I walk through the frigid streets with my hand firmly clutched against my shoulder to stem the bleeding. Part of me hopes the cold is at least slowing the blood down, while the other part of me just wants to get the f**k back to my hotel. By some miracle of the Gods, I see an approaching cab and hail it down. I don’t even wait for the car to come to a complete stop before I dive into the backseat.
“Hotel National,” I instruct.
The driver glances at me briefly in the rearview mirror and decides to avert his eyes before he turns the car around and begins heading in the direction of the hotel. I lean forward and do my best not to get blood on the backseat of his car – more for the sake of avoiding leaving evidence as opposed to courtesy. The driver never makes small talk and continues to av
