THE SENATOR AND LILLY
 
           The Senator bolted from the Dirksen building. Leaving his
entourage of young and bright legislative assistants, he was alone for the
first time in days.  Still in his uniform of dark blue suit, white shirt and
red silk tie, he almost sprinted to the corner. The brisk winter air felt
good on his face.  He was going home.
           Lilly sat in her cab a few feet away. She fixed the Senator with her
big brown eyes, and looked him into her cab. She had seen the Senator
on this corner before.  This was her territory, too.  She had been driving
her cab in The District since her youngest daughter had gone off to
Meharry.
           Her cab was immaculate.  The Caprice had over 200,000 miles, but
she kept it looking new.  The freshly re-upholstered rear seat provided
comfortable seating for three adults.  Pictures of her twelve grandchil-
dren were affixed to the dash board.  A net of colorful scented herbs
hung from the rear view mirror.  Under that was a prominent, framed
sign that said, “NO SMOKING, PLEASE!”
           The Senator hoisted his large frame into the back seat and blurted,
“Reagan National.”  Alone and free of responsibility for the first time in
days, he could feel himself relaxing.  He loosened his tie and the strings
to his patent leather shoes and stretched his legs. He began to fantasize
about the beautiful blonde who had just lobbied him for tobacco subsi-
dies (Philip Morris could sure pick their staff!). He pulled out the cigar
she had left him and rolled it in his fingers. The aroma washed over him
and he began to crave some whiskey to go with this little brown trea-
sure.  He removed the cellophane and dropped it on the floor.  He
found his book of matches and lit up.  Now, he was really beginning to
relax.
           Lilly glared at him through the rear view mirror but the Senator took
no notice.  Neither she nor the Senator said a word.  Deep in his reverie,
the Senator took a drag and held the moist, aromatic smoke in his
cheeks for several seconds.  In his personal heaven of buxom blondes,
there was also room for single malt scotch and good cigars.
           Lilly opened all the windows, and switched on the window lock.
she was now cruising by the Washington Monument and would be at
the airport in less than five minutes.  The Senator was awakened from
his dream to feel the cold air rushing around his face.
           “Close the windows!” he snapped.
           Lilly drove on silently.
           “Damn it, I’m cold!” the Senator pleaded.
           Lilly said nothing.  This was her cab.  She was wearing her
Redskins parka and the Senator had no overcoat.
           He defiantly took another drag on the cigar. “You’re as bad as my
wife and mother-in-law!” he complained. “They make me go outside
to smoke, too.”
           He was now getting cold and had to make a decision. “Okay, I’ll
put it out,” he acquiesced.
           Lilly, breaking her silence, said, “Senator, you would be a lot
healthier if you didn’t smoke!”
           “My wife tells me the same thing all the time.”
           “Well, she’s right.”
           The Senator flipped the cigar out the window and pleaded to
close the windows.
           Lilly said, “No sir, I got to air out my cab!”
           The two rode silently to the airport. Lilly knew she had lost a big
tip.  The Senator hugged himself and shivered.  He noticed the no
smoking sign and the grandkids’ pictures for the first time.
           When they got to the airport, Lilly said, “That’ll be five dollars, sir.”
           The Senator reached in his pocket and gave her a twenty. He had
met his match for the first time in weeks. He recognized and respected
true power.
           “Keep the change, Grandma.”
 
Paul Rockey, M.D.
Associate Dean for Clinical Affairs
Third Place, Prose