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.

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.