I had a pretty good Friday night. Lot's of personals, and about 1am they are all delivered to their favorite spots. Now it's flagging time. I'm making tight circles downtown, fishing for people coming off the 1000 block of K. Having K Street open now for those few blocks is good for business.
Round the corner, shouting and giggling. Stop at the light. Barefoot young women carrying their cruel shoes and tiptoeing in their bare feet.
Round the corner. Angry shouting. Can't see anyone. Approaching K on 12th...... . . .Oh Shit! A pile of about 12 or so young Asian men in dress casual: Ya know; newer jeans, with a sport coat. They are throwing punches and insults and moving en mass from the side walk by Gallagher's into the street. I'm already in the far right lane, and I gun it to get past. There was no way I could have turned around. They were about 6 feet from my cab when I passed.
I moved down to almost L Street. I called 911. They were busy. When I finally got someone, there were about 40 guys there at 12th and K. I told the 911 people when the first cop showed up, but also: "There's only one cop." "There are at least 2 dozen people fighting now: OK, there's another cop."
I left when the second cop car showed up. I'd been watching from my rear view mirror. When I rounded the corner from L onto Tenth, I noticed everyone was in confrontation mode: Women screaming at their dates to fuck off, Guys going "What I do?", Guys loudly discussing where the car is, and the relative merits of actually driving it home.
It was time for me to go home.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
I'm home a day early: My boyfriend is going to be so surprised!
I didn't get very far after leaving her off. Good thing her parents lived just a 5 minute ride away.
This has happened several times in the 11 years I've been driving people around.
Those words: They make me cringe.
This has happened several times in the 11 years I've been driving people around.
Those words: They make me cringe.
Enabeling for profit
Oh, I just take people from point A to point B, and take their money.....And they talk....A lot.
They feel they need to explain. Especially the ones who are doing something they might should not do.
I don't drive M any more, pretty much because she said she would pay me on Monday for the eleven 25 dollar rides she took in the two weeks previous. But, when I called her late that night, she said she was in San-Francisco, and had my money, and would give it to me Tuesday. I got it from her mother on Tuesday. I really shouldn't have, as her mother was under the impression I was M's friend, and I just used my Taxi to pick her up for our trips to the Faire, and out to eat.
Maybe M is a little bit of a sociopath. She told me she was 28 early on, and 25 a few months later. I met her when she took 10 dollar rides from her boyfriend's downtown room to her parent's home. I wouldn't flip the meter on till she got in, and he stepped away. But sometimes that took a lot of time. He had more money than he normally would, from an inheritance. Every trip included the gifts he bought her that day, until he got picked up on a parole violation and had to serve out his previous sentence at Duel Vocational Institution in Tracy.
I didn't hear from M for a while after that: Until one day she called from a section 8ish neighborhood in the old north. 28 bucks to take her home. New boyfriend. I gave her a 25 dollar flat rate to keep calling me. I couldn't believe she would be dating such a loser though, and told her so. She paid for everything they did. I was pleased later when she said she had met a nice guy on the Internet who wanted to meet her. I took her to see this guy, and shouldn't have been surprised that she asked me not to tell the regular slug. I even drove her to where she was to pick up the new guy to take them both to the Faire. And again I shouldn't have been surprised that when he did not show up, she had me pick up the slug and take them to the Faire.
Now I'm actually thinking that if I make myself unavailable, she will have to pay more for her rock and roll lifestyle, but I do need the money, and I am actually available. So she confesses to me that she regularly takes hundred dollar bills out of her 70ish fathers wallet.
Ok, so now I have zero respect for her. So I don't bother with the speeches about how much better she could do than the convict and the slug. What to talk about. She is always amused by my Weird Al renditions of popular music. She tells me her mom thinks we're good friends, and doesn't know she pays me for rides. And I should let her believe that. Hmmm. I'm about the same age as her mom. This is getting uncomfortable.
And I feel guilty about all this......Ya: By the time she decided I could wait another day to get paid, I was done. All her mom knows is that she was indeed paying for rides, and was probably relieved to know her daughter did not, after all, have a 'very special' relationship with a middle aged woman.
They feel they need to explain. Especially the ones who are doing something they might should not do.
I don't drive M any more, pretty much because she said she would pay me on Monday for the eleven 25 dollar rides she took in the two weeks previous. But, when I called her late that night, she said she was in San-Francisco, and had my money, and would give it to me Tuesday. I got it from her mother on Tuesday. I really shouldn't have, as her mother was under the impression I was M's friend, and I just used my Taxi to pick her up for our trips to the Faire, and out to eat.
Maybe M is a little bit of a sociopath. She told me she was 28 early on, and 25 a few months later. I met her when she took 10 dollar rides from her boyfriend's downtown room to her parent's home. I wouldn't flip the meter on till she got in, and he stepped away. But sometimes that took a lot of time. He had more money than he normally would, from an inheritance. Every trip included the gifts he bought her that day, until he got picked up on a parole violation and had to serve out his previous sentence at Duel Vocational Institution in Tracy.
I didn't hear from M for a while after that: Until one day she called from a section 8ish neighborhood in the old north. 28 bucks to take her home. New boyfriend. I gave her a 25 dollar flat rate to keep calling me. I couldn't believe she would be dating such a loser though, and told her so. She paid for everything they did. I was pleased later when she said she had met a nice guy on the Internet who wanted to meet her. I took her to see this guy, and shouldn't have been surprised that she asked me not to tell the regular slug. I even drove her to where she was to pick up the new guy to take them both to the Faire. And again I shouldn't have been surprised that when he did not show up, she had me pick up the slug and take them to the Faire.
Now I'm actually thinking that if I make myself unavailable, she will have to pay more for her rock and roll lifestyle, but I do need the money, and I am actually available. So she confesses to me that she regularly takes hundred dollar bills out of her 70ish fathers wallet.
Ok, so now I have zero respect for her. So I don't bother with the speeches about how much better she could do than the convict and the slug. What to talk about. She is always amused by my Weird Al renditions of popular music. She tells me her mom thinks we're good friends, and doesn't know she pays me for rides. And I should let her believe that. Hmmm. I'm about the same age as her mom. This is getting uncomfortable.
And I feel guilty about all this......Ya: By the time she decided I could wait another day to get paid, I was done. All her mom knows is that she was indeed paying for rides, and was probably relieved to know her daughter did not, after all, have a 'very special' relationship with a middle aged woman.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
I need a discount so I can gamble it away.
No really: I don't want to drive you to Thunder Valley for 50 dollars, when I could run several 10 to 20 dollar runs in the couple of hours it takes to get to you, get you up there, and get back into town.
And then the next day, when you tell me all about the almost twenty thousand dollars you won, and how you spent it, and how much you put in the bank, and how much you gave your buddies, and the chick who showed up and hung around after you won, and how now you want to go back up there because you are on a streak: Don't you think maybe I would like a big tip, and not another request for a discount?
I was washing my car one day off, wearing shorts and flip flops, and without any of my official cabbie paperwork or permits, when an old guy accosts me before I can put my quarters in the vacuum. He wants to know how much to Thunder Valley. I told him 70 dollars, and he jumped in the front seat, gave me 70 dollars, and told me to hurry up and get down the street. He looked both ways better than I ever did on a school day, and told me to hurry again. Then I saw the old woman running down the street yelling at my cab, even though I knew she couldn't see inside. Old man told me we had to get down the road before his wife could catch up.
Wow..........I didn't know how to feel about all that. I got up on the freeway at Reed Ave. and booked it to the casino. He was in a hurry there too; jumped out and disappeared.
So I had 70 bucks I wasn't expecting that day. I parked and went in, in sloppy car washing clothes. I needn't have worried about that. Some of those people actually looked homeless. And some were all dressed up too, but it looked like a "come as you are" party. I got on a quarter machine, and went through 20 dollars in no time. I thought 50 dollars on my day off was a good thing, and drove back home.
And then the next day, when you tell me all about the almost twenty thousand dollars you won, and how you spent it, and how much you put in the bank, and how much you gave your buddies, and the chick who showed up and hung around after you won, and how now you want to go back up there because you are on a streak: Don't you think maybe I would like a big tip, and not another request for a discount?
I was washing my car one day off, wearing shorts and flip flops, and without any of my official cabbie paperwork or permits, when an old guy accosts me before I can put my quarters in the vacuum. He wants to know how much to Thunder Valley. I told him 70 dollars, and he jumped in the front seat, gave me 70 dollars, and told me to hurry up and get down the street. He looked both ways better than I ever did on a school day, and told me to hurry again. Then I saw the old woman running down the street yelling at my cab, even though I knew she couldn't see inside. Old man told me we had to get down the road before his wife could catch up.
Wow..........I didn't know how to feel about all that. I got up on the freeway at Reed Ave. and booked it to the casino. He was in a hurry there too; jumped out and disappeared.
So I had 70 bucks I wasn't expecting that day. I parked and went in, in sloppy car washing clothes. I needn't have worried about that. Some of those people actually looked homeless. And some were all dressed up too, but it looked like a "come as you are" party. I got on a quarter machine, and went through 20 dollars in no time. I thought 50 dollars on my day off was a good thing, and drove back home.
Lets get a cab!
Those 4 little words I love to hear, as I screech to a halt: "Lets get a cab!" They are why I keep my passenger side window open, as I drive along the far right lanes of every midtown street. And if I stop, they all get in. If I hear it, they are committed.
"Are there any liquor stores open around here?" No, but if we get to Safeway in the next few minutes, you can still buy it right up till 2am. "Why do liquor stores close before they have to?!" Because they don't want fights to break out with people who picked out their booze at 3 minutes till, and had to stand in line behind every one else, only to find it is 2:06, and the clerk is not going to sell it to them. So Safeway it is.
I just love desperate social drinkers: Drinks with dinner, drinks at the 2 or 3 different bars they had to cab to, one after the other, and now that the clubs are closing: Gotta get more booze for drinking at Jennifer's, or Brittney's, or Cody's. Then it gets even better going through the Del-Taco drive through. 28 bucks an hour.
Well, you know what I really like? Aw! Shuckins! I like when the above described young people get my card, call me over and over as the weeks and months go by. They party, they yell, they mate, and unmate, and lament the fates of other matings. They begin to chat about drinking too much, not getting to work on time the next day, how the best buddy shouldn't drink as much as he does, because he's such an asshole when he does. How the friend said something stupid, and lost his girlfriend, or the girlfriend drank so much she forgot who she came to the party with.
Time goes by, and I see the group(s) less and less. I wonder if they found another taxi they like better.... No: when they call, I find smaller groups, or couples. They talk about new jobs, new girlfriends, going to their friend's weddings, new engagements. Sometimes I get sent to pick up parents, or take them to family get togethers, rather than bars and parties.
I freakin love it.
"Are there any liquor stores open around here?" No, but if we get to Safeway in the next few minutes, you can still buy it right up till 2am. "Why do liquor stores close before they have to?!" Because they don't want fights to break out with people who picked out their booze at 3 minutes till, and had to stand in line behind every one else, only to find it is 2:06, and the clerk is not going to sell it to them. So Safeway it is.
I just love desperate social drinkers: Drinks with dinner, drinks at the 2 or 3 different bars they had to cab to, one after the other, and now that the clubs are closing: Gotta get more booze for drinking at Jennifer's, or Brittney's, or Cody's. Then it gets even better going through the Del-Taco drive through. 28 bucks an hour.
Well, you know what I really like? Aw! Shuckins! I like when the above described young people get my card, call me over and over as the weeks and months go by. They party, they yell, they mate, and unmate, and lament the fates of other matings. They begin to chat about drinking too much, not getting to work on time the next day, how the best buddy shouldn't drink as much as he does, because he's such an asshole when he does. How the friend said something stupid, and lost his girlfriend, or the girlfriend drank so much she forgot who she came to the party with.
Time goes by, and I see the group(s) less and less. I wonder if they found another taxi they like better.... No: when they call, I find smaller groups, or couples. They talk about new jobs, new girlfriends, going to their friend's weddings, new engagements. Sometimes I get sent to pick up parents, or take them to family get togethers, rather than bars and parties.
I freakin love it.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Brutal days, and teaser nights.
Why are all these day shift drivers out here at night? Can't be the heat. We're not really having a summer this summer.
I notice more gypsy cars picking up and dropping off in midtown lately. No TCP numbers. I have to pay about 400 per year for business licences, permits, pee tests. The guy who owns the cab I lease really puts out the bucks for inspections, mechanics, permits, etc. We have to pay our required dispatchers. Ya...Even with everyone on a cell phone, we still need to have a dispatch service; because the city says we do. Not that the other guys actually do. They don't, and nobody checks. And then the gypsies don't do any of the above. Don't even know if they're insured.
So on I go. Start officially at 3pm, but only actually out there by then if one of my personals call. I have one who calls at 2:30 lately, so now I do more hours just for that. I take her back home about 7-8pm, when it's still daylight. That's when I got frustrated on 160 behind a silver mini-van, that was slowing down, then speeding up a little, then coasting slower. I couldn't get around it for a mile, then the left lane cleared, and I pulled up on his left, curious about who was driving like that. There was a slender 60ish man, with a nice tan, and a neatly trimmed grey beard in the front passenger seat. I could see the silhouette of other adults in the back behind tinted windows. In the driver's seat, was a little freckle faced boy, who looked about 7. The tan guy in front must have seen my jaw drop. He sat straight up, and faced straight ahead: Never flinched.
Now I'm at Richard's Blvd, at my sweeping right turn, flabbergasted, watching the van continue slowly on down 12th street, when I spot a CHP vehicle second in line at the light, waiting to make a left onto 16th. I stuck my hand and head out the window, pointing down 12th, as he rolled down his window. I yelled: "There's a CHILD driving a silver mini van: A CHILD!". A woman in a regular car behind him yelled at me: "Where?". All I could do was point. He put on his lights, and turned south through the other waiting cars. I'm sure he got the van. It was going slower than the rest of traffic.
Yes: All kinds of bizarre things happen at night; but this was daytime; and I couldn't stop thinking about it the whole shift. I had my passenger freaked out because I was freaked out. She kept asking me if I was O K. We'd been talking about her puppy before I saw the kid.
But soon enough it was dark. Rex phoned me to tell me to get over to 28th and I as fast as I could. He showed up for a personal, and found they needed a van. Rex used to drive a van. He really hadn't remembered these people who had his number. So I zooped over to find 5 people on one of those high Victorian porches. As they piled into the van, they commented that I was so nice. I know what that means: I'm gonna hear about who wasn't nice.
Some one in the group had been using Yellow, and so called for the group. The guy shows up in a sedan for a call for 5 people. When they tell him they were expecting a van, he guy tells them to fuck off. Wow! I say to that. Glad they called Rex, but wonder how that came about. Someone had a our business card, with Rex's number written on it. Probably got it after flagging him down. This was the first time she used the card. And she probably wouldn't have, if that guy wasn't so frustrated. I know: Every body's frustrated these days. Cab drivers are disappearing like flies in the winter. Wonder what they're doing instead.
So in frustration I go cruising east on K Street. It's dark now. But, I can see the guy who always has his arms up in the air. He's standing at 25th, trying to cross K. I stop. I stick my left hand out, because I see cars coming up fast behind me. There is only one lane in each direction, but some times they will go around anyway. Sandy in the BC van is coming from the other direction. She stops. I hope she didn't think I was putting my hand up at her. Mr. arms up crossed. I wonder if he lives in an apartment, or sleeps on the sidewalk. He looks like the latter, but I'm pretty sure guys like that get help.
Well: sometimes that help is a "group home". The last time I took someone to a group home; she needed help into the front seat, and then asked me to go to the door of the "home" when we got there to fetch her wheelchair. I went toward the open front door, and hit a smell 6 feet from it. A round young woman sat on a built in bench on the wall leading to the door. Couldn't see a wheelchair, so I asked her about it. She went in, and closed the door. I had to knock. She came to the door, and just looked at me, sighed, and looked behind her at the other people there. When I spied the chair, she sighed again, and lumbered over to get it. She pushed it out the door, and shut the door behind her. I had to open the door myself when I pushed my passenger up the walk in her chair. She got up, left the chair outside, and walked the walls into the place, and down a hall. I never saw any one supervising anything. It looked like the lunatics were running the asylum. And they didn't seem to have any sympathy for the woman who'd just come home. I've seen others like that. Someone is getting paid to maintain those dumps.
The Club TuMe was hopping Saturday Night. I kept going back for more. Got 3 short rides, and one good long one. Someone figured it out, and the cabs started piling up in front: Tried Clubhouse 56. Nothing: The parking lot was full, and everybody was inside the place. I guess they all stayed till 2am, but I don't know, I had a 2am at the Radison. He goes all the way to Greenhaven, so I'm done after that run....sort of. I come up I-5, get off on J, and make a short loop downtown, just to see if there are any stragglers. I get one half the time, but then that is my last for sure. Got nothing that time.
It was a beautiful night. We went to IHOP over on Reed Ave. Rex was starving. I wasn't, but I enjoyed his watermelon. Ate all of it out of his fruit bowl. It felt wonderful just dithering in the parking lot after our meal. Didn't mind walking the dogs when we got home. Dogs didn't mind either: Nice warm breeze.
There's a nice breeze coming in the window right now. No wonder all the night crowd wants to walk.
I notice more gypsy cars picking up and dropping off in midtown lately. No TCP numbers. I have to pay about 400 per year for business licences, permits, pee tests. The guy who owns the cab I lease really puts out the bucks for inspections, mechanics, permits, etc. We have to pay our required dispatchers. Ya...Even with everyone on a cell phone, we still need to have a dispatch service; because the city says we do. Not that the other guys actually do. They don't, and nobody checks. And then the gypsies don't do any of the above. Don't even know if they're insured.
So on I go. Start officially at 3pm, but only actually out there by then if one of my personals call. I have one who calls at 2:30 lately, so now I do more hours just for that. I take her back home about 7-8pm, when it's still daylight. That's when I got frustrated on 160 behind a silver mini-van, that was slowing down, then speeding up a little, then coasting slower. I couldn't get around it for a mile, then the left lane cleared, and I pulled up on his left, curious about who was driving like that. There was a slender 60ish man, with a nice tan, and a neatly trimmed grey beard in the front passenger seat. I could see the silhouette of other adults in the back behind tinted windows. In the driver's seat, was a little freckle faced boy, who looked about 7. The tan guy in front must have seen my jaw drop. He sat straight up, and faced straight ahead: Never flinched.
Now I'm at Richard's Blvd, at my sweeping right turn, flabbergasted, watching the van continue slowly on down 12th street, when I spot a CHP vehicle second in line at the light, waiting to make a left onto 16th. I stuck my hand and head out the window, pointing down 12th, as he rolled down his window. I yelled: "There's a CHILD driving a silver mini van: A CHILD!". A woman in a regular car behind him yelled at me: "Where?". All I could do was point. He put on his lights, and turned south through the other waiting cars. I'm sure he got the van. It was going slower than the rest of traffic.
Yes: All kinds of bizarre things happen at night; but this was daytime; and I couldn't stop thinking about it the whole shift. I had my passenger freaked out because I was freaked out. She kept asking me if I was O K. We'd been talking about her puppy before I saw the kid.
But soon enough it was dark. Rex phoned me to tell me to get over to 28th and I as fast as I could. He showed up for a personal, and found they needed a van. Rex used to drive a van. He really hadn't remembered these people who had his number. So I zooped over to find 5 people on one of those high Victorian porches. As they piled into the van, they commented that I was so nice. I know what that means: I'm gonna hear about who wasn't nice.
Some one in the group had been using Yellow, and so called for the group. The guy shows up in a sedan for a call for 5 people. When they tell him they were expecting a van, he guy tells them to fuck off. Wow! I say to that. Glad they called Rex, but wonder how that came about. Someone had a our business card, with Rex's number written on it. Probably got it after flagging him down. This was the first time she used the card. And she probably wouldn't have, if that guy wasn't so frustrated. I know: Every body's frustrated these days. Cab drivers are disappearing like flies in the winter. Wonder what they're doing instead.
So in frustration I go cruising east on K Street. It's dark now. But, I can see the guy who always has his arms up in the air. He's standing at 25th, trying to cross K. I stop. I stick my left hand out, because I see cars coming up fast behind me. There is only one lane in each direction, but some times they will go around anyway. Sandy in the BC van is coming from the other direction. She stops. I hope she didn't think I was putting my hand up at her. Mr. arms up crossed. I wonder if he lives in an apartment, or sleeps on the sidewalk. He looks like the latter, but I'm pretty sure guys like that get help.
Well: sometimes that help is a "group home". The last time I took someone to a group home; she needed help into the front seat, and then asked me to go to the door of the "home" when we got there to fetch her wheelchair. I went toward the open front door, and hit a smell 6 feet from it. A round young woman sat on a built in bench on the wall leading to the door. Couldn't see a wheelchair, so I asked her about it. She went in, and closed the door. I had to knock. She came to the door, and just looked at me, sighed, and looked behind her at the other people there. When I spied the chair, she sighed again, and lumbered over to get it. She pushed it out the door, and shut the door behind her. I had to open the door myself when I pushed my passenger up the walk in her chair. She got up, left the chair outside, and walked the walls into the place, and down a hall. I never saw any one supervising anything. It looked like the lunatics were running the asylum. And they didn't seem to have any sympathy for the woman who'd just come home. I've seen others like that. Someone is getting paid to maintain those dumps.
The Club TuMe was hopping Saturday Night. I kept going back for more. Got 3 short rides, and one good long one. Someone figured it out, and the cabs started piling up in front: Tried Clubhouse 56. Nothing: The parking lot was full, and everybody was inside the place. I guess they all stayed till 2am, but I don't know, I had a 2am at the Radison. He goes all the way to Greenhaven, so I'm done after that run....sort of. I come up I-5, get off on J, and make a short loop downtown, just to see if there are any stragglers. I get one half the time, but then that is my last for sure. Got nothing that time.
It was a beautiful night. We went to IHOP over on Reed Ave. Rex was starving. I wasn't, but I enjoyed his watermelon. Ate all of it out of his fruit bowl. It felt wonderful just dithering in the parking lot after our meal. Didn't mind walking the dogs when we got home. Dogs didn't mind either: Nice warm breeze.
There's a nice breeze coming in the window right now. No wonder all the night crowd wants to walk.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
An entire subculture appears to have disappeared.
I noticed their absence when I returned from my absence of 13 years.
I remember their fresh cologne on old sweat and urine. Their "devil may care" attitude.
When I finally got a day shift, after a year and a half of driving these professional imbibers home at 2am, I noticed they were out there all day too. I drove them home for their lunch naps, and back when they woke up, for their second shifts.
What I really noticed upon my return to Sacramento, and cab driving, is that I no longer use up a large can of Lysol in one week. I don't really have to vacuum the seats every single time. The old ones have discovered the magic of the normal: "daily bath", or: They all died. Or: now I hear they are all at the Monte Carlo.
I remember their fresh cologne on old sweat and urine. Their "devil may care" attitude.
When I finally got a day shift, after a year and a half of driving these professional imbibers home at 2am, I noticed they were out there all day too. I drove them home for their lunch naps, and back when they woke up, for their second shifts.
What I really noticed upon my return to Sacramento, and cab driving, is that I no longer use up a large can of Lysol in one week. I don't really have to vacuum the seats every single time. The old ones have discovered the magic of the normal: "daily bath", or: They all died. Or: now I hear they are all at the Monte Carlo.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Four Classy Ladies
Oh ya! Those 4 women I got in front of Chargin's.
This happened a few months ago, in cooler weather. Doing my slow cruise, saw a few people ahead as I passed 2 cabs parked at TuMe. I parked and observed. Really, I'm looking for any sign that they are outside for anything other than a smoke break. There were still two women outside when I parked, and people were sticking their heads out the big door and going back in. I noticed the two 30ish women were dressed alike: Light blue tailored jeans, black spike heal boots, and black tops and jackets. Both had long brown hair with bangs of the curling iron curtain type. One of them was dominating the conversation with all kinds of "Fuck yous", "Fuck hers", and "I don't give a fucks". She looked for a split second at me looking, and made a point to ignore me. And on with: "Fuck Becky!".
She stays outside smoking when her clone pushed the swinging door in and came out with two more copies. Her 3 minions pile into the back seat of the cab, while she looks to me like she's searching her brain for a reason to object, but then takes her place in the front seat, and looks right at me like she expects a show. I said: "Where to"?
Don't even remember who told me to head east, and finally detailed it to La-Riv. They were all excited about some other chick they tried to talk about, but Mother Fuckyou interupted every other word. Still they kept trying to start sentences, but the fuck yous, fuck hers, and fuck Beckys just kept coming. Someone suggested Jack in the Box, and I tried to confirm. I noticed Mother Fuckyou had her face at my shoulder level, looking right at my right arm. I ignored her and got a final decision to go to the McDonald's on College Town. She kept interrupting everything the gals in the back tried to say, and they kept trying. We zooped right into the drive through, with only one vehicle in front, and already past the speaker box.
The order was taken through the window behind me, while Mother Fuckyou still had her face at my arm, with one hand up guarding the other, as I was pretty sure she had her middle finger up behind it. She was grinning and looking at her gals. Her face just got too close to me. I said: "Get your face outa mine!". She did, but looked behind her, and started putting her hands on the radio. I told her to stop it, and keep her hands off the equipment. She did the old snaky hands all over everything move, and I had to just tell her to get out. We were still behind a small white pick up. Mother Fuckyou actually told me she didn't have to get out. I very calmly told her: "Yes you do". One of the clones asked if they had to get out too. I said only their friend in front had to. But another one declared that she too would get out, if her friend had to. I reminded them all that they owed me 15 dollars. The ones in back all scrambled to gather it up, as front lady just sat there objecting. She told them no one had to pay, if they had to get out. No one made a move to get out, but one tried to slip a credit card to Front lady. She tried to take it when she finally saw it, but she was drunk enough to keep forgetting her objective, and the card slipped to the floor. I ended up with 15 dollars cash, and unlocked all the doors. I don't think Front one noticed she could have opened her door anyway, but they all got out at the same time, discussing how they would get their food. The truck was gone, and they just walked in front of my car, while I stayed where I was. They discussed it with the window guy, mostly not looking at me, but at one point front lady gave me the evil eye, smiled, and ever so delicately stepped back two paces, so I could not pass. One companion noticed and copied her move. The other 2 just looked worried. I filled out my log, and when I looked up, they were gone.
I could have avoided the whole thing................. I decided to let them in because I kinda knew they were going east. I saw enough dollar signs to justify what I thought would just be haughty insinuations of my station vs. hers. I guess she was too drunk to be subtle. But I won. I got paid, and I would be surprised if all 3 of those women were still her friends: One maybe. Not all 3.
This happened a few months ago, in cooler weather. Doing my slow cruise, saw a few people ahead as I passed 2 cabs parked at TuMe. I parked and observed. Really, I'm looking for any sign that they are outside for anything other than a smoke break. There were still two women outside when I parked, and people were sticking their heads out the big door and going back in. I noticed the two 30ish women were dressed alike: Light blue tailored jeans, black spike heal boots, and black tops and jackets. Both had long brown hair with bangs of the curling iron curtain type. One of them was dominating the conversation with all kinds of "Fuck yous", "Fuck hers", and "I don't give a fucks". She looked for a split second at me looking, and made a point to ignore me. And on with: "Fuck Becky!".
She stays outside smoking when her clone pushed the swinging door in and came out with two more copies. Her 3 minions pile into the back seat of the cab, while she looks to me like she's searching her brain for a reason to object, but then takes her place in the front seat, and looks right at me like she expects a show. I said: "Where to"?
Don't even remember who told me to head east, and finally detailed it to La-Riv. They were all excited about some other chick they tried to talk about, but Mother Fuckyou interupted every other word. Still they kept trying to start sentences, but the fuck yous, fuck hers, and fuck Beckys just kept coming. Someone suggested Jack in the Box, and I tried to confirm. I noticed Mother Fuckyou had her face at my shoulder level, looking right at my right arm. I ignored her and got a final decision to go to the McDonald's on College Town. She kept interrupting everything the gals in the back tried to say, and they kept trying. We zooped right into the drive through, with only one vehicle in front, and already past the speaker box.
The order was taken through the window behind me, while Mother Fuckyou still had her face at my arm, with one hand up guarding the other, as I was pretty sure she had her middle finger up behind it. She was grinning and looking at her gals. Her face just got too close to me. I said: "Get your face outa mine!". She did, but looked behind her, and started putting her hands on the radio. I told her to stop it, and keep her hands off the equipment. She did the old snaky hands all over everything move, and I had to just tell her to get out. We were still behind a small white pick up. Mother Fuckyou actually told me she didn't have to get out. I very calmly told her: "Yes you do". One of the clones asked if they had to get out too. I said only their friend in front had to. But another one declared that she too would get out, if her friend had to. I reminded them all that they owed me 15 dollars. The ones in back all scrambled to gather it up, as front lady just sat there objecting. She told them no one had to pay, if they had to get out. No one made a move to get out, but one tried to slip a credit card to Front lady. She tried to take it when she finally saw it, but she was drunk enough to keep forgetting her objective, and the card slipped to the floor. I ended up with 15 dollars cash, and unlocked all the doors. I don't think Front one noticed she could have opened her door anyway, but they all got out at the same time, discussing how they would get their food. The truck was gone, and they just walked in front of my car, while I stayed where I was. They discussed it with the window guy, mostly not looking at me, but at one point front lady gave me the evil eye, smiled, and ever so delicately stepped back two paces, so I could not pass. One companion noticed and copied her move. The other 2 just looked worried. I filled out my log, and when I looked up, they were gone.
I could have avoided the whole thing................. I decided to let them in because I kinda knew they were going east. I saw enough dollar signs to justify what I thought would just be haughty insinuations of my station vs. hers. I guess she was too drunk to be subtle. But I won. I got paid, and I would be surprised if all 3 of those women were still her friends: One maybe. Not all 3.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
"Hey Lorraine. Why didn't you take that flag in front of the Senator?"
It was one of those squirelly nights: Groups ditching some of their 'friends', Bewildered dichees wondering whether to go home, or try to guess where their 'friends' went, Clueless ditchees chasing the cab that has the 'friends' speeding away.
Rarely some older creep will try to ride with one or maybe two extremely drunk young people. One tried to go home with a blind college student.
It seems like the creeps all come out on the same nights together.
So last weekend..........probably Friday night, during that frantic last hour before the bars close, I'd decided to head in the direction of home, and pick up anything I saw on the way. On L. Street, with 10th in my sights, I saw a hand go up in front of the Senator. It was two dark haired white guys in suits, one draped over the other. I pulled over toward them, lowered my window, heard one say: "no, I'm not going with you." to the other. And something told me to leave them there. I pulled a little away. They had started toward me, and I loudly uttered: "No". Sober guy says: "No?", as I pull away.
I continued on to 10th, and stopped at the red light next to the first taxi in line on the stand at 10 and K. A woman looked at me, and walked past the line up to me and asked me if I was free. Off we went to Capitol Towers. She gave me a good tip. I told her about the guys I rejected just before she got in.
Ok, now I'm on my way home for real. Phone call: It's Richard. He was parked at the Hyatt when I almost picked up at the Senator. He was just leaving the line up there, saw me leave the two guys, and pulled over to get them himself. Sober guy gave him 40 bucks to take the drape to Land Park. Drape turns out to be a pain in the ass all the way down Land Park Drive: Making noise, touching stuff, saying absurd things, and not telling Richard where on Land Park he lives. Richard drove up and down the road asking him over and over where his house was, and the Bozo just kept up the lunacy. So Richard just told him to get out. He wouldn't get out. Richard, exasperated, just drove the guy to the only place he knew for sure there was a cop: 16th and L. Four blocks from where Sober guy had given him 40 dollars to take the drape home.
At least Richard got paid. But he wanted to know why I rejected them. Something just said: NO!
There were lot's of flags out that night. It took me another hour to finally get home. I didn't lose anything listening to that little, and sometimes big voice that guides me away from trouble.
Kinda funny too: I knew the guy wasn't dangerous. I just wasn't in the mood for that kind of bullshit. Somehow I knew the guy would act like that. And the dangerous ones: I actually get a shot of fear that makes me check the locks as I drive away. That shot of fear is physical too. I feel it in my gut, and my heart pounds.
I picked up four women once in front of Chargin's, who turned out to be just what I thought they might be, but looking back: I believe I was in the mood for a challenge. I took them. I won that one.
copyright 2011
Rarely some older creep will try to ride with one or maybe two extremely drunk young people. One tried to go home with a blind college student.
It seems like the creeps all come out on the same nights together.
So last weekend..........probably Friday night, during that frantic last hour before the bars close, I'd decided to head in the direction of home, and pick up anything I saw on the way. On L. Street, with 10th in my sights, I saw a hand go up in front of the Senator. It was two dark haired white guys in suits, one draped over the other. I pulled over toward them, lowered my window, heard one say: "no, I'm not going with you." to the other. And something told me to leave them there. I pulled a little away. They had started toward me, and I loudly uttered: "No". Sober guy says: "No?", as I pull away.
I continued on to 10th, and stopped at the red light next to the first taxi in line on the stand at 10 and K. A woman looked at me, and walked past the line up to me and asked me if I was free. Off we went to Capitol Towers. She gave me a good tip. I told her about the guys I rejected just before she got in.
Ok, now I'm on my way home for real. Phone call: It's Richard. He was parked at the Hyatt when I almost picked up at the Senator. He was just leaving the line up there, saw me leave the two guys, and pulled over to get them himself. Sober guy gave him 40 bucks to take the drape to Land Park. Drape turns out to be a pain in the ass all the way down Land Park Drive: Making noise, touching stuff, saying absurd things, and not telling Richard where on Land Park he lives. Richard drove up and down the road asking him over and over where his house was, and the Bozo just kept up the lunacy. So Richard just told him to get out. He wouldn't get out. Richard, exasperated, just drove the guy to the only place he knew for sure there was a cop: 16th and L. Four blocks from where Sober guy had given him 40 dollars to take the drape home.
At least Richard got paid. But he wanted to know why I rejected them. Something just said: NO!
There were lot's of flags out that night. It took me another hour to finally get home. I didn't lose anything listening to that little, and sometimes big voice that guides me away from trouble.
Kinda funny too: I knew the guy wasn't dangerous. I just wasn't in the mood for that kind of bullshit. Somehow I knew the guy would act like that. And the dangerous ones: I actually get a shot of fear that makes me check the locks as I drive away. That shot of fear is physical too. I feel it in my gut, and my heart pounds.
I picked up four women once in front of Chargin's, who turned out to be just what I thought they might be, but looking back: I believe I was in the mood for a challenge. I took them. I won that one.
copyright 2011
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
A taxi card, that says "Lorraine", and has a phone number.
I should really change that to: Taxilorraine, when I write my cell number on the business cards I get from the shop. I'm doing that now actually, but it's still kinda funny when I get hang up calls. Funnier when the call comes when I'm up, the phone's on, and I'm not at work yet. I just say: "Hello?"
I'm awful: I'm a grandma, but I guess my voice is still sexy half the time. It amuses me.
So Jed didn't seem too concerned when I told him that his phone called me a week earlier, twice in 2 minutes. I was driving a passenger on the freeway. All I could hear was an angry female yelling in a crowded place. I heard his voice somewhere in all that; but, he wasn't the one holding the phone. Wonder how that all turned out. He and his best bud, and a female I think was probably with him did catch a ride with me a week later.
But really: I should try to avoid that kind of thing if I can....really.
The dispatchers e-mail taxi calls to the driver's cell phones. We get the address and phone number of our customers. And half the time, just phone the rider when we get to the address. So my cell number shows up on the list of calls on the customer's phone.
I woke up one morning to a voice mail from a female I had driven the night before. She had a cell phone with her when I picked her up from her home, and took her across town to some other home. Must have been her husband's phone. She must have forgotten she called a cab with it, and received a call from the driver on it. She told my voicemail that Herb was her man, and I should stay away from him. She wanted me to call her back to explain my relationship with him. She told me he had herpes. All this from an unrecognisable number on his phone. I wonder what Herb looks like. I'll want to avoid him for sure. Now that had nothing to do with my card. I don't think she even knows the voice on the voice mail was the woman who drove her the night before. Just gonna leave that one alone. No sense leaving my number on that phone again, lest she not be the one to answer.
I just love the calls I get from druggies and pimps. How do I know they're druggies and pimps? It goes like this: I get a call to pick up "Fred" at the Super 8, in front of the lobby. It's a long way to the call, so I call the number to be sure it's legit. I get a long running homemade rap song for voicemail. I don't bother to go any farther. If they don't answer their phone, I don't go. Later that night, I answer my phone: "Taxi Lorraine". And a guy demands: "Who Zis?" I tell them it's Lorraine, the taxi driver. Sometimes they hang up, and sometimes demand to know why I called their phone. Then I program: "Not!" into my phone for that number.
There is a two way radio in the cab, and I have my cell phone. They make me feel safe. No one borrows my phone. Some don't get it. I'll offer to make a call and relay a message, but the phone stays in my hands. I'm still surprised how many don't want to make the call at all if they can't hold the phone. But I shouldn't be. I seem know who to ask for money up front from. I'm not surprised when they can't or won't produce it.
Why does a person look at all the numbers in their call list, and call the unfamiliar one? I had a ditsy customer programed into my phone as: Ditz. She had done a ditsy thing one night. Time went by, and I finally got dispatched to pick her up months later. I called her from the parking lot at her complex. She came out and got in, My phone rang. I picked it up and looked at it, puzzled. I said: "Ditz is calling me". She said: "what?". I repeated: "I got a call from Ditz." She was silent the rest of the ride, and it took me a while before I remembered that this woman was usually more animated: Ditsy really. I checked the numbers after she got out. It was her. OMG, how bad should I feel?
I'm awful: I'm a grandma, but I guess my voice is still sexy half the time. It amuses me.
So Jed didn't seem too concerned when I told him that his phone called me a week earlier, twice in 2 minutes. I was driving a passenger on the freeway. All I could hear was an angry female yelling in a crowded place. I heard his voice somewhere in all that; but, he wasn't the one holding the phone. Wonder how that all turned out. He and his best bud, and a female I think was probably with him did catch a ride with me a week later.
But really: I should try to avoid that kind of thing if I can....really.
The dispatchers e-mail taxi calls to the driver's cell phones. We get the address and phone number of our customers. And half the time, just phone the rider when we get to the address. So my cell number shows up on the list of calls on the customer's phone.
I woke up one morning to a voice mail from a female I had driven the night before. She had a cell phone with her when I picked her up from her home, and took her across town to some other home. Must have been her husband's phone. She must have forgotten she called a cab with it, and received a call from the driver on it. She told my voicemail that Herb was her man, and I should stay away from him. She wanted me to call her back to explain my relationship with him. She told me he had herpes. All this from an unrecognisable number on his phone. I wonder what Herb looks like. I'll want to avoid him for sure. Now that had nothing to do with my card. I don't think she even knows the voice on the voice mail was the woman who drove her the night before. Just gonna leave that one alone. No sense leaving my number on that phone again, lest she not be the one to answer.
I just love the calls I get from druggies and pimps. How do I know they're druggies and pimps? It goes like this: I get a call to pick up "Fred" at the Super 8, in front of the lobby. It's a long way to the call, so I call the number to be sure it's legit. I get a long running homemade rap song for voicemail. I don't bother to go any farther. If they don't answer their phone, I don't go. Later that night, I answer my phone: "Taxi Lorraine". And a guy demands: "Who Zis?" I tell them it's Lorraine, the taxi driver. Sometimes they hang up, and sometimes demand to know why I called their phone. Then I program: "Not!" into my phone for that number.
There is a two way radio in the cab, and I have my cell phone. They make me feel safe. No one borrows my phone. Some don't get it. I'll offer to make a call and relay a message, but the phone stays in my hands. I'm still surprised how many don't want to make the call at all if they can't hold the phone. But I shouldn't be. I seem know who to ask for money up front from. I'm not surprised when they can't or won't produce it.
Why does a person look at all the numbers in their call list, and call the unfamiliar one? I had a ditsy customer programed into my phone as: Ditz. She had done a ditsy thing one night. Time went by, and I finally got dispatched to pick her up months later. I called her from the parking lot at her complex. She came out and got in, My phone rang. I picked it up and looked at it, puzzled. I said: "Ditz is calling me". She said: "what?". I repeated: "I got a call from Ditz." She was silent the rest of the ride, and it took me a while before I remembered that this woman was usually more animated: Ditsy really. I checked the numbers after she got out. It was her. OMG, how bad should I feel?
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
I must confess: I've never been on an acid trip.
But some of my favorite passengers have!.........Not in the cab to my knowledge.
I picked up a bunch of my regulars from Hamburger Pattie's to take them home. This late 20s to maybe a couple of 30s bunch is usually pretty animated by the end of their evening, as they were when they loaded up into the van Saturday night. I'd been all over town with my 60s on 6 playing on the satellite radio most of the night........loud. It was a beautiful night: Warm, light breeze: So psychedelic.
The only guy in the bunch commented that the music sounded like an acid trip: And it was on: She described how the one and only trip she ever took happened when she was 14 years old. She felt so awful, she went home and told her mom she was sick. Her mom thought she looked pretty sick too; made her some chicken noodle soup. But she couldn't eat the soup, because the noodles were yelling at her.
Well ya know; I've heard that acid is like that: A guy I dated one summer was known as "The Pharmacist". He sampled his wares regularly. Told me the worst trip he'd had wasn't all that bad. He was amused by the little green gremlins crawling all over him. Just laid back and watched to see what they'd do. I wasn't sure I believed him: Sounded like all the other acid stories I'd heard. I believe my regular from Saturday night though. But I think it's weird that a drug could pretty much put you in Toon Town. All the trips I have ever heard about sound like cartoons. Maybe everyone who has ever had one was raised in front of the TV.
Mr. Pharmacist convinced me to sample some mushrooms once: "They're natural", he explained. I did take a little. And nothing happened. I actually forgot I took any: Until a few weeks later, when he offered them up again, and I thought: Well why not: They're natural, and they don't have any affect on me. We were at the home of a couple I met just that night, for spaghetti dinner before a New Rider's concert at the Palms. I put the mushrooms in my spaghetti. They all watched me as I ate the spaghetti. I felt fine: Until I stood up. I was so nauseated, I thought I was going to die. Mr. Pharm assured me I would be OK, and that he would stay by me till it was over. I was still nauseated when we all piled into the host couple's compact car. But, it faded away, and I thought I was fine as I tried to get out in a field of dried grass and weeds at the Palms. My arms and legs seemed to take off without me. I was walking just fine, but going real slow, because I wasn't sure my legs were attached. I didn't know where my feet would land, because I didn't know how long my legs were. They seemed to be about 6 feet long, and it made me very uncoordinated. We made it almost to the big barn doors, when Pharm let me sit down in the weeds. I was OK with that. Then the 3 all went inside without me: Wow. I don't know how long I sat there. Pharm came back out, and led me in. Host couple were sitting in front of us. The show was amazing. The lead guitarist was jumping up in the air several feet. He did that for most of the show. I was scanning the crowd, and watching the guitarist jump. Everyone in the crowd was happy. They were all smiling: Everybody. Ms. Hostess turned around and looked at me. I looked at her. She said: "You don't have to be so hostile!". I looked at her. She seemed so hostile. I looked back at the jumping guitarist, and wondered if my ride back was in jeopardy. It seemed like the concert didn't last very long. I was happy that all of those people in the audience were so happy. Shiny happy people holding hands! My legs worked better on the way back to the car, but I was silent the whole rest of the night, because I didn't want anyone to think I was hostile.
Pharm and I went on our way on foot once we got back to Host couple's lovely Davis home. Pharm lived in a 3 bedroom house with 4 other people. I'd heard that this stuff makes sex a mind blowing experience. Maybe it does. Most of the sex I'd had most of my life before that night was better, even with him.
He had something to do the next day early. I had paid the sitter to watch my boys the whole weekend, but I decided I needed to get them early. I caught a bus to West Sac, and then another to Natomas. Then I drove to the sitter's to collect the boys.
Decided then I'd tried all the mind altering stuff I ever wanted to. Decided not to be available when Mr. Pharm came a callin too.
I picked up a bunch of my regulars from Hamburger Pattie's to take them home. This late 20s to maybe a couple of 30s bunch is usually pretty animated by the end of their evening, as they were when they loaded up into the van Saturday night. I'd been all over town with my 60s on 6 playing on the satellite radio most of the night........loud. It was a beautiful night: Warm, light breeze: So psychedelic.
The only guy in the bunch commented that the music sounded like an acid trip: And it was on: She described how the one and only trip she ever took happened when she was 14 years old. She felt so awful, she went home and told her mom she was sick. Her mom thought she looked pretty sick too; made her some chicken noodle soup. But she couldn't eat the soup, because the noodles were yelling at her.
Well ya know; I've heard that acid is like that: A guy I dated one summer was known as "The Pharmacist". He sampled his wares regularly. Told me the worst trip he'd had wasn't all that bad. He was amused by the little green gremlins crawling all over him. Just laid back and watched to see what they'd do. I wasn't sure I believed him: Sounded like all the other acid stories I'd heard. I believe my regular from Saturday night though. But I think it's weird that a drug could pretty much put you in Toon Town. All the trips I have ever heard about sound like cartoons. Maybe everyone who has ever had one was raised in front of the TV.
Mr. Pharmacist convinced me to sample some mushrooms once: "They're natural", he explained. I did take a little. And nothing happened. I actually forgot I took any: Until a few weeks later, when he offered them up again, and I thought: Well why not: They're natural, and they don't have any affect on me. We were at the home of a couple I met just that night, for spaghetti dinner before a New Rider's concert at the Palms. I put the mushrooms in my spaghetti. They all watched me as I ate the spaghetti. I felt fine: Until I stood up. I was so nauseated, I thought I was going to die. Mr. Pharm assured me I would be OK, and that he would stay by me till it was over. I was still nauseated when we all piled into the host couple's compact car. But, it faded away, and I thought I was fine as I tried to get out in a field of dried grass and weeds at the Palms. My arms and legs seemed to take off without me. I was walking just fine, but going real slow, because I wasn't sure my legs were attached. I didn't know where my feet would land, because I didn't know how long my legs were. They seemed to be about 6 feet long, and it made me very uncoordinated. We made it almost to the big barn doors, when Pharm let me sit down in the weeds. I was OK with that. Then the 3 all went inside without me: Wow. I don't know how long I sat there. Pharm came back out, and led me in. Host couple were sitting in front of us. The show was amazing. The lead guitarist was jumping up in the air several feet. He did that for most of the show. I was scanning the crowd, and watching the guitarist jump. Everyone in the crowd was happy. They were all smiling: Everybody. Ms. Hostess turned around and looked at me. I looked at her. She said: "You don't have to be so hostile!". I looked at her. She seemed so hostile. I looked back at the jumping guitarist, and wondered if my ride back was in jeopardy. It seemed like the concert didn't last very long. I was happy that all of those people in the audience were so happy. Shiny happy people holding hands! My legs worked better on the way back to the car, but I was silent the whole rest of the night, because I didn't want anyone to think I was hostile.
Pharm and I went on our way on foot once we got back to Host couple's lovely Davis home. Pharm lived in a 3 bedroom house with 4 other people. I'd heard that this stuff makes sex a mind blowing experience. Maybe it does. Most of the sex I'd had most of my life before that night was better, even with him.
He had something to do the next day early. I had paid the sitter to watch my boys the whole weekend, but I decided I needed to get them early. I caught a bus to West Sac, and then another to Natomas. Then I drove to the sitter's to collect the boys.
Decided then I'd tried all the mind altering stuff I ever wanted to. Decided not to be available when Mr. Pharm came a callin too.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
The old switcheroo:
This was not as bad as what the rag tag bunch on the taxi stand at Amtrack does, but it sure was irritating. I cruise by the Tu-Me every shift after midnight, in a big circle that covers the Limelight, Raven, Bon-Lair, Tu-Me, Chargin's, Clubhouse 56, Socal's, Hilltop, and Cheater's. If there is already a cab parked at any one of those places, I keep going.
The Amtrack guys all line up, and stay there for hours at a time, waiting for trains and buses. One guy will start directing traffic, as if we can't see who's first, second, etc.
I drove up to Amtrack one night to find no one there, but 3 minutes later they were arriving en mass, surprised to see me, and that I was first. A train soon arrived, and all those drivers were at the end of the tunnel where the passengers come out.....directing traffic. The big boss asked each passenger their destination, and directed each to a taxi, careful to send the one who was going to the Vagabond around the corner to me. I don't like to argue around tired travellers. I took the lady to the Vagabond.
So the night I noticed a Yellow behind me as I headed past The hospital toward the Club Tu-Me, I didn't think much of it. Maybe it was Taxi Dave. He wouldn't race me to it. He would pull up 2nd in line, blaring his radio to attract party types away from me, or any other cab. But at a red light, here's the cab next to me. It's not Dave. He tells me out his window: "We have 3 taxi call at Tu-Me". "Really?", say I. "Tu-Me calls Co-Op". He jumps the light and speeds up into the right lane in front of me. There's another red light ahead. He has to stop, and I zoom past him as I see the yellow on 47th half a block away. I pull up in front of Tu-Me just a second before he does. He jumped out of his cab and ran in the bar. Three people were right behind the door, and explain that they are going in two different directions, to McKinley, about a mile away, and to Arden Park, a 25 dollar ride. He directs the locals to me, and I object . One guy seemed to be in charge, and in fact paid for me to take another fellow to Arden Park after I explained that I was first in line, and didn't appreciate the guy behind me directing my business. They understood. I always get the classier people out of that place.
Well I don't know what Mr. Yellow thought of the whole thing: But I notice that the rag tag bunch who monopolise the downtown stands get pretty bent out of shape when I pull up in the right lane, next to the first in line, and pick up anyone who recognises me. Hey! They want to ride with TaxiLorraine, they can ride with TaxiLorraine. Those guys want to sit for hours as their method, I use my reputation, Taxi Dave uses his music. Let the market decide.
News travels fast. After the Tu-Me thing happened, I cruised the western part of J. Street. There was a lot of jockeying for position at the stand a block before the Sheraton. The valets at the Sheraton blow a whistle to summon the first in line a half a block before the door in front. Sometimes I have a customer call me from there, so I just pull up to get them. And sometimes a regular person just flags me down as I drive by. So I drive by often. So here I come in the right lane between 11th and 12th, when I see the guys lined up along Sheraton stand looking at me with alarm. One is standing to the left of the first cab in line. The light is red, and I'm slowing down. The light is green now! The first cab is pulled out slightly, but stops. They all look like bunnies looking at headlights. I'm 3 cabs away, and Mr. Director waves his hand at Mr. First and yells: "Go Mousa! Go!". Mousa looks so young and timid. I slowed down. He went. I went around the corner. Sometimes there is someone flagging at Ella, or Ghallager's. Sheraton had blown their taxi stand whistle anyway, and the valet would have held onto the passenger until Mr. First got there.
Now every time I drive by a stand downtown, They all look at me. They keep looking until I'm gone. One of these nights I should wear devil horns and draw pointy eyebrows on.
The Amtrack guys all line up, and stay there for hours at a time, waiting for trains and buses. One guy will start directing traffic, as if we can't see who's first, second, etc.
I drove up to Amtrack one night to find no one there, but 3 minutes later they were arriving en mass, surprised to see me, and that I was first. A train soon arrived, and all those drivers were at the end of the tunnel where the passengers come out.....directing traffic. The big boss asked each passenger their destination, and directed each to a taxi, careful to send the one who was going to the Vagabond around the corner to me. I don't like to argue around tired travellers. I took the lady to the Vagabond.
So the night I noticed a Yellow behind me as I headed past The hospital toward the Club Tu-Me, I didn't think much of it. Maybe it was Taxi Dave. He wouldn't race me to it. He would pull up 2nd in line, blaring his radio to attract party types away from me, or any other cab. But at a red light, here's the cab next to me. It's not Dave. He tells me out his window: "We have 3 taxi call at Tu-Me". "Really?", say I. "Tu-Me calls Co-Op". He jumps the light and speeds up into the right lane in front of me. There's another red light ahead. He has to stop, and I zoom past him as I see the yellow on 47th half a block away. I pull up in front of Tu-Me just a second before he does. He jumped out of his cab and ran in the bar. Three people were right behind the door, and explain that they are going in two different directions, to McKinley, about a mile away, and to Arden Park, a 25 dollar ride. He directs the locals to me, and I object . One guy seemed to be in charge, and in fact paid for me to take another fellow to Arden Park after I explained that I was first in line, and didn't appreciate the guy behind me directing my business. They understood. I always get the classier people out of that place.
Well I don't know what Mr. Yellow thought of the whole thing: But I notice that the rag tag bunch who monopolise the downtown stands get pretty bent out of shape when I pull up in the right lane, next to the first in line, and pick up anyone who recognises me. Hey! They want to ride with TaxiLorraine, they can ride with TaxiLorraine. Those guys want to sit for hours as their method, I use my reputation, Taxi Dave uses his music. Let the market decide.
News travels fast. After the Tu-Me thing happened, I cruised the western part of J. Street. There was a lot of jockeying for position at the stand a block before the Sheraton. The valets at the Sheraton blow a whistle to summon the first in line a half a block before the door in front. Sometimes I have a customer call me from there, so I just pull up to get them. And sometimes a regular person just flags me down as I drive by. So I drive by often. So here I come in the right lane between 11th and 12th, when I see the guys lined up along Sheraton stand looking at me with alarm. One is standing to the left of the first cab in line. The light is red, and I'm slowing down. The light is green now! The first cab is pulled out slightly, but stops. They all look like bunnies looking at headlights. I'm 3 cabs away, and Mr. Director waves his hand at Mr. First and yells: "Go Mousa! Go!". Mousa looks so young and timid. I slowed down. He went. I went around the corner. Sometimes there is someone flagging at Ella, or Ghallager's. Sheraton had blown their taxi stand whistle anyway, and the valet would have held onto the passenger until Mr. First got there.
Now every time I drive by a stand downtown, They all look at me. They keep looking until I'm gone. One of these nights I should wear devil horns and draw pointy eyebrows on.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
What kind of person tries to prove he's better than a cab driver?
Well I try not to set them off, because it's irritating as hell to be told every turn to take 'after' the ride has told me where they want to go, and I've confirmed it: "Let's go to R and 17th". I'm puzzled, as that place is all train tracks, asphalt, and winos. "Uh. What bar are you going to?" "Hanger 17". "Ok, Hanger 17, at 17 and S". "Ya; turn here. Now go all the way to S. and I'll show you". "Ok".
I really do appreciate it when a drunk passenger is able to tell me, turn by turn, how to get to his house. I have to drive to the nearest corner after I drop him off, to look myself up in the Thomas Guide, but everyone knows where he lives.
There are a couple dozen Marriott Hotels in and around Sacramento. A very serious looking 40ish couple I got out of the Raven, wanted to go to the one on Gateway Oaks, in South Natomas. There is one there, and another on what seems to be the same street, just a block up the road, and a Hilton Garden in between.
Mr. Serious wants to stop at a small store or gas station on the way. I figure the closer the better. There is a 24 hour Safeway in the same block as The Raven. No.......He wants a little store. It's after midnight. I explain that all that's open are a few gas stations, with their doors locked, and security windows for purchases, Went 7 blocks to P Street where there is a well stocked mini mart at the 76 Station, Could have gone 1 block to Chevron first, but this guy was so intense, I just wanted for him to be able to get whatever he wanted so I could get him and his silent wife to their destination quickly. He seemed to be looking to find fault with me. Well they didn't have what he wanted. So we stopped at Chevron on the way to I Street. They had it. He got it. It was in a little bag. On to I-5 and up to Garden Highway. He told me I should know all the stores, etc, because I'm a cab driver. Cab driver's are supposed to know everything. I know we didn't pass any more open stores on the way to Gateway Oaks. Each criticism he offered was followed by a week, "ya" from wifey. I'm on Gateway....and there is a hotel to the right, up a little access road. I slow down, and ask: "This one"? He says nothing. He has his arms folded over his chest. On to the next one. He says his is the Courtyard. I think we just passed it, but he didn't say anything when we did. And there is another Marriott up the street. But although I don't know for a fact it's the Residence Inn, I think it is. I pull into the Hilton Garden, seeing only the "Garden" part. Sometimes people are confused about which hotel they are in, till they see it. So I asked him if this was his hotel, and he says: "Let's just put a stop to this right now"! I stopped, turned around, and asked him whatever he meant. There was almost 25 on the meter. He informed me that I had driven right past his hotel. Wifey managed a slightly louder: "ya". I asked him why he let me drive right on by, when he knew all along that was the one. Wifey utters: "Noooo"! I just drove them over to the Courtyard, and told them I only wanted 20. I guess they wanted to prove they were smarter than a cab driver.
I know when I'm in the presence of someone smarter than I am. They don't have to tell me. And so far, none of them has. copyright 2011
I really do appreciate it when a drunk passenger is able to tell me, turn by turn, how to get to his house. I have to drive to the nearest corner after I drop him off, to look myself up in the Thomas Guide, but everyone knows where he lives.
There are a couple dozen Marriott Hotels in and around Sacramento. A very serious looking 40ish couple I got out of the Raven, wanted to go to the one on Gateway Oaks, in South Natomas. There is one there, and another on what seems to be the same street, just a block up the road, and a Hilton Garden in between.
Mr. Serious wants to stop at a small store or gas station on the way. I figure the closer the better. There is a 24 hour Safeway in the same block as The Raven. No.......He wants a little store. It's after midnight. I explain that all that's open are a few gas stations, with their doors locked, and security windows for purchases, Went 7 blocks to P Street where there is a well stocked mini mart at the 76 Station, Could have gone 1 block to Chevron first, but this guy was so intense, I just wanted for him to be able to get whatever he wanted so I could get him and his silent wife to their destination quickly. He seemed to be looking to find fault with me. Well they didn't have what he wanted. So we stopped at Chevron on the way to I Street. They had it. He got it. It was in a little bag. On to I-5 and up to Garden Highway. He told me I should know all the stores, etc, because I'm a cab driver. Cab driver's are supposed to know everything. I know we didn't pass any more open stores on the way to Gateway Oaks. Each criticism he offered was followed by a week, "ya" from wifey. I'm on Gateway....and there is a hotel to the right, up a little access road. I slow down, and ask: "This one"? He says nothing. He has his arms folded over his chest. On to the next one. He says his is the Courtyard. I think we just passed it, but he didn't say anything when we did. And there is another Marriott up the street. But although I don't know for a fact it's the Residence Inn, I think it is. I pull into the Hilton Garden, seeing only the "Garden" part. Sometimes people are confused about which hotel they are in, till they see it. So I asked him if this was his hotel, and he says: "Let's just put a stop to this right now"! I stopped, turned around, and asked him whatever he meant. There was almost 25 on the meter. He informed me that I had driven right past his hotel. Wifey managed a slightly louder: "ya". I asked him why he let me drive right on by, when he knew all along that was the one. Wifey utters: "Noooo"! I just drove them over to the Courtyard, and told them I only wanted 20. I guess they wanted to prove they were smarter than a cab driver.
I know when I'm in the presence of someone smarter than I am. They don't have to tell me. And so far, none of them has. copyright 2011
Monday, February 28, 2011
The town gets a mood
The town gets a mood, and the sooner I pick it up, the better. I guess the young curly haired Yellow driver hadn't figured it out yet. 3 Asian chicks flagged me down in front of Mikuni at about 11pm. They were chatting about how Yellow had taken too long. I guess thier driver was right behind me. He was so worked up about it, he blocked the right lane, so I couldn't get onto J. Street. I pulled up next to him in the middle lane, and waited for him to turn or go straight. He just sat there blocking me, and said: "You can't turn from that lane, bitch". I said right back: "I know, bitch". He drove straight up 16th, and the car behind him waited to let me make my turn in front of him. Saved my passengers two blocks of fare. Thank you, midsized white sedan.
Well: About half of my radio dispatched resturaunt and bar calls are not there when I get there. Mr. Curly hair needs a chill pill. People are all excited and in a hurry to get from one bar to another on Friday nights. It's all very neat and orderly untill about 11ish, and then it's every cab for himself.
So after the fickle females get out at Level Up, I get flagged by several fly boys in glistenning garb. They look like a military boy band: Each one has a different colored sequined suit. They go to the Park. They are old enough to be military pilots. Got thier suits custom made in Korea. Thier lovely ladies explained it all to me while they waited at Golden One. I'm sure they had lot's of fun at the Park.
Oh gosh! Eric called, and I'm actually relatively near. I still had to take about 20 minutes to let off Micky and her girl, while Eric texted twice, "Hurry Darling! I'm falling asleep". Guess he was tired. He fell off the fold down seat, and had to climb back up, red faced, while everyone wondered what I had run over. And Chad was so pretty! His dark features are adorable anyway, but his lashes were so noticeable Saturday night.
Oh I love hungry people! Couple wants to go from 26th and J, to 25th and L. But it's not raining.....Oh: They want to go to Del-Taco first. Makes it all worthwhile. And Del-Taco at Alhambra and K is open 24 hours, so I got to use the can while they went in and ordered food. A win win during bar rush.
Sacramento is usually not a place where you can let people out of your cab, and have others waiting to get in right there, but it's happening more often now. Right there at 25th and L, I let the fast food couple out, and another couple in. They just went to the 6 at 30th and N, but my dispatcher had been trying to get someone to go get a flag there, and bingo! got another load. Made 20 on that one, but it turned out to be a drug run. I would turn down drug runs if I knew in advance that it was what it was, but then, how could I know, unless I'd driven that person before? On the semi rare occassions when I get along well with the druggie, they ask for my card. I give em my card. And when they call, I make an excuse, and program that number into my phone as: "I don't think so". So these two go to another motel, run upstairs, and I'm left wondering if it's drugs or prostitution. It only takes a minute and a half, and I know the tricks are often quick, but this was way too quick for that. So off to another location, where they run into a dark house, two houses up from where they had me park, and the guy comes back to tell me to keep the 20 he already gave me, as they are staying here. "Okeedokee", thinks I.
I picked up a nice young narcotics officer Saturday night. He told me I should radio in to my dispatcher to call the cops when I'm waiting for a passenger outside a drug house. I think he doesn't know how little time these people spend inside the "place". I'd still be explaining to my dispatcher when they were on thier way out. Most of them are paranoid as it is. I suppose I could report it after the fact, but I am actually trying to make as much money as possible in the time I have during my shift. I should'a got his cell number.
Well: About half of my radio dispatched resturaunt and bar calls are not there when I get there. Mr. Curly hair needs a chill pill. People are all excited and in a hurry to get from one bar to another on Friday nights. It's all very neat and orderly untill about 11ish, and then it's every cab for himself.
So after the fickle females get out at Level Up, I get flagged by several fly boys in glistenning garb. They look like a military boy band: Each one has a different colored sequined suit. They go to the Park. They are old enough to be military pilots. Got thier suits custom made in Korea. Thier lovely ladies explained it all to me while they waited at Golden One. I'm sure they had lot's of fun at the Park.
Oh gosh! Eric called, and I'm actually relatively near. I still had to take about 20 minutes to let off Micky and her girl, while Eric texted twice, "Hurry Darling! I'm falling asleep". Guess he was tired. He fell off the fold down seat, and had to climb back up, red faced, while everyone wondered what I had run over. And Chad was so pretty! His dark features are adorable anyway, but his lashes were so noticeable Saturday night.
Oh I love hungry people! Couple wants to go from 26th and J, to 25th and L. But it's not raining.....Oh: They want to go to Del-Taco first. Makes it all worthwhile. And Del-Taco at Alhambra and K is open 24 hours, so I got to use the can while they went in and ordered food. A win win during bar rush.
Sacramento is usually not a place where you can let people out of your cab, and have others waiting to get in right there, but it's happening more often now. Right there at 25th and L, I let the fast food couple out, and another couple in. They just went to the 6 at 30th and N, but my dispatcher had been trying to get someone to go get a flag there, and bingo! got another load. Made 20 on that one, but it turned out to be a drug run. I would turn down drug runs if I knew in advance that it was what it was, but then, how could I know, unless I'd driven that person before? On the semi rare occassions when I get along well with the druggie, they ask for my card. I give em my card. And when they call, I make an excuse, and program that number into my phone as: "I don't think so". So these two go to another motel, run upstairs, and I'm left wondering if it's drugs or prostitution. It only takes a minute and a half, and I know the tricks are often quick, but this was way too quick for that. So off to another location, where they run into a dark house, two houses up from where they had me park, and the guy comes back to tell me to keep the 20 he already gave me, as they are staying here. "Okeedokee", thinks I.
I picked up a nice young narcotics officer Saturday night. He told me I should radio in to my dispatcher to call the cops when I'm waiting for a passenger outside a drug house. I think he doesn't know how little time these people spend inside the "place". I'd still be explaining to my dispatcher when they were on thier way out. Most of them are paranoid as it is. I suppose I could report it after the fact, but I am actually trying to make as much money as possible in the time I have during my shift. I should'a got his cell number.
I am not the only female cab driver on the face of this earth!
At least once a shift, a passenger will tell me they have never seen a female cab driver before. I can only guess that person doesn't take cabs much. That observation only bothers me when guys get a suspiciouse manner and start questioning my motives. That doesn't happen often, but I get a little more alert when it does.
I began driveing a cab in 1987, when I was suddenly a solo parent. I had to support my guys. It turned out to be a rather good occupation for my situation. Cab drivers can take a break whenever, to do whatever. I could check on the kids at the sitter, at school, at home, whenever it occurred to me to do it. Or whenever I got a call to. People who punch a time clock don't have that luxery.
I left taxi driveing from 94 to 07. The boys are men now, and I can do whatever I want. I had considered myself a cab driver all those years I wasn't. So now I'm back in Sacramento, doing what I am.
I began driveing a cab in 1987, when I was suddenly a solo parent. I had to support my guys. It turned out to be a rather good occupation for my situation. Cab drivers can take a break whenever, to do whatever. I could check on the kids at the sitter, at school, at home, whenever it occurred to me to do it. Or whenever I got a call to. People who punch a time clock don't have that luxery.
I left taxi driveing from 94 to 07. The boys are men now, and I can do whatever I want. I had considered myself a cab driver all those years I wasn't. So now I'm back in Sacramento, doing what I am.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
OMG! Michelle!
Agh! It's 2am. It's so busy out here tonight, people are outside the just closed bars, trying to flag cabs, or still trying for the last minute hookup.
I'm tired. I really did make enough money to just go home right now.
Oh there's one at Charmer's! "Hey just a minute, OK?", says a guy talking to two women. "OK". I sit there in my car while a dyke fiddles with the lock on a bike chained to a pole. It looks like the guy and girls all know each other. The dyke is looking right at me. OK, I've seen her before. She has her salt and pepper hair in a low tail; not making a lot of progress with the bike. I give her the eyebrow raise. I think I took her and some drunk chick home once.
I start to edge away, because no one is paying attention. "No. Hey wait, I just need to find out where these girls are going. Thanks." "Hey how much would it cost to take these girls to Elk Grove?" "Where in Elk Grove?" "Sheldon." "I'll do it for 40 flat." I just want to get this last one, and go home.
They all pile in; girl in front, guy and smaller girl in back. Now they want to go to West Sac. I flip on the meter. "I thought you lived in Auburn!" "I do: I'm staying with someone in West Sac. I don't want to drive all the way to Auburn tonight." "Well, we have to go home tonight." "I know. I need to get home first. I already paid the cab driver to take you home, as soon as she drops me off." "k."
It gets so very quiet. I have the radio on, but barely audible.
I'm hearing fabric moving over the seats. Little tiny giggles. I flip my mirror up. I don't want to see something that will make me grin. They can see me grin from the back, if they look up into my mirror.
I'm driving over surface streets, stopping at it seems like every light there is from here to there. The girl in front says a few words to her friend, and gets no response. She won't look back, just sort of turns her head a little, and stops. She looks at me..... And I'm not gonna look. She finally asks: "Michelle?, Are you OK?" No answer. She asks again. Michelle says she's fine, but front chick won't look back.
We get over the I Street Bridge, and front chick slowly turns her head to the back. "Oh my god! Michelle!". Then she turns her face forward again, and repeats it. No sound at all from the back, till I get to an intersection, and the guy starts to give me detailed directions.
So we go through a coded gate, with the girls totally silent, and the guy leading me up onto a levee, with huge newer houses on one side. We go all the way to the end of the row of houses, and guy tells me to turn around and park in front. There's a motorcycle in front of the garage. I guess that's what he didn't want to drive to Auburn. Suddenly front girl yells: "Oh my god Michelle! He's married!" Guy says he isn't, and Michelle says nothing, till she comes up with: "We have to go home! How are we going to get home? I don't even know where we are!" I had to tell her her ride to Elk Grove was paid for. So they both jump in the back seat, and tell me to get them out of there, and to find them a place to pee. I said I would find them a gas station, but they want to stop right now. So I did, A house and a half from Auburn guy. They both got out and squatted right next to the right back door, Their skirts were short enough they didn't even need to move them up. Auburn guy comes running back exclaiming that he'd never seen a woman pee before. I'm skeptical. He looks about 30. They finish peeing, and I hand the guy my container of baby wipes. They did have to pull the skirts back down once they were done.
I made a mental note not to forget the Lysol dousing at shift's end. And a good vacuuming too.
Wondering if I should be surprised they talked about their latest stalkers all the way to Elk Grove.
And I shouldn't have been surprised the dispatcher had a deep south for me once I told him I'd cleared in Elk Grove. Someone needed a ride home from the hospital. No drama............They're mellow when they're medicated.
copyright 2011
I'm tired. I really did make enough money to just go home right now.
Oh there's one at Charmer's! "Hey just a minute, OK?", says a guy talking to two women. "OK". I sit there in my car while a dyke fiddles with the lock on a bike chained to a pole. It looks like the guy and girls all know each other. The dyke is looking right at me. OK, I've seen her before. She has her salt and pepper hair in a low tail; not making a lot of progress with the bike. I give her the eyebrow raise. I think I took her and some drunk chick home once.
I start to edge away, because no one is paying attention. "No. Hey wait, I just need to find out where these girls are going. Thanks." "Hey how much would it cost to take these girls to Elk Grove?" "Where in Elk Grove?" "Sheldon." "I'll do it for 40 flat." I just want to get this last one, and go home.
They all pile in; girl in front, guy and smaller girl in back. Now they want to go to West Sac. I flip on the meter. "I thought you lived in Auburn!" "I do: I'm staying with someone in West Sac. I don't want to drive all the way to Auburn tonight." "Well, we have to go home tonight." "I know. I need to get home first. I already paid the cab driver to take you home, as soon as she drops me off." "k."
It gets so very quiet. I have the radio on, but barely audible.
I'm hearing fabric moving over the seats. Little tiny giggles. I flip my mirror up. I don't want to see something that will make me grin. They can see me grin from the back, if they look up into my mirror.
I'm driving over surface streets, stopping at it seems like every light there is from here to there. The girl in front says a few words to her friend, and gets no response. She won't look back, just sort of turns her head a little, and stops. She looks at me..... And I'm not gonna look. She finally asks: "Michelle?, Are you OK?" No answer. She asks again. Michelle says she's fine, but front chick won't look back.
We get over the I Street Bridge, and front chick slowly turns her head to the back. "Oh my god! Michelle!". Then she turns her face forward again, and repeats it. No sound at all from the back, till I get to an intersection, and the guy starts to give me detailed directions.
So we go through a coded gate, with the girls totally silent, and the guy leading me up onto a levee, with huge newer houses on one side. We go all the way to the end of the row of houses, and guy tells me to turn around and park in front. There's a motorcycle in front of the garage. I guess that's what he didn't want to drive to Auburn. Suddenly front girl yells: "Oh my god Michelle! He's married!" Guy says he isn't, and Michelle says nothing, till she comes up with: "We have to go home! How are we going to get home? I don't even know where we are!" I had to tell her her ride to Elk Grove was paid for. So they both jump in the back seat, and tell me to get them out of there, and to find them a place to pee. I said I would find them a gas station, but they want to stop right now. So I did, A house and a half from Auburn guy. They both got out and squatted right next to the right back door, Their skirts were short enough they didn't even need to move them up. Auburn guy comes running back exclaiming that he'd never seen a woman pee before. I'm skeptical. He looks about 30. They finish peeing, and I hand the guy my container of baby wipes. They did have to pull the skirts back down once they were done.
I made a mental note not to forget the Lysol dousing at shift's end. And a good vacuuming too.
Wondering if I should be surprised they talked about their latest stalkers all the way to Elk Grove.
And I shouldn't have been surprised the dispatcher had a deep south for me once I told him I'd cleared in Elk Grove. Someone needed a ride home from the hospital. No drama............They're mellow when they're medicated.
copyright 2011
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