was a crotchety old guy with silver hair and a hearing aid. I shouted instructions into the front with gradually increasing volume until he managed to make out the word ‘Davis’. As we approached the square, I tried to use a few clearly enunciated loud words to guide him further.