The cab day on Thursday was going less than stellar. Even with a lucky Corrales run at 5 a.m. to the airport for which the guy gave me sixty bucks, the first nine hours of the day had only netted me seventy bucks take home money. It was pretty slow when I snuck into the airport. A mini-rush had cleared out the cabs, and I sat on the east end island and waited. I saw a couple fares get taken from the west island, and I patiently waited. I saw a father and son talk to a cab on the west island and then walk down to me.

I assumed it was a credit card fare. Albuquerque Yellow Cabs are not equipped with credit card machines , but some drivers have taken it upon themselves to have their own machines. I've heard drivers exclaim that they make more money and get bigger fares with them. When they start talking it up with me, I say "Yeah, I hear those cell phones help, too. I might get one someday." They look at me with disbelief. Not many cab drivers can fathom driving without a cell phone. I've been doing it for almost six years.

Sure enough, the guy wanted to use a credit card. I said "Cash only." He tried the white Albuquerque cab behind us, but I know that none at that company have machines. He came back up to me and asked how much to Santa Fe. "$110." Then, he asked me if I would drive him and his son to Los Alamos, wait for them for about 45 minutes, and then take them to Santa Fe. I checked the sheet and said "$145 plus waiting time." He agreed, said the cash would be waiting at the destination, and off we went. Anyone staying in Santa Fe is not going to stiff the bill.

Off to Los Alamos from Albuquerque. Take I-25 North, 60 miles to Santa Fe, get off on the St. Francis exit to the 285/84 highway for 13 miles, past the Santa Fe Opera and the two fairly new casinos north of Santa Fe (Castle Rock & Buffalo Thunder) to Pojoaque Pueblo. Turn left on State highway 502 for another 32 miles up the mountain by Bandelier National Monument and there's Los Alamos, the hometown of the Atom Bomb.

The father and son kept quiet for most of the trip there. The boy in his book, and the father on his blackberry. Every now and again, the father would complain in his European accent (couldn't quite place it) that his son with an American accent (couldn't quite place it) would rather read his book than talk to his Dad. The boy said a few words stating that the book was the icon of the trip. A strange but probably true statement. I've been on those trips before as a kid. This was supposed to be father/son bonding time, but you could tell they weren't the closest of pals.

The reason for our trip to Los Alamos was to visit the Bradbury Science Museum. I hadn't been to Los Alamos since I was a kid, but towns that small usually have three big streets, and the museum is on one of them. Sure enough, the museum was right off the main road. The father invited me to check out the museum, and I agreed. It was either that or wait in the cab.

I walked in, and the place reeked of science. Something that has never fascinated me. Not biology, not physics, and chemistry only to the slightest degree. I always thought they idea of mixing elements was pretty cool, and of course, I now have a half-breed three-week-old daughter in the other room. Go science!

First and foremost, they had a lot of big wall pages of text and pictures about the bomb. The had a replica of Little Boy, and let me tell you, it's not so little. They explained the journey to the Pacific, the Enola Gay, and the big boom. They staunchly defended dropping the bomb as a life saver more than a destructor. I half agreed with their defense. The other half of me sided with the innocent civilians of Hiroshima who died.

Then, they explained other things they did at the lab. Earthquake testing, X-rays, brain scans, DNA testing, energy windows, pictures of the sun. After looking at about six exhibits, I realized that most of this stuff was done in the 1970s or earlier. The lab is not still working on these things. They aren't telling anyone what they're really working on. They're a freaking national laboratory!

I hit science overload after 45 minutes and told the father and son I'd be in the car. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, and I didn't want to rush them. I sat in the car and read a couple chapters of Lenny Bruce's autobiography How To Talk Dirty And Influence People. It was as entertaining and educational as the science. I even snuck in a little nap.

The father and son came back and we headed to Bishop's Lodge in Santa Fe. A very well-to-do resort. The father exclaimed once that he expected a Thank You letter for the trip, and the son retorted that the trip wasn't done yet. Their family dual would continue, even though you could tell they had a better time than normal.

I charged him $170 which was ten bucks less than I should, and he seemed appreciative of me not taking advantage of him and gave me $180. Everyone was satisfied, and I cruised back to Albuquerque and was an hour and a half late at 6:45 p.m. I would owe $27 in overtime fees, plus lease ($100), plus gas ($60 worth), but I still went home with about $200 take home. A 14-hour work day for me, but it would pay for some holiday groceries.

This Labor weekend, people will travel from here to there with their families. Some will be like that father who works a lot or the son who doesn't connect. Some will be like me and not be impressed with the destination. Still, all three of us found a way to appreciate something about our trip together, and we can all write thank you letters when we can't find the words to say it directly to each other. I guess this is mine.

Chris Jungle would have been a mad scientist.