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By Mihar Dias (C) Copyright July 2024
Fiona Mariah, the celebrated opera singer of West End fame, and I recently caught up at a friend's secluded villa in Bali. What she revealed to me sent shivers down my spine.
“I flew in from London and checked into a hotel in Portland, Oregon. I was reluctant to join the rest of the crew and decided to take a taxi to the theatre where I was supposed to perform that evening. I got dressed up with heavy stage makeup, thinking even a close friend would struggle to recognize me. Or so I thought.”
The bellman hailed a taxi. “No sooner had I sat down than the driver adjusted his rearview mirror and kept peering at me, squinting his eyes before he finally decided to move. As we drove away from the hotel, he gave me a few more intense glances and asked, 'Are you a singer?'”
Fiona nodded affirmatively. She certainly looked the part with her glittering dress and heavy makeup. Maybe he was just guessing, happy to be ferrying a singer new to town.
A short while later, he asked another question, "Are you from London?" Fiona said yes again, wondering where this conversation was headed.
The next question came after the taxi driver took a long, hard look in the mirror. She almost jumped with fright. “Are you Fiona?”
This time she hesitated. All sorts of crazy thoughts raced through her mind. Was this guy trolling her? But she was in Portland, Oregon, not busy London where trollers are everywhere. Or perhaps he had seen her face on posters around town announcing the arrival of a group of touring English opera singers.
“Well, lady, are you Fiona?”
“Ah, yes. I am she.”
The taxi driver grinned. “You don't remember me, do you?”
She struggled to recall any associates who were taxi drivers. Her mind went blank.
The next statement from him made her blood run cold. "We met two years ago!" he said in his Portland twang.
All she could manage was, “Oh, really?”
"We had drinks together on a boat!" he said with great conviction.
A boat? She had never been on a boat in Portland. This was her first time here.
After a while, he added, "I met you on a cruise ship on the Atlantic, somewhere between the Bahamas and Southampton. Does that ring a bell?" he tried to jog her memory.
Then she remembered. One summer, two years earlier, she had taken a part-time job singing on a small cruise liner with about 300 people on board. She had shared a drink with a gentleman who looked eerily like this taxi driver and his friend. But what were the odds of meeting this man again in Portland, Oregon, of all places?
By this time, they had reached her destination. Fiona rushed out of the cab, thrusting the fare into his hand and telling him to keep the change.
What an encounter, she thought, her heart still pounding.
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