In the weeks before my fourth anniversary as a cab driver,
I finally got my first demand to FOLLOW THAT CAB!
Friday, December 05, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Wanted: Scooby Doo Mystery Inc. Clue-puter
Tonight some kid with luggage was waiting outside the bus depot. He said his bus didn't come for six hours so instead he wanted to go to capital city but only had about half the cab fare. I'd been quite profitable so I agreed to get the guy at that price.
In a bit of a power play on my part, I was going to detour him downtown to pay my electric. I mentioned this to the kid and he kind of freaked and said I could pay the bill and come back. The driver that originally talked to him pulled in and I explained I was going to pay a bill and return. Five minutes later, I did and the kid was gone. The driver said he took off walking.
I should add, when I pulled up, he brought his luggage right to the back of the cab. It was only when I mentioned the detour, that he backed off on it, and apparently had no intention on going to capital city in a cab.
I cannot figure out what was really going on.
Here are my ideas;
In a bit of a power play on my part, I was going to detour him downtown to pay my electric. I mentioned this to the kid and he kind of freaked and said I could pay the bill and come back. The driver that originally talked to him pulled in and I explained I was going to pay a bill and return. Five minutes later, I did and the kid was gone. The driver said he took off walking.
I should add, when I pulled up, he brought his luggage right to the back of the cab. It was only when I mentioned the detour, that he backed off on it, and apparently had no intention on going to capital city in a cab.
I cannot figure out what was really going on.
Here are my ideas;
- He had bus fare to capital city, and thats what he would pay for a cab. About half fare.
- He did not trust me, and was too nervous to get in my cab.
- He did not want to go downtown because there may have been police there.
- He was planning on robbing me, and changed his mind, once I mentioned I had to pay my electric, I was humanized.
Monday, November 03, 2008
St. Kitts
I sometimes wonder about the power of saints. I started driving about 4 years ago, and had a St. Christopher Medallion in my cab from a very early date. Periodically I would switch cabs, and it would not make the switch right away. I have had a Jesus on my dashboard recently, and I have found it keeps me nice. What I mean is, it is always within the corner of my eye, and it reminds me to be a nice guy.
This past weekend, I replaced my St. Christopher / Our lady of the High ways, visor clip and it took me a while to realize it but it was like I has a lic to print money. Granted it was Halloween weekend, and I am pretty sure I put it up on All Saints Day, and even lamented Christopher's Catholic demotion from the universal calender. see below 1
I know it was a coincidence. But after a terrifically busy Halloween night, Saturday was rather sleepy. I slept all day, for the most part, and got to work around 11:45 pm. I had a few passengers, but nothing major. I went home relatively early, happy with the knowledge that I had been so profitable the night before.
One of my co-workers was not feeling up to a call from a hotel to the airport at 5:30, and at about 3:45 asked if I'd take it for him. I agreed, and although I was home already, I went back out with plenty of time to spare. While waiting, I fixed the long-broken window handle in my van. It had not worked for quite a while according tot he person I bought the van from. It just so happens it was the guy t hat I was covering for. The party came out, and I drove them tothe airport. They all asked for receipts, and I had to fumble around looking for them, as that does not come up for me often.
Once I came out with my hand-written receipts a woman approached me and asked if I could take her to a town 35 miles away. She was pretty unhappy about something, I could tell. She asked if I took debit, but did not, and referred her to some that most likely did. But I offered the ATM option. I think it was my willingness to compromise that kept her with me. Another way I deal with that is to let them purchase fuel for me.
Once we were on her way, I gleaned bits of her story. She was at the terminal with luggage. I assumed she had arrived. She was traveling to her future in-laws house. But as the story progressed, it became clear, the obvious was not so. Her story was, as she put it "wack". and clearly she did not want to go through the details with me. But what had happened was; she ended up at the airport with luggage two days early. Her ticket for the following day was with her ID in the town 35 miles away. It was 5:45 and she was concerned that she would even be able to wake the mother.
On the way to the atm, I had enough questions in my mind, that I asked her to confirm making this trip was her best option, and she assured me the man's mom would understand. And that this was her only option. I did not want to pry, I explained that sometimes while upset, people do not always come up with alternatives, and I wanted to put them out there in case that was so. But she assured me this was best. This is another reason, I am glad she went with me. I do not think other drivers may have been so patient with all the uncertainty in the situation.
We went on our way. She had previously attempted to sleep in the smoking lounge at the airport, but was welcome to lay down in the back seat. I had a comfortable and almost scenic drive through the palisades of the Kentucky River. By the time we got to the town, she gave me rather vague landmarks to find the condo in question. She did not have the exact street address. Not being from the town, the landmarks were not all that meaningful. But without much trouble we found the place. She paid me $86 and asked I wait to make sure she got in. Actually, I would have balanced the luggage on my head on the way in.
I drove back, $86 dollars richer, in addition to the $22 I got from the hotel run. All earned by me after I went in for the night, content in my revenue for the weekend.
I put the St. Christopher "Patron Saint of Cab Drivers" medallion on my visor on All Saints Day. This story happened the same day. I relay this to you. Draw your own conclusions.
Bonus Halloween story.
This past weekend, I replaced my St. Christopher / Our lady of the High ways, visor clip and it took me a while to realize it but it was like I has a lic to print money. Granted it was Halloween weekend, and I am pretty sure I put it up on All Saints Day, and even lamented Christopher's Catholic demotion from the universal calender. see below 1
I know it was a coincidence. But after a terrifically busy Halloween night, Saturday was rather sleepy. I slept all day, for the most part, and got to work around 11:45 pm. I had a few passengers, but nothing major. I went home relatively early, happy with the knowledge that I had been so profitable the night before.
One of my co-workers was not feeling up to a call from a hotel to the airport at 5:30, and at about 3:45 asked if I'd take it for him. I agreed, and although I was home already, I went back out with plenty of time to spare. While waiting, I fixed the long-broken window handle in my van. It had not worked for quite a while according tot he person I bought the van from. It just so happens it was the guy t hat I was covering for. The party came out, and I drove them tothe airport. They all asked for receipts, and I had to fumble around looking for them, as that does not come up for me often.
Once I came out with my hand-written receipts a woman approached me and asked if I could take her to a town 35 miles away. She was pretty unhappy about something, I could tell. She asked if I took debit, but did not, and referred her to some that most likely did. But I offered the ATM option. I think it was my willingness to compromise that kept her with me. Another way I deal with that is to let them purchase fuel for me.
Once we were on her way, I gleaned bits of her story. She was at the terminal with luggage. I assumed she had arrived. She was traveling to her future in-laws house. But as the story progressed, it became clear, the obvious was not so. Her story was, as she put it "wack". and clearly she did not want to go through the details with me. But what had happened was; she ended up at the airport with luggage two days early. Her ticket for the following day was with her ID in the town 35 miles away. It was 5:45 and she was concerned that she would even be able to wake the mother.
On the way to the atm, I had enough questions in my mind, that I asked her to confirm making this trip was her best option, and she assured me the man's mom would understand. And that this was her only option. I did not want to pry, I explained that sometimes while upset, people do not always come up with alternatives, and I wanted to put them out there in case that was so. But she assured me this was best. This is another reason, I am glad she went with me. I do not think other drivers may have been so patient with all the uncertainty in the situation.
We went on our way. She had previously attempted to sleep in the smoking lounge at the airport, but was welcome to lay down in the back seat. I had a comfortable and almost scenic drive through the palisades of the Kentucky River. By the time we got to the town, she gave me rather vague landmarks to find the condo in question. She did not have the exact street address. Not being from the town, the landmarks were not all that meaningful. But without much trouble we found the place. She paid me $86 and asked I wait to make sure she got in. Actually, I would have balanced the luggage on my head on the way in.
I drove back, $86 dollars richer, in addition to the $22 I got from the hotel run. All earned by me after I went in for the night, content in my revenue for the weekend.
I put the St. Christopher "Patron Saint of Cab Drivers" medallion on my visor on All Saints Day. This story happened the same day. I relay this to you. Draw your own conclusions.
Bonus Halloween story.
By the end of the night, I was exhausted, and one of my regulars that also lives 35 miles out of town, called me, and it was clear she was beyond common sense intoxicated. She told me where she was, but I was otherwise engaged and trying to clear up for her as best I could. She kept calling me back, and was giving me other bar names each time. I clarified, and she had not moved. Her mind was just merging a lot of bars into one. The last time I heard a man explain they were not the same thing. When I asked who she was with, she said just herself. Usually she splits the cab fare with two or three other girls that live on the same farm. That brings the fare down to about $20 a person. I cut them a break too. But usually there is one that is the most sober and I can look to them for direction. This girl was by herself. These farms have houses all over them, and I was unsure which house was hers. By the time we got to the farm, we got to her gate, and she did not have the control card. She confidently explained she would hop the fence as usual and be fine.
This was not acceptable to me. I wait until ladies get inside their homes before I drive away, and was not about to let an intoxicated woman, dressed like a playboy bunny, hop a fence and disappear into the inky blackness of Woodford County. We argued a bit, and I emphasized with her ability to accomplish her task, but explained, it was for me, as much as her. I couldn't feel good about myself, if I did not confirm she was home safe. I repeated, that I could not even see the house, she said was there. I did not fear for her safety. It was warm enough, the grass was soft enough, but I did not want her to fall asleep outside when I could prevent it. She relented. Also she did not have the full fare, but by then I had polished my shining armor and was ready to slay dragons for her.
Friday, September 05, 2008
Tattoo You, Tattoo Me, Da Plane Da Plane
I was for a while complete unaltered. Unmodified. Unadorned. [...] I had my tonsils, my appendix, no piercings, no tatoos, UC, and what not. I began to feel, I was kind of the anti-radical radical. Because of the vast numbers of tattooed and pierced individuals in my social group, I was clearly the outsider. Was I square?
I came real close to getting a below the waist piercing back with Bob Andrews has Retail Hell down the block from the Parsley Peapod. But closer inspection of the procedure proved to make me de-select that option. For a while I worked at the latter, and became quite familiar with body jewelry and the different options available. I find it aesthetically pleasing to look at on others. But I do not have a compelling need to add it to myself. Even external, non pierced jewelry is rare for me. I don’t even wear a watch. I’ll buy rings, only to take them off for a shower, and forget I ever owned them.
Holes close, but tattoos are much closer to forever. The thing I always said, was, I knew of no design I would want to be forced to live with the rest of my life. Yes, I know, they can be painfully removed now. But still.
Almost 5 years ago now, I underwent the knife. My breast bone was split open, my rib cage was spread apart, and my blood was pumped through an external pumping device, while doctors, grafted new arteries to my five clogged ones. I had a quintuple bypass. This left me with a 8 inch scar down the center of my chest. My chest hair parts like a boy’s on school picture day. But as scars go, it is quite smooth. In fact, I have heard scars referred to as angry. If that is the norm, mine is downright friendly. In fact a local artist, and well a newspaper columnist described it as sexy. When I wear deep V shirts, I will once in a while field the casual inquisitor about it. It is then, I realize I do not even realize it is there.
This reminds me of the previous caveat I had about a tattoo. I did not realize, I may forget it is there. Especially if it is not where I see it regularly.
My dad was in a horrific cycle accident when I was an infant, and split his chin and jaw open, leaving an angry scar. I stopped seeing it, and was puzzled when people asked me about it. Then I remembered.
Now, for a design, I would want something culturally relevant to me. I have considered the Chinese characters, native American lore, as well as the cartoon and tattoo standards out there, but wanted it to be personal.
For me that means Norse or Teutonic. Cool. I would not have to ape someone foreign culture for a cool design. But was I? I have several European friends. They get frustrated by our obsessive clinging to our ancestral homelands. “I am Irish!” or whatever. Which kind of turned me to what is quintessentially American, or Minnesotan.
I have also considered religious iconography. Since my heart surgery, I have began purchasing Sacred Heart stuff. But very recently I recalled something I remembered from a long ago trip to the Black Hills.
Two Aces, and Two Eights, all black. Wild Bill Hickock’s “Dead Man’s Hand”. It fits me for many reasons. While I am very much alive, many consider this life to be my second coming. Before my surgery, most of my friends considered my hospital to be my death bed.
Statistically, a person that survives 5 years after my surgery, survives another 20 or so. I am surviving my 5th year. March 2009, is my five year anniversary. I wonder how this tattoo idea would be like laughing at death.
Not sure. But here I have committed my thoughts to the written word.
I came real close to getting a below the waist piercing back with Bob Andrews has Retail Hell down the block from the Parsley Peapod. But closer inspection of the procedure proved to make me de-select that option. For a while I worked at the latter, and became quite familiar with body jewelry and the different options available. I find it aesthetically pleasing to look at on others. But I do not have a compelling need to add it to myself. Even external, non pierced jewelry is rare for me. I don’t even wear a watch. I’ll buy rings, only to take them off for a shower, and forget I ever owned them.
Holes close, but tattoos are much closer to forever. The thing I always said, was, I knew of no design I would want to be forced to live with the rest of my life. Yes, I know, they can be painfully removed now. But still.
Almost 5 years ago now, I underwent the knife. My breast bone was split open, my rib cage was spread apart, and my blood was pumped through an external pumping device, while doctors, grafted new arteries to my five clogged ones. I had a quintuple bypass. This left me with a 8 inch scar down the center of my chest. My chest hair parts like a boy’s on school picture day. But as scars go, it is quite smooth. In fact, I have heard scars referred to as angry. If that is the norm, mine is downright friendly. In fact a local artist, and well a newspaper columnist described it as sexy. When I wear deep V shirts, I will once in a while field the casual inquisitor about it. It is then, I realize I do not even realize it is there.
This reminds me of the previous caveat I had about a tattoo. I did not realize, I may forget it is there. Especially if it is not where I see it regularly.
My dad was in a horrific cycle accident when I was an infant, and split his chin and jaw open, leaving an angry scar. I stopped seeing it, and was puzzled when people asked me about it. Then I remembered.
Now, for a design, I would want something culturally relevant to me. I have considered the Chinese characters, native American lore, as well as the cartoon and tattoo standards out there, but wanted it to be personal.
For me that means Norse or Teutonic. Cool. I would not have to ape someone foreign culture for a cool design. But was I? I have several European friends. They get frustrated by our obsessive clinging to our ancestral homelands. “I am Irish!” or whatever. Which kind of turned me to what is quintessentially American, or Minnesotan.
I have also considered religious iconography. Since my heart surgery, I have began purchasing Sacred Heart stuff. But very recently I recalled something I remembered from a long ago trip to the Black Hills.
Two Aces, and Two Eights, all black. Wild Bill Hickock’s “Dead Man’s Hand”. It fits me for many reasons. While I am very much alive, many consider this life to be my second coming. Before my surgery, most of my friends considered my hospital to be my death bed.
Statistically, a person that survives 5 years after my surgery, survives another 20 or so. I am surviving my 5th year. March 2009, is my five year anniversary. I wonder how this tattoo idea would be like laughing at death.
Not sure. But here I have committed my thoughts to the written word.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
signs
I was on my last call of the night and I saw what seemed like a
spectral light dart across the road at a railroad crossing. I don't
know how else to describe it. I got a funny feeling and decided to
quit for a bit. On the way home I stopped to get a Slurpee and when I
returned, both headlights were burned out. I drove dark to the
Supercenter and bought replacements and installed them. They worked
and as I drove away I noticed one of my tires went flat. I need to
stay off the road. My instincts have served me well thus far I am not
going to ignore them now.
spectral light dart across the road at a railroad crossing. I don't
know how else to describe it. I got a funny feeling and decided to
quit for a bit. On the way home I stopped to get a Slurpee and when I
returned, both headlights were burned out. I drove dark to the
Supercenter and bought replacements and installed them. They worked
and as I drove away I noticed one of my tires went flat. I need to
stay off the road. My instincts have served me well thus far I am not
going to ignore them now.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Junior detective boy
A year ago or so, I had a pickup at a motel. The fare ended up
running after at 30 mile ride. I filed a complaint with the local
cops. They were pretty sure they knew who the guy was, as he ducked
out right behind a woman's house that just happens to be the mother of
a local troublemaker that fit the man's description. TODAY they
have a man in custody suspected of robbery that bears a remarkable
resemblance to my runner. He was staying at the very same motel I
picked up at then. Admittedly this is all circumstantial, but I am
compelled to share what information I have. The guy seemed very smug.
running after at 30 mile ride. I filed a complaint with the local
cops. They were pretty sure they knew who the guy was, as he ducked
out right behind a woman's house that just happens to be the mother of
a local troublemaker that fit the man's description. TODAY they
have a man in custody suspected of robbery that bears a remarkable
resemblance to my runner. He was staying at the very same motel I
picked up at then. Admittedly this is all circumstantial, but I am
compelled to share what information I have. The guy seemed very smug.
--
[Kevin]
sent from my Samsung u740
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