7:52 p.m. On the road.

I try conversation.

Me: "Why do you work for the escort shuttle service?"

Liz: "I got quaded--lottery number 406 of 406."

Me:"I'm sorry. So, you are also on a mission?" (empathy, empathy)

Liz: "It's like I was called. I get people who were quaded down to the river, so they can see how the other half lives."

7:58 p.m. Cruising Beacon St.

A passenger sits silently in the back. Liz and I talk about the radios and conversations with the dispatchers. "Over the radio, one night a dispatchers. "Over the radio, one night a dispatcher asked 'What is the meaning of life?' So a driver tried to answer, and then the other one jumped in, 'No, no that's completely wrong."

8:05 p.m. Awaiting orders by Widener Gate.

Liz demonstrates her expertise. "If you stop at this light, when it turns green you can hit the pedal as hard as you can and as soon as you get to the next light, it will turn green. The lights are just timed perfectly...of course, I would never do that."

8:17 p.m. Near Kirkland House.

A customer enters. Mueen Batlay, from the Kennedy School, provides a cross-country comparison of escort services. "They drove very fast on the USC escort shuttle. It was very exciting to take it. I don't know much a bout this escort service."

8:34 p.m. On Mass. Ave.

Time for more small talk. Thinking about the cold, lonely nights she faces, I ask Liz what her favorite radio station is. "88.9, from 8 to 11 p.m.," she answers. "After 11 it goes off and they start playing blues. Once, some woman told me 'I thought this hip-hop rap thing was out of style now. "She was an older woman, in grad school."

8:49 p.m. On JFK St.