Going to Aspen, California

As you get into the cab, you notice a stranger in a gray coat sitting in the back seat. But before you can climb out of the car, the cabbie pulls away from the curve.
“Taxi passengers have got to know that their driver is not Richard Nixon,” the driver says. “And I am not Richard Nixon. What’s the destination?”
“Take me to airport,” you reply, hoping you can straighten out your ticket problem at airline counter.
“Have you ever thought about the meaning of life?” asks your fellow passenger in a lilting accent.
“No,” you say.
“Surely you must have thought about it,” he says.
“Really, no,” you say, starting to lose patience.
“I’ll tell you what the meaning of life is. Life is a fountain, endlessly throwing up water. You sparkle for a while and then you are turned off, except in Minnesota, where you freeze,” he says.
Once again, visions of Baja dance before you, even as your intended destination appears to be moving further out of reach.
“But in Baja, the foundation sparkles endlessly in rapturous celebration,” you say.
“You know why I had the cab driver stop?” he asked. “I have been running from the mob for two years. They blame me for a drug deal that went bad.”
“You’re a drug kingpin?” you ask with more than a little accusation in your voice.
“Not really. My brother ran for president of my home country and was shot,” he replies. “But that’s a long story. The people who are after me, they are close to me now. I am no longer safe in this beautiful country, and so I have been looking for a way to escape with some, how do you say, discretion. You and your tickets are my passport out of danger.”
“Stop the car! Right here! I want out!” you shout at the cab driver.
Surprisingly, the cabbie slams on the brakes. That must have triggered the mobsters’ bomb, because the next thing you know an explosion is hurling you from the taxi.
You hit the ground and skid to a stop, flames licking at the ground around the shattered taxi and biting at your face from your own clothes.
If you choose to extinguish yourself by jumping in the nearby lake…See OOH-OOH THAT SMELL page12
If you decide to just stop, drop and roll…See DO THE MASHED-POTATO; DO THE MOLE page 23