Bood for Joe

While driving a taxi in Ann Arbor, I happened along a once in a lifetime convergence of circumstance that made for one of the best Halloween pranks ever.

First a little background.  Ann Arbor Yellow Cab, at the time, had several things going on: cab service, limo service, courier service, and special low-fare rides for seniors and handicapped people through a deal with the state.  Standard cabbies got the low-fare deals for free, but had to qualify for the courier missions.

One of the most desired regular missions was a courier run from a small medical clinic on the west side to St Joseph’s hospital on the east side.  Which was usually followed up by a low-cost fare from WCC on the east side to her home on the west side.  Cherry set of runs.

One Halloween, I decided to dress up as a vampire: black cape, bite marks, etc.  And luckily for me, things lined up so that I got this cherry set of runs.  But that’s only where the prank begins.

I walk into the clinic, and there’s a few people waiting to get in.  I get “looks”.  I stride confidently up to the counter and use the cloak to hide my hand slipping the courier receipt across the desk for the receptionist to sign.  The receptionist obligingly palms the receipt book, and signs with no fanfare, then palms it back to me very discreetly.

Meanwhile I inquire: “You have the blood?  For Joe….” and the receptionist proudly pulls up a brown paper bag (inside is a tiny styrofoam cooler with the blood samples). Written across the bag, in large marker, is simply “Joe”.   Perfect.

With signed receipt pocketed, and brown sack of blood in hand, I sweep the cloak out elegantly and make for the door.  In my periphery I make note of a couple children burying themselves in nearby adults who also look a little unsure of what’s going on.

Next day, I stopped back in and had a great laugh with the receptionist.  Apparently one of the adults actually inquired about our little play, and the receptionist innocently replied, “Oh, we send blood to Joe all the time.” Which, of course they do. But the pale faces and fretted looks were still priceless.