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aro0w: thank you, glad you like it!
Patricius Maximus: thank you, I wanted to do it in a original way and I came across with this idea.
Steamrobin: thank you for your comment too!
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Carretera de Ca'n Rics Est (East Riches Road), 0:34 a.m.

I have to confess I've always liked driving during the night. The city was much less crowded and much more comfortable. There was sometimes the typical group of boys/girls coming back from a disco and one of them pukes on the upholstery; but in general, with some chill-out music when all spoken radio programmes ended; I feel relaxed and I like my job. But this night was going to be a little bit different.

This time, I had to work all night long, from 10:00 in the evening to 6:00 in the morning. Previously, I got a cup of Mocca frapuccino in the Starbucks placed in Plaça de McCormick (McCormick Square). At 0:00, in the middle of my favourite radio programme, interrupting a very interesting debate about the future of Alarconia F.C., I was told from the Central to go to the 21, East Riches Road.

I crossed half the city and arrived to the given address, I was in one of the wealthiest neighbourhoods in the city.



A couple hopped in the taxi. Man and woman, both on their 40's; they wore comfortable clothes, nothing special. I thought they seemed a little nervous.

"Where do we go?" I asked in English, as usual.
"Giant District Police Station..." said him in Catalan, I shifted my language.
"Here we go..." I said, turning the radio down and pushing the taximeter buttons.

As I couldn't turn back, I was forced to drive more. The couple were speaking quietly, I couldn't get what they were saying.



Riches Neighbourhood was very calmed that night, as usual I guessed. It is a very pleasant zone, and it is not the suburbs. Riches is placed near the geographical center of Alarconia, but due its very hilly orography, only houses were allowed to be built.
I took Carrer de l'Arbust (Bush Street) and turned right to get Carrer de la Baixada (Slope Street). Then, we arrived to the only arteria in this district, Avinguda de Patch (Patch Avenue). It was when we stopped in front of a traffic light when I heared the woman cry.



"Is everything right, lady?" I asked, not very sure if I should to.
"No. Not much..." the man asked for her. In the next traffic light, I took my tissue box and passed it backwards. "Our son is in trouble."
"Police trouble?"
"Yes. We are going to the police station because of this." I didn't say anything, the woman kept talking for him "He has been caught carrying drugs."
"Uffff... bad problem..." I said.

In Alarconia, anti-drug laws are extremely hard. Due its geographical situation, Alarconia is the first stop for all cocaine traffickeers from Colombia. Because of this, in 1986 the Anti-Drug Act was enacted, making Alarconia one of the least drug-tolerant countries in the world. It gave more severe punishments for traffickeers, for dealers and for consumers too. Trafficking with cocaine, heroine, marijuana and its derivates or any other kind of "new" drug is punished with a minimum of 20 years in prison. Dealing and consuming, are punished with 10 years in prison. Obviously, growing of marijuana plants is absolutely banned too and they are legally treated as illegal firearms.
It is because of this that those parents were so worried.



We turned right to Carrer de França (France Street) and crossed a railroad, then turned left to Ronda del Turonet (Hill Beltway).
"A cop has told us he has been caught carrying hash with some friends while they were in Giant Park. All his friends are in the police station accused of drug possesion or consumption."

We were driving besides Turonet District, a wealthy neighbourhood too, built over a hill. It is rounded by a one-way-road that circles it. Turonet District is surrounded by industrial parks, that provide wealthy jobs for wealthy residents.



Now, we entered in Turonet Industrial Park and drove along Carretera del Túnel (Tunnel Road). Before, it was the only way to to to Tunnel Industrial Park, that at the planning time, was the edge of the city.

"What have we done wrong?" said her "We have always warned him about drugs."
"You know, darling, what usually happens. Remember when we lived in Barcelona..."
"Do you come from there?" I ask, trying to find a reason.
"Yes, we came to Alarconia a couple of months ago."
"I guess that your son has gotten into drugs because he felt... not adapted to his new school or looking for new friends... Although, he must not be aware about anti-drug laws here in Alarconia." it was a risky speech.
"You may be right..." said him, sadly.
"Don't know, just looking for an explanation..."

Accidentally, I misunderstood my GPS device instructions and took a wrong way, I had to change our sense of driving and keep our travel. We were in Barri dels Madrilenys (Madrid People's District), with its famous landmark Madrid Building. This neighbourhood, was founded  as Nuevo Chamartín by a group of people from Madrid, Spain. It was founded as a town separated of Alarconia City, but due city growing, in 1973 was incorporated to Alarconia City and rapidly became a popular and populous neighbourhood.

We went down Carrer de Cibeles (Cybele Street) and crossed the Autopista.

In the backseat, the couple kept regretting their faults.



We entered Tunnel Industrial Park, the last place before Giant District. Traffic was very light at this time and I was tempted to run faster than 50 km/h.

"Is your friend still working in that law firm?" he asked, sure they were going to need a good attorney.
"I think she's working in Barcelona, don't know if she would come here."
"We shouldn't worry about money now, darling. Think in our son."

I drove along Carretera de Dalt (Upper Road) crossing all the industrial park, until we arrived to Carrer de les Boutiques (Boutiques Street), that marked the limit between Giant District and Giant Industrial Park.



I stopped the taxi in front of Giant District Police Station, and I had to charge them the amount that the taximeter said; 35.80 AL$, a little more expensive because they were two people and it was a night travel. The man gave me 36 AL$ and told me to keep the change, 20 cents. Here, in Alarconia, tips were absolutely voluntary but because of the recieved education and culture; usually American-inherited culture people gave much larger tips than Catalan-inherited culture ones.

I didn't started the engine untill the couple reached the police station main entrance. I sipped my frapuccino thinking "the wealthy also cry" while I seeked for my favourite chill-out music radio station.