Grosse Pointe Blank Page #4

INT. HIRED CAR, NEW YORK - DAY

The livery weaves out of the arrival lanes at Kennedy airport.

Martin reclines in the back seat, a conversation having

already begun.

DRIVER:

How was your day, today, sir?

MARTIN:

Effective. But to tell you the truth,

I've lost my passion for work.

DRIVER:

Do you like the people you work with?

MARTIN:

I work alone.

DRIVER:

That's it then. That's it. I've always

been alone. That's why I'm a good

driver. I can handle it. See, I can

think on my feet. I survive, I'm a

thinker. And I can sit there in front

of your house for two hours and it

don't bother me. Some people can't

do it! Some people are ranting and

raving, "Tell them f***in' people to

get out here and get in this car, I

can't-- I want a go!" Where you gonna

go? You're gonna wind up back in

your garage at seven o'clock at night.

You ain't going nowhere. You leave

your house in the morning you get

back to your house in the evening.

What's the big deal, right?

MARTIN:

You understand the psychology of the

job.

DRIVER:

I do. Some guys can't adjust to it;

they can't handle it.

INT. CAR - MANHATTAN STREETS - LATER

The car cuts through the upper east side. Martin and the

Driver exchange looks through the rear-view mirror.

DRIVER:

You look like you're far away. Far

away and thinking about other things.

I'm right about that, aren't I?

MARTIN:

No.

DRIVER:

Well, let's just say that sometimes

I'm right. Sometimes you are.

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