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.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
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.
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