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.
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