SoCal Cabbie

Gringo learns Spanish the hard way

2008-08-24T22:45:00.003-07:00

I don't speak Spanish, but I've picked up a little bit along the way. A Hyundai Tiburon drove by a cab stand and I said the car is okay, but why does it have a nonsensical name? A Mexican-American driver said it means "shark" in Spanish. I had absolutely no idea. I thought the good folks at Hyndai had tried to invent something! Does anyone know about the Buick LaCrosse in Montreal, or the Chevy Nova in South America?

I've been using tiburon on the radio lately. We have some yellow taxis, some blue, and some white. When business is slow drivers will identify themselves as "el bandito azule" for the blue ones, etc. One guy has the ID "el mejor", meaning "the best", on account of getting long rides. When I hear these IDs, I'll say (please forgive the spelling), "Jo soy el tiburon!"

On a related theme, I remember when a Mexican driver taught me to say, "How are you?" He said, and again please forgive the spelling, "Comme es ta, culo?"

I said that to a few drivers, but thankfully not to any Mexican customers, before somebody explained that it means, "How are you, asshole?" The joke was on the gringo.

McCain by 10 points?

2008-08-24T22:45:00.001-07:00

Most of our drivers believe John McCain will be our next president. A few think it will be Obama, and one still thinks it might be GWB again, after a coup sets him up as dictator. From cabstand discussions, it seems our drivers believe experience will give McCain an edge.

We seem evenly split on left and right wing -- we have a number of people who are liberal, and a few conservatives. Some are independent, and there's an odd libertarian. Most want a smaller federal government, but with a strong military. Most believe energy independence is America's biggest need, which isn't too surprising considering fuel is not included in the cab lease.

Border blues

2008-08-24T22:44:00.002-07:00

We have a few Mexican drivers who live in Tijuana. They're always complaining about the long line to cross the border into the USA. It takes 1-3 hours. I mentioned to one of them that for $300 or so, per year, he can get an express pass. It's supposed to be much quicker (I read about it in the paper). He said, "I don't want to give money to the U.S. government." An American couldn't have said it better!

Another driver had an idea: Why don't you just run across the desert like everybody else?

The Mexican guy laughed, taking the joke in stride.

Big Marcy

2008-08-24T22:44:00.001-07:00

I apologize up front for the upcoming crude language about large ladies. While I harbor no ill will for the bigguns, I decided to write this in the way it was discussed. Remember that we are, after all, cabbies!

After midnight our informal cab stands form across the street from any number of bars. One such stand has generated a regular customer: Big Marcy. Her qualities include the following:

+ 300 lbs or more
+ dumb
+ lazy
+ mean
+ alcoholic
+ needs alcohol rehabs and Weight Watchers.

She likes to curse, especially at cab drivers and her skinny husband. She treats him like a slave, barking orders at him. Also, Big Marcy is a short ride and she doesn't tip. Despite all this, I'm sure she's a fine woman. I'm the Pope, by the way.

Because people can't smoke in bars in California, there's usually a crowd of smokers in front of bars. Like hawks we watch these crowds for a raised hand or the yell, "Taxi!" Some people just give The Look, as if that's sufficient. When we get a taker, the guy first in line will start his car, do a U-turn, and pull around to the bar. We also watch these crowds for pukers and other undesirables. Fortunately for us, Big Marcy is easy to spot.

Standing around with other drivers, somebody will yell, "Marcy!" and the first driver will get in his car, readying to leave the stand if she wants a cab. Sometimes drivers get belled to her, meaning she called HQ from her cell. If the driver refuses the bell, he loses the next hour's worth of bells, making refusal a bad option. He might get an angry call from the cab company owner, too, and that's not pleasant.

Last night Marcy came out of a bar and jiggled her way through the throng of smokers and came to rest at the curb. We became anxious. From our vantage point across the street, we saw her raise a chubby arm. We all looked away, pretending not to see.

The arm waved with vigor, and the jokes commenced:

(I did warn you we're cabbies. I'd like you to believe I didn't join in.)

Then the worst thing that can happen, happened. Big Marcy reached into a purse the size of a carry-on and pulled out a cell phone. The first driver jumped in his taxi, started his car, and was gone for the night. The second driver leaned in his window and switched off his radio. So sorry, he joked, I didn't hear my radio.

The third driver was looking dejected. After dispatch tried in vain to reach the first two, the third was called. I was fourth in line and, needing him to accept the bell, made a mockery of telling him it was his duty to answer the radio and take the bell. Is he a person of strong moral fiber, or not? "The honorable thing to do," I explained, "is to help that poor woman." If my appeals failed, I'd have to offer him cash.

With a lot of cursing before keying the mic, he accepted the bell, then proceeded to light a fresh cigarette. We all laughed at the slow pace he was setting. Big Marcy, meanwhile, is watching us from across the street. Then the driver did something that has never been tried before. He moved his front seats all the way back, easily done by leaning in the open windows and pressing the buttons. "My seat motors are broken," he practiced. "Think she'll fit back there?"

One smart-guy pointed out that the skinny hubby will take the back seat, and Marcy will take the front. He hadn't thought of that, but he quickly recovered, moving the passenger side seat all the way forward, then tilting the back of the seat all the way back.

Before he left he said something about not being able to reach the pedals, but he did well, considering. He made his U-eey and pulled to the curb. We watched poor ole Marcy open one door and then another, then give up.

Dispatch came on the radio:

Dispatch: What happened with Marcy? She's saying you refused to drive her.

Driver: She doesn't fit in the car. The electric seats aren't working, so we couldn't make it work.

Dispatch: 10-4.

He then went on to the next driver, who never answered.

Tonight the driver who had the "seat malfunction" received a call from the owner, who tried to catch him in the lie by telling him to bring the car to the mechanic immediately to get the car worked on. It was a blown fuse, the driver explained, and he had just replaced it.

That night the owner made an announcement on the radio: All drivers will pick up Marcy, with no exceptions.

We've gone through that with several other bad customers, like Reed and the deceased Marzetti. Now we'll have to put more work into it, just like with those others. We'll have to monitor Marcy's whereabouts during the course of her drunken evenings and evade by changing stands legitimately. I have trouble remembering, so maybe I'll use the small notebook I keep in the car for gambling pools.

If I miss the radio calls giving away her movements, I can always do what I do with the others: pay some other driver to take the bell. Somebody will usually take an idiot off my hands for $5 or $10.

Self portrait

2008-08-24T22:43:00.002-07:00

A brush with the Kittyhawk

2008-08-24T22:43:00.001-07:00

I drove three black sailors from the Kittyhawk (aircraft carrier). They were going from a bar area back to the NAS navy base, where the ship is parked (berthed?). They had just come back from Japan, and I asked them if they liked it. They had two observations about Japan:

1. Japanese girls are easy. Their only requirement: don't lie and don't cheat. "You just don't tell them you have other girls, and everything's great. They cook for you and treat you right."

2. The Japanese don't brush their hair (sailors' claim). I asked about that, and one of them said: "Maybe it's 'cuz I'm a black man, but we brush our hair. The NEX (Navy Exchange, on-base retail store) ran out of brushes and they never got more." So they went out into the towns and cities searching for a hair brush. Not only did no store carry a hair brush, but the Japanese didn't have any idea what they were talking about.

The guy said: "I finally played charades with one dude, and he brought me to the dog section and pointed at dog brushes." I burst out laughing at the story, and he and his fellows laughed, too.

Is is true? the Japanese don't brush their hair? Or do they use something besides brushes and combs?

The sailor told me, just before paying at Avis near the airport, that if he ever gets stationed in Japan again, he's bringing a crate of brushes, and when the NEX runs out, he's going to sell them for $50 each.

Returning the rig in Golden Hill

2008-08-24T22:42:00.000-07:00

Driver games: Zach and Slingblade

2008-08-24T22:40:00.000-07:00

We've had some terrific radio fights between Zach and Sunshine (who has been renamed Mr. Congeniality, and sometimes Slingblade). Usually we let Slingblade bellow and cause trouble without attempting to counter him. He's one of those people that has to be handled delicately because, well, he's a psycho cab driver and we know he's done time for assault in the past. Nobody wants to push him too far. Enter Zach, our young driver who doesn't give a damn.

Slingblade jumped the line of drivers trying to reach dispatch and Zach was on him:

Now somebody was stepping on him, keying the mic when he spoke. It may have been Zach, but it could have been anybody. In the middle of this entertainment, somebody held down their mic and played the theme song from the movie Rocky.

you

your

That blew over in a few minutes. Later that night I got into the mix, which I usually try to avoid. Slingblade yelled at somebody on the radio, and I mimicked Zach's voice: "Get ahold of yourself."

I laughed so hard I almost had to pull over. I had drunks in the car, and they were amused at the exchange. Later on a cab stand I jokingly apologized to Zach. He said: "Funny, I never knew I was 'queer'."

We all speculated on who had brilliantly played the Rocky theme song, but nobody would admit to it. Just having the song and then being quick enough to queue it up and play it during the radio fight was fantastic. Several days later we're still talking about it. I wonder which smug bastard is inwardly gloating at this?

At Nimitz & Harbor

2008-08-24T22:30:00.002-07:00

Good customers, but a difficult ride

2008-08-24T22:30:00.001-07:00

One day last week I went out to the cab to start my shift and found a note on the dash: Brake lights not working. I checked, and found that the main lights were out, but the third in the rear window was working. That was enough to get me through my shift. Cops usually give a warning for that, and worst case scenario I get a fix-it ticket, with no points on my license.

I dropped by HQ on my way to work, glad to find nobody there except the dispatcher, and filled out a work request for the brake lights. I also made a note of a belt squeal that's driving me crazy. I found out later that my daytime cab partner has had the squeal worked on three times already, and it's quiet for two days then comes back.

My first ride of the day was a family of four -- mom, dad, and two noisy kids. Traffic was heavy, the kids were a huge distrction, and the parents were asking tourist questions (normally I enjoy this). On top of this, it was a hot day, requiring AC, and the engine has been overheating with the AC on. For a week or so I've been using AC while watching the temp gauge, shutting it off for a few minutes to cool the engine, then turning it on again.

Now I find myself in heavy traffic and I'm concerned about having only one, small brake light. I'd hate to get rear-ended. Answering all the family's questions, and trying to tune out the yelling of the little kids, I'm trying to drive on the freeway in heavy, stop-and-go traffic while using the brake lights as little as possible, and at the same time cycling the AC to keep the engine cool. It was a real workout.

In the midst of this, a CHP cruiser came up behind me. Now I've got all of the above things going on, plus there's a good chance of getting pulled over because of the brake lights. I gently maneuvered into another lane and let the cop go by, fiddling with the AC and explaining that Sea World is just north of the airport and, yes, Old Town is a nice place to visit because of the good restaurants, shopping, and the State Park.

I got them to their hotel in Mission Valley without getting ticketed and without burning up the engine. They never knew about the drama.

SEAL tours

2008-08-24T22:26:00.000-07:00

I shot these on Ingraham St in Mission Bay, near Sea World. It's an amphibious tour vehicle.

Cheating on online college courses

2008-08-24T22:25:00.000-07:00

I picked up three well dressed young women at an expensive hotel, going to the Hard Rock Hotel in the Gaslamp Quarter. On the way they talked continually, eventually settling on the topic of how one of them was making extra money. She found a guy on Craig's List looking for somebody to take an online course for him. She took the course, as him, and aced it, and she got $200 for it. She said it was entry-level math, and was simple for her.

He told some friends, and now she has a nice cash business going. For summer session (don't know what college or where she lives) she has made $2000 without breaking a sweat.

2008-08-24T22:24:00.002-07:00

Weird women

2008-08-24T22:24:00.001-07:00

I was belled to a residential address in an average neighborhood. Only the garage was visible, and there was a Toyota in the driveway covered in dirt and twigs, obviously unused for a long time. I went through a gate in a row of shrubs and found a backyard with a pool. Everything, including the pool, looked dirty.

A woman of about 60 walked towards me, wearing dirty jeans and a dirty shirt, with a drink in her hands. I'm thinking: "Here we go, another live one." She called for the cab and she'd be ready to go in a minute. Another woman of similar age and cleanliness walked up to me and hugged me, saying, "George, it's good to see you again." There are two of these morons, how nice. I said I'm not George. She introduced me to her friend, calling me George again. "Nice to meet you," I said to the woman I had already met, "I'm not George."

The woman who hugged me had deep red gashes in her cheeks. She explained that her husband had beaten her and she is divorcing him. "I put that bastard through law school!" she yelled.

The woman who called for the cab gathered up some debris that was obviously trash, put everything into a white, plastic garbage bag, and got in the back of the cab. We headed for the Amtrak station downtown, which would be a $28 ride or so.

She told me she had just been let out of jail after getting a DUI, and it was in jail that she had met the other woman. To commiserate their fate, and celebrate being released, they spent the last three days drinking. She claims to have been at a party, drinking heavily, when she decided to go to another party. Being too drunk to drive, she asked a young man -- who seemed sober -- to drive her. So they went together to another house. This party was very rowdy, and after a couple of hours the police showed up (she didn't say if this was in San Diego).

Her ride took off running, and as far as she knows, he got away. She doesn't know why he ran, but speculated he had outstanding warrants. She waited for the cops to cool things down, then got in the guy's truck to drive home. She got a few miles before getting pulled over for DUI. The rest is history.

We arrived at the Santa Fe Depot, and she thanked me and gave me a $10 tip on top of the good fare.

The day after I met the two women, I was belled to an Albertson's grocery store. There I picked up a disheveled man, about 30, with a bag of booze. He was a little off, and I thought he might have mental problems. He gave me his address, and I noticed it was next door to the house where I'd picked up the weird woman the day before.

He chatted non-stop the whole way, saying that he is an alcoholic and lives off an allowance from his father, who is an attorney. He lives next door to them in one of their many houses. He also said his parents are getting a divorce, and that he was disappointed at that.

I was hoping he'd explain how his parents had fought so violently that injuries, jail time, and divorce resulted. Unfortunately he said no more.

CHP

2008-08-24T22:22:00.002-07:00

Cash cab

2008-08-24T22:22:00.001-07:00

A lot of people have jokingly asked me if I'm the Cash Cab. This is a show on cable -- Discovery? Lately I've been telling them I don't have any cash to give away, but I could lay some trivia questions on them. These are some of the questions I've been asking, with answers below:

1. What's the longest river in Europe?
2. What is Pi to two decimal places?
3. What is Pi?
4. How many engines does the Space Shuttle have?
5. What was America's most successful submarine in WWII?
6. Who is, arguably, the single most important person in the American Revolution?
7. What is an Astronomical Unit?
8. What is the name of America's newest supercarrier?
9. How many planes does a Nimitz class carrier hold?
10. How many nuclear reactors does a Nimitz carrier contain? (and for sailors, how many shafts?)
11. What size engine is in a Ford Crown Victoria, like this taxi?
12. What is the only state in the Union that can legally divide itself into smaller states?
13. What is the first aircraft in the world capable of flying above the speed of sound for prolonged periods?
14. Where was the last bank Jesse James robbed?
15. How many times has Bret Favre retired?
16. Who was the State of Virginia named after?
17. Where will the 2012 Olympics be held?

1. Danube (Is this right? I'm not even sure, but I've never been challenged on it.)
2. 3.14
3. The number of radians that can be placed around the circumference of a circle.
4. 49
5. The U.S.S. Barb
6. John Adams
7. The distance between the center of the Sun and the center of the Earth, or about 93 million miles.
8. George H. W. Bush (I don't ask this of sailors because they all know the answer.)
9. 85
10. 2 (4 shafts)
11. 4.6 liters
12. Texas
13. F-22 Raptor
14. Northfield, Minnesota
15. Who cares?
16. Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen
17. London

OB and Pt. Loma

2008-08-24T22:13:00.000-07:00

After getting a nice, long ride out to Ocean Beach (OB) with a naval aviator, I snapped a few random shots. We took I-8 west from the 5, then grabbed Sunset Cliffs into the neighborhoods. There was a crash on the 8 back in Mission Valley, and it snarled traffic all along, so when I came back I went over the hump from OB to Pt. Loma and down Nimitz to Harbor Dr.

This shot and the next two are ordinary street scenes in OB, facing the ocean (and the sun!).

This shot and the rest are of Pt. Loma, facing the bay and downtown.

Vomit

2008-08-24T22:09:00.000-07:00

I was sitting on a cab stand with two other drivers, and we were out of our taxis, talking. A cab from another zone stopped on the street next to us, coming to a screeching halt. The back door popped open and a young man with a baseball cap leaned out and barfed for at least two minutes. We were revolted. The guy finally got out of the cab and paid his driver.

The driver looked at us, and without exchanging a single word, we had a conversation: Sometimes this job sucks. These drunks are tiresome. Good luck, my friend.

He got in his cab and drove off.

Meanwhile, the drunk guy held up both arms, index fingers extended: "I'm ready for the next round!" He staggered across the street and into one of the bars.

At least he had the sense to deposit the contents of his stomach outside the guy's taxi.

Train at night

2008-08-24T22:04:00.002-07:00

Nine lives

2008-08-24T22:04:00.001-07:00

I picked up a man, about 45, on a very busy street. He was going to the airport for a return to San Francisco to visit his family. He has been working in San Diego and living in SF for over a year; and the weekly commutes and being away from the family are wearing him out.

He said he finally convinced the family to move to San Diego, and bought the house on the busy street. He's apprehensive because nobody wants to live here, with friends and full lives up in the Bay Area. Now that they've agreed to move, his final worry is the family cat. "She's a good cat, but I don't know how she will survive on this busy street."

He explained that with the family already unhappy about moving, it would be a complete disaster if the cat got killed. He said: "If the cat dies, I'll be in the dog house."

We had an interesting discussion about how the cat will have nine lives to spend in San Diego.

Part of the routine

2008-08-24T21:59:00.000-07:00

The streak is intact

2008-08-24T21:55:00.000-07:00

I've now worked every day since July 13. It's the busy season in San Diego and I'm trying to take full advantage. I still cringe when I think about what we call the taxi recession of 2007. This was actually the 2007-8 winter season, when there was no business to speak of. Our old timers said at the time they hadn't seen it that slow since right after 9/11. Oldtimer doormen at the hotels said the same thing.

Since July 13, 2008 I've had two days where I worked two hours or less. One was due to my car having an electrical problem, and the other was due to anger. One Sunday afternoon I was hearing great rides all around me, and I was getting all no-gos and short, local trips. I've been getting better at letting this stuff go, but on that one occasion I was so angry I left -- but the streak is officially intact.

Even with the high gas prices, money stacks up when I work 8-10 hrs a day, 7 days a week. I'm giddy whenever I check my bank balance.

Sales jokes

2008-08-03T20:17:00.000-07:00

Last night I drove a man and woman in sales. The man told a joke about a man who died and went to Heaven. When he got to the pearly gates St. Peter showed him the attractions -- relaxing on clouds, eating great meals, and listening to harp music. The man thanked him, but decided to go down to Hell to see what that was all about. Satan met him at the gate and showed him around. He saw wild sex parties with the best wine and spirits. He decided on Hell, and Satan brought him inside again. When he got inside he saw something very different from what he had seen before. Now there were people being tortured and burned and living in cages. "Satan," he asked, "where are the great parties and all the fun stuff?" Satan said, "That was when you were a prospective client. You're a client now."

I suggested that this was also like the difference between dating and marriage. The man offered:

Man: Do you know what food kills the female sex drive?

Me: No.

Man: Wedding cake.

Photos from the last few days

2008-08-03T18:20:00.000-07:00

City workers speaking with a homeless man.

Coronado Bridge at night, and the next.

Seen better days

A note about posting

2008-07-31T18:18:00.000-07:00

At the present I have no internet connection at home or in the car. I'm considering my options right now, and hope to be more connected soon. In the meantime, I take notes in the cab, and then, about twice a month, post everything I have.

Due to the lack of internet, I'm behind in reading my favorite blogs, which are all listed on my sidebar. If you host one of these blogs, you probably haven't seen me in your tracking stats, and I've not been making comments. Once I get re-established online, I'll be back! See you soon.

Thanks!

USS George Washington change of command

2008-07-31T17:50:00.000-07:00

Various news sources reported yesterday that the captain of the USS George Washington, a Nimitz class aircraft carrier in San Diego right now, has been relieved of command. From AP:

The announcement by the Navy came as Adm. Robert F. Willard, commander of the U.S. Pacific Fleet, relieved the carrier's commanding officer, Capt. David C. Dykhoff, and the executive officer of duty, Capt. David M. Dober.

Willard cited lost confidence in the commanding officer and his failure to meet mission standards after the investigation found unauthorized smoking by a crew member appeared to have ignited flammable liquids and other combustible material that were improperly stored. The other officer was relieved of duty for substandard performance

I've driven many sailors and a few officers of the Washington in my taxi. I heard a lot of things in the back seat that weren't meant for public consumption. I drove four carloads of enlisted sailors last night, the day the news came out about the change of command. I asked each what they thought about it. Every sailor said the same thing, paraphrased here:

The fire was a serious problem, and it could have been prevented. The captain should not have been relieved, though, because somebody in the lower ranks made a mistake.

They also said they hope it doesn't destroy his career, but none were hopeful for Dykoff on this point.

The official website of the George Washington has this to say about Dykhoff:

Captain Dykhoff is a graduate of U.S. Air Force Air War College, U.S. Navy Test Pilot School, U.S. Navy Fighter Weapons School (TOPGUN), Joint Forces Staff College, Air Command and Staff Command, and Naval Nuclear Power and Prototype Schools. He holds a Bachelor of Science degree in Electrical Engineering and Applied Physics, and a Master of Science in Systems Engineering. He is authorized to wear the Legion of Merit, Joint Meritorious Service Medal, Meritorious Service Medal, Air Medal, Joint Commendation Medal, Navy Commendation Medal, and other awards.

Captain Dykhoff took command of USS GEORGE WASHINGTON on 14 December 2006.

This is an impressive naval officer. I hope he can overcome the present troubles. With my admittedly small knowledge of the navy and the events that took place on the Washington, I would say the navy needs men like him. There's an old custom on the high seas that a captain should go down with his ship. The Washington was damaged, but it didn't go down; perhaps this is what will happen to its captain.

License plate

2008-07-31T17:12:00.001-07:00

Model A

2008-07-31T17:11:00.000-07:00

This is a Ford Model A, isn't it?

The cost of avoiding Reed

2008-07-31T17:09:00.000-07:00

I got a bell to an address I didn't recognize, so I asked the others on the stand if they've heard of it. Nobody had. It was also from another cab stand, and I knew we had at least one car over there, so I asked about it on the radio. Dispatch said there is one on that stand, but he announced he's "holding the hotel," which means he's only taking calls from the hotel he's close to.

My bell also requested to use a credit card, which I despise. I lose 10% and have to wait 2-3 weeks to get the credit. It turned out to be a very nice lady going all the way to La Jolla, and after a $52 ride, she upped it to $62 with the tip.

When I returned to our zone I stopped by the stand where the guy was holding the hotel. It was Zach, a good guy, and he was seething that he missed the La Jolla ride off his own stand! He was tracking Reed's movements, and thought the next call would be Reed wanting to go home, so he held the hotel to avoid him. Ha! That cost him.

More posts on Reed can be found here. If the link doesn't work, just search for Reed in the search box at the top of the blog.

Comic-Con

2008-07-31T17:03:00.000-07:00

San Diego survived another Comic-Con, where 125,000 people descended on us to enjoy some pop culture. The LA Times had a front page story on opening day that said the event began more than 30 years ago as a place to buy, sell, and browse comic books. Today it's about comic books, movies, animation, TV and the web.

We saw a spike in business, but we weren't extremely busy. In past years I've driven people dressed up like Superman and Chewbacca, but I had no people in costume this year. I actually drove more people who were working at the event than attending it as a fan. These included Sean Phillips, with Yahoo Movies, and he was a very nice guy. I brought him to his hotel, and we had a nice discussion the whole way.

Another guy I drove is the owner of PopCultureShock.com. He was also a really nice guy, though I didn't get his name. He was in San Diego to cover the event for his website.

I also drove several groups of animators working on various films. Star Trek is the only film I remember specifically. One group was discussing, among other things, how it's expensive to pay people to create digital models from scratch, and how money can sometimes be saved by purchasing pre-existing models.

Couple of night shots

2008-07-31T17:01:00.000-07:00

The Look

2008-07-31T17:00:00.000-07:00

I believe I've mentioned the look before, but never as The Look. Sitting around a cab stand one night we were discussing how strange it is that some people just watch us drive by, saying nothing and making no hailing gestures, but then when we're several car lengths past, they'll shout angrily. It's as if they're willing us to stop, and then get angry when this strategy fails. Finally, somebody referred to this as The Look.

It's nice to have a formal name for a common, and comical, phenomenon. We often leave these people to their own devices, assuming if they're foolish enough to try to hail a cab with only their eyeballs, they're probably not going far and they're probably not big tippers.

Boredom shots

2008-07-31T16:58:00.000-07:00

Honest or dishonest?

2008-07-31T16:55:00.000-07:00

I believe I spotted a pattern (no Beautiful Mind jokes, please). A customer gave me $20 on a $13 fare and it took me a while to get him the change. Usually I'm organized, but when it gets busy, I stuff money into my pocket and organize it later, and it takes time to dig through the mess to make change. So I'm digging through my wad, trying to find the correct change, and the customer got impatient. "Just give me $2."

It has worked many times since then, and I'm certain the tips are bigger. Some people are so anxious to get out of the cab and into the next bar, they'll settle for a couple of quick singles to expedite matters. Sometimes they watch me fumble with the money for a while, then say, "Keep it," and jump out. I don't believe this is dishonest. I'm trying to make the correct change, and they're impatient. If they want to pay for fast service, that's great! I'm all for it.

Does anyone think this is dishonest?

If they're too drunk, the trick doesn't work, but there are other tricks for them. I don't use them, but we have drivers who do: ask for the money up front, saying that "at this hour, it's policy." If they're drunk enough, they'll wake up at their destination, look at the meter, and pay again.

Some guys leave the meter running from the last ride, and a properly inebriated person won't notice, and they pay for their ride and the previous one. I hear there's an art to this. You have to judge the person correctly or they'll cry foul. The fix is to apologize and say what the fare normally would be, and if they are still angry, you can tell them the ride is on the house.

The term for these games: You pay to play.

I offended Mark

2008-07-31T16:53:00.000-07:00

I've been following Mark's personal life as a curiosity (see this post) for some time. Last night he walked up to one of our cab stands, where I was second in line. He asked if I could drive him, and the first driver graciously said he didn't mind. Then Mark saw me smoking, and said he'd have a smoke with me before we set off.

Mark doesn't smoke, but I saw he was extremely drunk, which would explain it. So he puts a cigarette in his mouth backwards and lights a match. I told him to stop, and he changed it around. I started laughing, and he got mad. "Are you laughing at me?" Yes, I told him, I am, because it's funny. What's the problem? He threw the cig on the ground and jumped into the back of the first cab.

First cabbie: Am I driving him now?

Me: Looks that way.

Boredom shots

2008-07-31T16:38:00.000-07:00

Trash pizza

2008-07-31T16:33:00.000-07:00

Myself and two other drivers, Oakland and Zach (Oakland having been renamed after getting a flag to Oakland, Calif. three years ago), were kicking back at a cab stand during the lull between midnight and 1 a.m. Oakland, having arrived first, said there's a pizza "over there" if we wanted any. Zach walked to a city trash can on the sidewalk and came back with a pizza box. He opened it and there was half a pizza inside, cold.

Me: From the trash? No.

Oakland: It wasn't in the trash. It was on top.

Me: You're selling, Oakland, but you ain't buying. Let's see you eat a piece.

Oakland, smiling: I just ate, I'm full.

Me: Riiiight.

Zach, shoveling in a piece: Looks fine to me.

I made a ham of watching him to see if he'd keel over. We laughed that Zach was a true cabby, eating pizza found in the trash. Then Oakland got a bell and went into his car and started it. On a whim I took a piece of the pizza and set it on his rear bumper. He left, returning 15 minutes later after a short ride. Zach and I hurried to his car and found the pizza was still there. Oakland got out and asked what we were doing back there.

Me: Oakland, you are a smooth driver.

Zach picked up the pizza and put it back in the box alongside the remaining slices, then put the box in the back seat of his car.

Zach: The drunks will be calling soon. I'm sure they'll want some pizza. Maybe I'll get a good tip.

We laughed at the thought of drunks eating pizza that was found in a trash can, one piece having toured the neighborhood on the bumper of a car. This spawned a discussion about entrepreneurism. If food was kept in the cabs for bar rush, we could probably sell it. If Zach's pizza experiment goes well, we may raid the trash can for morsels before each bar rush and make some extra cash. Drunks are hungry, and they're usually not picky. Most are so drunk they'd never notice they're getting a half-eaten hamburger or something like that.

That episode was about four days ago, and ever since, on every cab stand when Zach is around, somebody will point to a trash can and suggest he get himself something to snack on. We'll be laughing about the trash pizza for weeks to come.

Another aside: On the day when Zach ate the trash pizza (earlier that day), he got a civilian to shake a fist out his car window and curse at him. It was fantastic. I was unloading at the airport, just behind a civilian car, against the curb. A cab swung in and parked, blocking the civilian car, which had just begun to move out. It was Zach, and rather than move his car, he ignored the civilian and got out to unload his customer's luggage from the trunk.

On the way back to our zone I followed Zach on the freeway and hailed him on the radio. "Did you see the guy in the black car back there?" He never even saw the guy, but was greatly amused that he earned a shaken fist. "I just don't care anymore," was his response. I wasn't sure if he was joking or if he's getting burned out.

The new guy

2008-07-31T16:29:00.001-07:00

We got a new driver early last week. About 40 years old, he looks normal, but he is a little odd. During his training period, where he rides with an experienced driver, I was on stand with him. Me, his trainer, and him broke out my football, the leather one this time, and it turns out this guy has a hell of an arm. He claims to have played quarterback through high school, and I don't doubt this. I told him I don't care what kind of cabbie he becomes, just stick around so we have one great arm in the bunch.

Eric is his name, and he had a doozy of a first night with his own taxi. I just came on duty when I got belled to a street corner. Then I heard the excitement.

Eric: 22

Dispatch: 22

Eric: There's a flag at XYZ address. You sent me here, right?

Disp, who is the ever impatient Louie: No, no, no! I sent you to ABC, not XYZ. You aren't picking them up, are you?

Eric: Ummm, no, not really.

Louie let him have it. She red him the riot act and then some. The trainer had trained him well, though, and he handled it magnificently. He was told that Louie is the meanest woman he'll ever deal with -- under no circumstances do you fight with her. Let her win, swallow your pride, and go with the flow. Eric got to feel the heat on his very first ride!

Now, three out of four guys would have taken the flag and ignored the bell and let Louie complain all she wants. Eric wanted to do it right. I do it right, as well, and respect guys who care enough to get the right customers.

Eric said fine, and went and got the correct people. Meanwhile, I was belled to the flag he had discovered, and when I picked them up I asked about the other cab. They had heard him getting worked over by Louie and sympathized. "He said he just started, and we were going to be his first customers. He's a really nice guy." I agreed, and we had a nice ride across town.

Later that night, Eric made headlines again. All I heard at the time was, "22 calling, I'm coming to the office." At a cab stand a half hour later I asked if anyone knew about what happened to him. He had been sent for a PD call, and picked up two drunk navy guys, both of whom vomited all over the back seat of his cab. Poor guy! Talk about a trial by fire! He gets Louie at her finest, and gets the vomit. In my three and a half years, I've never had a vomit incident inside the car -- well, twice, but they both brought their own bags to barf in. One or two people have done it out the window.

Now, two nights later, he's still working. Some guys would have quit after a night like his first night.

One odd thing about Eric: He doesn't say the word "the" on the radio. One of our drivers commented about this while sitting around a cab stand. We all paid attention for a few hours, then compared notes later. Nobody has ever heard him utter the word. How weird is that? It's okay, because his throwing arm more than makes up for it.

Train at night

2008-07-31T16:27:00.000-07:00

My old cab partner and a lot of cursing

2008-07-31T16:21:00.001-07:00

An old mystery has been solved. I do a lot of personal stuff in North Park -- renting movies, going to restaurants, etc. I don't live there, but I like the area. Once in a while somebody would yell at me as I drove along. Usually it was prophane, like: "Cabbie get the fuck out of my neighborhood!" Once it was: "We don't like fucking taxis around here! Fuck off!"

I would always scan around, but I never saw the perpetrator. The North Park crank is the third time I found somebody who had an irrational hatred of cabbies -- maybe sometime in the past these people got taken the long way round, and their hatred is deep at this point. Who knows? It's not uncommon, so I pay it no mind.

Well, Saturday night I was in the middle of a long ride, and we made a stop at the Pink Elephant at 30th and University. I was waiting while one of my two passengers ran into the bar to find a friend, then we were going to continue on to El Cajon. Somebody came to the passenger window and said, "Can I have a ride?" Without really looking, I said, "No, I'm driving someone right now," and motioned to the back seat. The guy repeated the statement, like an idiot. This is typical of some of the people we find on the streets.

Finally I looked right at him, and it was Tom, a former cab partner of mine. Even though he left the company under a cloud, and sort of left me holding the bag, there were no hard feelings. Being a former cabbie, he knew exactly how to imitate a dumb customer. We laughed and chatted while I waited for my customer to come back.

Then, hearing his voice again, everything clicked. I accused him of being the guy who tells me to "fuck off" whenever I'm around the area. He admitted it, and we had a great laugh at that. "Yeah," he said, "I see you around here all the time. I'm just messing with you." I asked him if he'd ever run into random citizens who actually do that to cabbies, and he said yes, that's why he imitated it.

Tom is moving to Rhode Island in a few weeks. I wished him well.

As an aside, the two ladies I was driving at the time I met Tom were very entertaining. One lives in San Diego, and the other is a friend visiting from Arizona. They had been out drinking and told me about all the guys (described as pathetic) who tried to take them home.

They said one even tried the "cancer approach." It has been tried many times in the past, they said. Apparently some guy had bought them drinks and ended up saying that because he has cancer and doesn't have long to live, maybe they could have a threesome?

I asked them if he could have been telling the truth. They thought not, considering how often they've heard the line. "Besides," one of them said, "cancer isn't very original." Eventually there was a lull in the conversation, and I said: "Did I mention I have Lou Gherig's Disease?" That brought gales of laughter, but alas, it wasn't effective.

Random paper box

2008-07-31T16:12:00.000-07:00

This is from some time last week. I'm guessing this is India's prime minister.

Presidential pool (poll?)

2008-07-31T16:02:00.000-07:00

Here's a pool I started with drivers on April 23, 2008. I specified that this is "who you think will be president, not who you want to be president." You can see I crossed out the first Clinton guess, obviously because she's not in the running any longer.

Jim, who entered "Clinton/Bush?" is technically still in. He said Bush means "George W. Bush," because he feels there's a chance W will stage a military coup and stay in power. Jim is a conspiracy theorist, and he's also a very nice, intelligent guy. I'm never quite sure if he believes in the conspiracies, or if he's joking. For instance, Jim says at least one of the Apollo moon landings was faked.

Here's food for thought. From what I know of my fellow drivers, I think they were unable to distinguish between who "will" be president and who they "want" to be president -- or there may be something deeper going on. I know they also want their picks to win. For instance, the guy who guessed Obama is reading the Collected Writings of Marx and Engel right now, and he just finished a two-inch thick biography of Che Guevara.

Replacing the battery

2008-07-31T15:46:00.000-07:00

Last Friday my cab partner, Vitao, was 40 minutes late for the second time in a row. He apologized and offered to turn the car over at 3pm instead of 4pm next Friday. I agreed, with no hard feelings. Vitao is a good guy. While we were talking, he mentioned the shop had changed our alternator the day before. The battery was discharging during his shift. It seemed fine after that.

New alternator installed by Fred.
Looks like new plug wires too.

Saturday afternoon I picked up the car and the battery idiot light was glowing, and the voltmeter was reading low, and it was dropping slowly as I idled. It was 5:30 p.m., so the mechanic would be gone until Monday morning. Knowing I have a knew alternator, I decided to drive to Auto Zone and buy a new battery.

Typically I check things out with my own meter, but it disappeared from the trunk compartment months ago. I suspect Fred, our thieving mechanic. Also, I wanted to fix it myself since bringing a car to Fred is quite an ordeal. The last time I needed a battery, Fred gave us an old one that he had cleaned to make it look new. My cab partners and I embarked on a three month odyssey of having the car fail to start when we got belled -- cost us a bunch of money and time. We had to get jump starts several times a day before I got Fred to admit the battery wasn't new. Doing things myself avoids all this pain.

New battery installed by me

Ninety dollars and an hour later, I started the car, with the new battery, in the Autozone parking lot to find the problem was still there. Belatedly I checked the grounds and cleaned and tightened the clamps, especially where the copper wires are crimped. No luck.

Bad picture of the battery light and voltmeter

I got on the radio and explained the situation. This was actually quite tricky because the dispatcher was repeatedly calling a single car number. Apparently this driver vanished, and now he was long overdue for the night shift driver. It took more than five minutes to get through.

The dispatcher, Louie, said the cab company owner was in the office, heard me mention the problem, and they told me to drive to the office. I was given a loaner car which looked a bit grim but drove quite well. The last guy to drive it was The Fat Bastard, who bent the seat into a permanent reclining position. All I needed was a sideways baseball cap to complete a gangsta image.

The following idiot lights were glowing on the dash of the loaner:

Air Susp
Check Engine
Air Bag
Anti-Lock

Judging from the amount of space on the dash, that was every light except maybe an oil light. At least I had that going for me. At night, with all those lights on the dash, it was like driving a christmas tree. But holy smokes! the car had a lot more power than my 92, and the transmission is much better. I'm actually considering giving Fred $200 to sneak into the shop on Sunday and swap the engine and transmission with my cab. Nobody would be the wiser, and I'd be a lot happier. Of course, Fred owes me $100 from last October, so that would be worked into the deal. I'll let you know if I make the proposal.

Incidentally, all of our cars with air suspension leak (as far as I know). Instead of removing the garbage air equipment and simply putting in standard Crown Victoria coil springs, the policy is to fill the system beyond capacity, and then let it slowly leak out over two weeks. Repeat. When I picked up the loaner it was jacked up really high in the back, kind of like a 60s muscle car. It is an absurdity that only exists in the wonderful world of taxis. I'm riding around in a car that's jacked up in the back, with nearly every warning light flashing on the dash. I just buckle the seat belt and sigh. If I was a religious type, I'd have crossed myself.

This car is jacked up (hard to see in this shot)

This gives you an idea of the ridiculously
jacked-up stance of the car

Several hours later, while sitting on a cab stand, I found out what happened to the missing driver. He had locked his keys in the taxi down in Imperial Beach, and then walked a very long ways to the Palm Ave trolley station, then came back up into town on the trolley. He didn't have his cellphone with him, and for reasons unknown he didn't stop to use a payphone. His replacement (the evening driver), who told me about this incident, had to wait three hours to get the car. After the driver showed up at HQ and explained himself, the car had to be retrieved from IB. Par for the course.

Coffee and Fire Hydrant

2008-07-31T15:42:00.000-07:00

A few days ago I cleared in downtown, near Ketner and G, which is in the southwest area of downtown. This is close to the It's a Grind coffee shop on 1st and G, so I headed that way to see about a parking spot. They also have free wifi. There were no parking spots open, so I decided to take G all the way up towards 11th, then get on I-5.

While sitting at the light at G and 1st, I got my green and started to move, but I had to slam on my breaks because a Red Cab ran the red going crossways. I looked closely, and I'll be damned if it wasn't Fire Hydrant, the guy who got fired from our company after backing over a hydrant and causing an awful mess and thousands of dollars in damage. This isn't the first time I've run into him -- almost literally -- since he got fired from our company. See this post.

One of our cabs crashed

2008-07-31T15:38:00.000-07:00

I saw this at HQ recently. People say it happened on the freeway, and there were no injuries. I'm guessing he hit an SUV or truck because the bumper is relatively unscathed, but everything above that is wrecked.

Witnessed a bad crash

2008-07-31T15:36:00.000-07:00

I had just cleared at 1st St and Orange Ave, out on Coronado Island, and was waiting in the left turn lane on Orange at 4th. Fourth leads to the bridge going back to San Diego. It was 2:15 a.m., 15 minutes after bar close. A black Toyota Celica was coming towards me on Orange (it's a boulevard, separated by a large median), and ran the red (I think), broadsiding a white car that I never saw closely.

I heard and felt the huge impact in the middle of the intersection, maybe 30 feet from my car. By the time I turned my head and looked, the cars had already hit, and were coasting to a stop. Thick smoke was billowing out from under the hood of the Celica.

My green arrow came on, but I didn't move. Before I could think about what to do, a Coronado cop was on the scene. He must have been very close. I made my turn, figuring he could handle it. In my mirror as I drove away I saw a second police cruiser show up with his cherries on. It was the worst crash I've seen in three and a half years of driving cab.

Cabbie slang

2008-07-31T15:34:00.000-07:00

Drivers have nicknames for many places around San Diego. This list will grow as I remember them. We usually limit them to the cab stand, but most have been used on the radio at one time or another.

National City = Nasty City, National Tragedy

Horton Plaza = Ho plaza

Chula Vista = Chula

La Jolla = (Anglicized, exaggerated pronunciation)

Little Italy = Widdo Iddowee (making fun of one particular driver's mispronunciation)

Hardrock Hotel = Hardcock Hotel

Night shots

2008-07-31T15:27:00.000-07:00

I don't look when I shoot from a moving car. I just hold the camera up and take the shot. The first picture is Front St just south of E, downtown. The second is on G St, with Ralph's on the right.

Reed and my new roommate

2008-07-31T15:14:00.000-07:00

Last Feb 1 I got a new roommate, making what turned out to be a mistake -- the guy's a cab driver! I'll call him Carl. We both drive for the same company, and while the roomie is known for being honest (sets both of us apart on the streets), he is turning out to be a disappointing roommate. Carl, you see, is a raging, out-of-control boozer. An oiler. A drunk. A dumbass. Plus he hires hookers almost every night. His normal routine is to work five or six hours, then go to a strip club and get smashed, and hire a hooker which he says costs $300. He says he's been going to the same strip club for many years, and he knows everyone, and the girls are for hire if they know and trust you. I won't name the club.

Fortunately, he never brings the women home. On second thought...

As a good Libertarian (I'm a practical libertarian), I don't mind what sort of hobbies he enjoys, as long as they don't have a negative impact on me. Sure enough, he has never been on time with the rent, and he usually begs money from me to pay his cab lease. July 1 was the last time for being late. Not only did he make me a promise, I promised myself I'd throw him out if it happens again. I cut off the revolving credit account when he was into me for $450. If a person is borrowing money from me, he's in rough shape.

Did I mention I had a financial crisis late last year? I've been working an average of nine hours per day, six days a week all year, and for the last three weeks I've worked 10 hours per day, seven days per week to save money for the slow times this winter. Meanwhile good ole Carl lives like he's on vacation, spending all kinds of money on hookers and tequila, while borrowing money from me to pay rent and cab lease. Anger doesn't begin to describe how I feel about Carl.

We were extremely busy in June, and most cabbies were flush with cash. I heard one guy say he saved $3000 that month alone. I myself banked $2000. Carl couldn't pay rent at the end of June. He left me a note that said something to the effect of, "Sorry about being short on rent." Now, for July, it has been slower, and he has been leaving work even earlier every night.

This situation called for a pool, and when I presented the question to drivers (everyone knows he's an oiler and that he goes to the strip club every night), everyone agreed that he wouldn't have rent on time for Aug 1. Not much of a pool when everyone agrees!

It just so happens that Carl has personalized Reed, a peculiar little man I've written about in the past. Personalizing means the customer either calls your cellphone directly, or calls the office and requests you by name and/or car number. Old Reed, as I've mentioned previously, goes to one of three restaurants every night of the week, and because Carl leaves early, one of us gets stuck driving him home. I sometimes chide the roommate when he announces he's leaving for the night. "Hey, you can't leave yet. Reed hasn't gone home!"

Two nights ago I was unlucky and got the Reed bell (or Ratclaw or Rainman, as we like to call him). After helping him to the cab, as he pretended to have trouble walking, he mentioned that my roommate must have gone home early (he learned this when he called the office and requested him).

On a whim, I filled him in on the situation:

Me: Well, Reed, he leaves early every night to get a hooker and get drunk off his ass.

Him: He does?

Me: Yes, he does. He usually can't pay the rent because the strip club gets all the money. Ask him about it some time.

I haven't heard anything back yet, but if old Reed's mental faculties are strong enough, which is a 50/50 proposition because he's an idiot, he'll mention it. I wonder if Carl will consider it a joke, or get mad? It's not like his hobbies are a secret. After all, he blabbed all over the streets that when his mother passed away three years ago he received a $250k inheritance -- and within a year it was all gone. He admits he drank it away, and what he didn't drink went to prostitutes. "It was a great year," he likes to muse. No shit it was a good year, drinking and carousing $250k down the drain. He could have bought income property, he could have bought CDs or blue chip stocks. Nope, not this dumbass. Tequila and hookers.

I suspect he'll be late for August rent, and, because I'm an extremely nice guy, I'm giving him two months to get out.

Fuel pool

2008-07-31T15:11:00.000-07:00

I made this pool with drivers in the first week of May, guessing what fuel would cost at a certain gas station, using 87 octane, on July 4. The winner guessed $4.40. He switched to the morning shift, so it'll be awhile before I can tell him of his victory.

Mystery destination

2008-07-31T15:04:00.000-07:00

I was belled to an alley address, and by the house number and neighborhood I knew it would be a problem. Older folks congregate in that area, and while I have nothing against the elderly, they don't make for good taxi customers. What follows is typical.

A man and woman, each over 80, and the guy may have been in his 90s, were waiting for me. They spent several minutes getting in the car, talking the whole while.

Me: Okay, where are you going?

Him: What?

Me: Where are you going?

Him: 6th Avenue

Me: What city?

Him: 6th Avenue

Me louder: What city?

Him: 6th Avenue

Me, remembering that he hears quite well, as he and his wife were conversing at a low volume just moments ago: In what city?

Him: 6th Avenue, then I'll tell you where to go.

Me, turning to stare at him: I need a city, and I also need a cross street or address.

There was dead silence as he looked at me, then past me out the windshield. I started my stopwatch (part of my wristwatch) about ten seconds into this, holding my hand high so he could see what I was doing. He responded when the chrono showed 28 seconds.

Him: Why aren't we driving?

Me: Where on 6th Ave?

Him: 6th Avenue.

A man cannot sigh longer or louder than I did. It simply can't be done, even with training and determination. I can't scream at him -- I'll be him in 50 years. I gave up and drove him towards 6th Ave in downtown San Diego. For all I knew he wanted National City or Losfuckingangeles.

Dispatcher, after a few minutes: 92

Me: 92

Disp: Did you pick up?

Me: 10-4

Disp: Where are you going?

Me, with teeth clenched: No idea.

Disp: Why not?

Me: He won't tell me.

Disp: Do you need assistance?

Me: I need a Tums.

Disp, in an understanding tone (she had taken his original phone call): 10-4

When I got on 6th Ave, I pulled over as soon as I found a clear space along the curb. After an eternity he and his wife were out of the car. The rear door was open, and I saw that they were both up on the curb (well away from the car). The man was looking through his wallet. I realized I didn't want the money, I just wanted to get away. I jammed the throttle, which automatically closed the open door, and drove away.

Fred is back

2008-07-31T12:10:00.000-07:00

To our great dismay, Fred, the mechanic, is back. We heard he had been arrested for possession of marijuana, and had been fired. We were so happy we talked about throwing a party. Yesterday I heard the cab company owner speaking with a driver on the radio, and mentioned that "Fred is at the shop now, so drive over there."

I earned a few laughs at the cab stand with, "Look at the bright side. He'll continue stealing our fuel and improperly fixing our cabs, but now I have a chance to get my $100 back from him."

We're speculating now that the cab company owner bailed him out and brought him back to work -- he's extremely kind hearted, so it's very plausible. I believe it was Zach who said: "He bailed Fred out of jail? It must be hard to find a shitty mechanic." That's dry.

Dodged a huge bullet

2008-07-10T00:59:00.000-07:00

Tony is leaving for six months, which he does every year, and his son isn't replacing him for those months. That probably means nothing to you, but it's everything to cab drivers in my area.

Here's the deal: Tony is actually a fat Polish guy, maybe 50 years of age. He's a really nice guy, and I love talking to him. Tony is his "American name", I don't know what he's called in his native Poland. Anyway, Tony does what many drivers do when they get behind the wheel of a cab -- he turns into a dishonest bastard. Behind his back, we refer to Tony as The Fat Bastard. He's also fat. A while back he got us permanently kicked out of a hotel because of his gluttony. We used to go into that hotel to use the lobby restroom, and The Fat Bastard would help himself to all kinds of Danish and rolls from the free table on his way out. Eventually the desk clerks figured out he was a cab driver, and not a hotel guest. They called the cab company owner and announced that no cab drivers were allowed inside that hotel again.

His son is not fat, but he's 10 times worse than him as far as stealing rides and lying on the radio go. In fact, only Ana is worse than his son.

Now, Tony and his dishonest boy work in 6-month shifts. Tony will work 15 hrs/day for six months, banking cash, then go back to Poland and relax and live the life of Reilly. While he's gone, his boy works for six months, and so on.

This time around, when Tony arrived six months ago, he announced that the Little Bastard wouldn't be coming over to the U.S. anymore. He's finishing a degree at a university in Poland, and then he's going to find a job there. We were elated, but I was too polite to say so in front of Tony.

Then, two weeks ago, Tony announced to a group of drivers, including yours truly, that his son had changed his mind and would be coming in July to work for six months. "Great," I lied. "I can't wait."

Today Tony announced that the cab company owner told his son there are no cars available. This may be true, but it may be that the owner knows what an ass the boy is, and telling him there are no cars for him is an easy way to get rid of him. I put on a really good show for Tony: "Oh, that's a shame. I was really looking forward to working with your son again."

When Tony got belled off the cab stand, we practically high-fived each other with glee that the son would not be ripping us off this year.

Interesting chain of events

2008-07-10T00:06:00.000-07:00

Maybe this is not interesting. I sometimes don't know what might be interesting -- I've seen so many odd things after driving for three and a half years, it's all just another day to me!

Last Thursday, July 3, I noticed there was a metallic clunking coming from the front left suspension. This is the 4th time I've had this problem since I got this cab last September. The last time it was serviced, I had a little chat with the owner, and it didn't go very well. "I think your partners are driving the car too hard." I don't agree with him. I believe the mechanics are doing their usual lousy work. Also, the hood has never fit well, which tells me the car has been crashed in the front some time in the past. It's possible there are bent pieces, possibly the frame itself, and that's causing undue stress on anything that's mounted to it (i.e. suspension pieces). But no, it must be the drivers!

When I finished working I dropped by the office to fill out a work request. This had to be a stealth operation, conducted in the dead of night, to avoid the owner. I really didn't care for another lecture about driving the car gently when my partners and I always drive the car gently.

After describing the clunking sound in detail on the work request, I included this note:

MECHANICS: Please do not remove anything from the cab. The last time the car was in for service, a full bottle of glass cleaner and a new roll of paper towels disappeared. Thank you!

Also while at HQ, I got to see what the new graveyard shift dispatcher looks like. To my great surprise, he doesn't look retarded. He wasn't even drooling. They don't make people more stupid than him, so I wasn't expecting a normal looking person. This guy cannot manage the lineup and mispronounces absolutely everything, in a very comical way. We've been mocking him mercilessly on the radio, and I don't think he's bright enough to realize it. The drivers often discuss the mystery about where on earth these people come from. Where does the owner dredge them up? There must be a headhunter in San Diego who specializes in extremely low IQs.

I took off the next day, which was Friday, Independence Day. Even though I usually make around $400, I decided it's not worth the effort. The owner dispatches on the 4th because it's really busy, and he makes everything stressful and problematic. Also, the streets are so crowded with cars and peds that it takes forever to get anywhere. And people are angry they had to wait so long for a cab. I decided I'm no attorney -- I won't do anything for money, so I took off the 4th.

Saturday night I worked, and it was fairly slow, but I had several nice rides, like Pacific Beach and Chula Vista. The clunking was still there. I work nights, and so the daytime driver of my car handles bringing the car in for service. I often have no idea if work was done, or when. You'd think I would know the car was in for service because something that used to be broken is now fixed. With our mechanic, Fred, you can never really tell. Things he has "fixed" usually break two hours later, and it often takes three or four tries for him to actually fix a problem correctly. Instead of relying on a "fixed" car, I know we've had service done because all the stereo presets have been changed, and I'm usually missing something from the car -- like the pliers I keep in the door pocket for fixing the trunk latch (fails at least three times a day).

When I first checked in with dispatch at the beginning of my shift, she announced that the next ride I got that went anywhere near HQ, I needed to stop by and pick up an envelope. This is radio code for: "You've been selected for a random drug test." Three hours later I still hadn't had a ride out in that direction, so I called her. "It doesn't look like I'm going to get a ride out there. Does that paperwork need to be picked up tonight?" I was hoping not. The rules say we have to get the test done within two hours of picking up the paperwork, so if I can miss the pickup, I can skip the test. Delay it, anyway.

I despise drug tests. I don't do drugs, ever. I don't even drink, except for maybe three beers in the course of a year. As a good Libertarian, I don't believe that my habits on my owner, personal time are any business of my employer. On top of that, it can take two hours to get the test done, and that's time I could be on the streets making money.

"I don't know," she said, "I guess so." So I was off the hook for the night.

On Sunday the 6th I was off again, as Sunday is my usual day off. Monday I worked, and it was slow. Tuesday I tried to work, but the car wasn't in front of my house. I called the office and spoke with the 2nd shift dispatcher. She said she didn't know where my car was or if there was a spare available. The owner was long gone. She did mention that my partner had also called to inquire about the car, which was a clue that it was being serviced. So I was forced to take the night off. Not a big problem. It doesn't really take much to get me to take some R&R time.

Tonight, Wednesday, the car was there. When I climbed in I found a plastic bag containing a new roll of paper towels and a new bottle of Windex glass cleaner. My complaining about the mechanics being thieves paid off. There was a sticky note on the bag saying I may want to keep them in my house. Interesting. The mechanics are robbing us blind, and the solution is to keep things away from them, not fire their thieving asses and hire honest people.

On the dash, blocking out the speedo, was a handwritten note saying: Alignment at XYZ address, 7:45-8 a.m. Thurs or Fri. I left it there after I was finished working tonight. My cab partner will have to take care of that. There is no clunking in the suspension, but the car wanders all over the road; hence the alignment.

Ahhhhhh, and to conclude the festivities, I ran down to the health place for that urine sample. After a half hour of waiting, I was called to the back room where I was asked to piss in a cup, but not until they looked under my hat to make sure I had no contraband piss. These drug screens are humiliating.

Lo and behold, I could only manage a few drops! I was told I had three hours to come up with some more, and I am not allowed to leave the building. I downed a 20-oz bottle of Coke I bought from their vending machine. Normally I can take a 19-oz piss 10 minutes after drinking a 20-oz Coke, but this time -- nada. So I chugged two, 20-oz bottles of water.

By now I needed a smoke, but they wouldn't let me. "You can't leave the building."

It was two hours before I could manage enough to fill up the little cup. What a waste of time. It was a two and a half hour piss. I must have been really dehydrated.

Now that the cab is fixed and I've gone through the drug screen, life can get back to "normal".

Mechanic fired

2008-07-10T00:00:00.000-07:00

Our mechanic, Fred, has been fired. The rumors have circulated for a week that he was arrested for marijuana possession and that the owner fired him over it. He must have had a lot, because it's not a big crime to have just a little in California.

I confirmed today from an office worker that this is true. Now I know why the cars usually come back half fixed, or the same problem crops up two hours after Fred claimed it was fixed. Also, he can't steal our gas anymore, nor can he sell the owner's car parts to anybody who wants them, and pocket the cash.

The sad thing: the bum still owes me $100 from many months back. See this post.

Forbidden places in San Diego

2008-06-26T01:22:00.000-07:00

The USS George Washington, a Nimitz class aircraft carrier, is in port for several months. This is the one that made the news because there was a fire onboard somewhere off the coast of South America, and they came here for repairs. I've been driving a lot of GW (as we call it) sailors out to Coronado to the ship.

One time I heard a group discussing the forbidden list in the back seat. I asked about it, and asked if I could have a copy. They discussed the security of giving it to me, and then decided it didn't constitute a national security breach. I went through a similar thought process before deciding to publish it here.

Without further ado, here's the list the Navy gave GW sailors:

Off-limits at all times:

San Diego -- Club Mustang, Club of San Diego, Get it on Shoppe, Main Street Motel, Vulcan Baths.

National City -- Dream Crystal, Sports Auto Sales

Off-limits at specified times:

San Diego -- 2600 to 3600 block of Main St, including McDonald's and Burger King parking lots on 28th St, from 001-0500 Wed.

Chula Vista -- Denny's parking lot, 692 E St from 0100-0400 Sat and Sun

Off-limits areas from sunset to sunrise:

Otay Mesa

Willie Henderson Park / San Diego City Park

Areas of caution, especially after dark:

Naval Base San Diego (32nd St base) perimeter area.

Trolley stations, especially Palomar St and San Ysidro.

Tijuana:

Libertad (south of Tijuana airport)

Camino Verde (south of city center)

Mariano Matamoros (southeast of city center)

Is it just me, or would a list like this given to 18-22 year-old sailors looking for excitement in port become a must-see list? That Denny's parking lot in Chula Vista must be something to see.

Ana, and going to HQ

2008-06-26T01:02:00.001-07:00

I still haven't had the discussion with the cab company owner about Ana, the worst ride thief we've ever had. My last post about her is here.The bottom line is I avoid going to HQ like it's the plague. The problems with going to HQ are as follows:

1. I have to park several blocks away because the owner likes to come out of the HQ building and examine the car. If the car's not there, no spot inspection. Some days he's so nice it's like he's my grandfather, telling me he's glad I'm driving for the company (as an independent contractor). The next time, he'll run a finger along the quarter panel of the taxi and give a lecture about keeping the cars clean.

2. Often an office worker, usually a woman in her low 20s, will come out with a clipboard and "inspect" the car. No offense intended against young women, but y'all don't know the first thing about cars, and I don't like having my taxi evaluated by somebody with zero knowledge.

3. Often an office worker will be sent out to administer a "sniff test." I'm not making this up. A young lady will walk out and up to the car, open a door, stick in her head and sniff. If it's not up to the fragrancy standards of the corporation, the driver will be asked to clean the inside of the car and buy some air freshener. This is humiliating and I don't wish to be subjected to it -- and my car is always clean and always has a new air freshener.

4. If it's inspection day, you may get wrangled into helping clean or even repair cars. I don't mind helping out as part of the team, but if I can avoid it, I certainly will. I drive, I don't twist wrenches.

5. The "uniform". Two years ago a uniform policy was thrown at us, which basically means we need to look neat, clean, and professional. I think the official rules call for black pants and a solid color shirt with a collar. No hats unless they have no writing or promotional stuff on them. I generally conform, but I wear a San Diego baseball cap. Some days the owner sees me with it and he says nothing. Other days I get scolded. I don't take scolding very well.

Our half-joke is that the owner is bi-polar. We even try to gather intelligence as to his mood before we make an appearance at HQ. If another driver just came from there, we'll ask him about the owner's mood. If it's good, we'll rush over to do some paperwork or whatever sort of HQ business might be outstanding. It's much better to appear at HQ when the owner is in a good mood.

6. My "new" taxi, which my cab partners and I got last September with 212,000 miles on it, has had front suspension work done on it at least four times. The owner let slip a comment to me that he thinks my partners are hard on the car. They're not. Generally speaking, whatever happens to the car gets blamed on the drivers. I don't actually hold this against the owner, because we have several meatballs driving for us who have created a bad impression for all of us.

7. Any time spent at HQ is time I'm not making money on the streets. It's a waste of time.

8. Some of the office workers, like Louie, our female, night dispatcher nicknamed for the Danny DeVito character in the TV show Taxi, is in such a foul mood all the time it's a chore to be in the same room with her. This is to be avoided.

9. Our HQ is in a busy part of San Diego. Traffic is usually a mess.

If I have to visit HQ, which is usually only for dropping off work requests for the cab, I do it at 3 a.m., when only a single dispatcher is there. This strategic timing avoids all of the problems I listed above.

Also, Ana has been a model cab driver for over a month. Somebody must have leaked to her that problems were headed her way if she didn't improve. I may not have to do anything.

As Mark's World Turns -- new info

2008-06-26T00:33:00.000-07:00

I've been following and reporting on Mark's World, as the drivers in my taxi zone call it. Here's the most recent post. THE NEW INFO: The girl and the new guy moved back East. They're gone.

To bring you up to speed a bit, Mark is a very nice guy who regularly takes taxis short distances. We don't like short rides much, but Mark is such a good guy (and he tips!), I enjoy driving him. He's a waiter at two different nearby restaurants, and he's trying to start his own, home-based graphic arts business. Most of our regulars are DUI cases, so they can't drive, at least temporarily. Given Mark's heavy drinking, I suspect that's the situation with him, but he's never said one way or the other.

Many months ago Mark broke up with his live-in girlfriend. Neither could afford to move out right away, so he had a strange time living with her while they were broken up. The reason for the breakup is the girl cheated with another regular customer, a guy who is a bartender at two different restaurants. Both men are heavy drinkers, but I'd say the new guy drinks a lot more than Mark. I can honestly say that Mark never said a single negative word about her, and I know he was upset and hurting, as you can imagine. He just shrugs and says, "It wasn't meant to be. She's a nice girl."

A few months ago I drove the girlfriend and her new man, Mark's nemesis, and learned she was pregnant.

Mark is working on a new girl, who I haven't met yet. Until he gets something going, this soap opera has stalled! I hear this new girl lives in our taxi zone, so I'll probably drive her alone sooner or later, if she doesn't have her own wheels, and maybe I can put in a good word for Mark. On second thought, is a recommendation from a cab driver going to help or hurt the guy? "Oh, well, the cabbie says your a good guy, so let's date!"

Coronado Bridge and the Voice of San Diego

2008-06-26T00:22:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning to include Voice of San Diego on my sidebar for some time -- it's there now, in the San Diego section. I recently received an email from a writer who has published several articles there, Randy Dotinga, regarding the Coronado Bridge. He has done a number of interesting stories on the bridge (such as this one). Check out the site, and Randy's articles. I think you'll find them interesting.

My own posts that mention the Coronado Bridge are here.

I got hit by a pedestrian

2008-06-25T23:41:00.000-07:00

I picked up a man and a woman going to a Navy base. I turned a corner to find a guy standing in the middle of my lane. As I was making the turn, I saw an oncoming car turning with me, who would take the left lane, leaving me no option to change lanes to avoid the ped. Since I was driving 2mph for the turn, I just stopped the car.

Then we, my customers and I, saw two guys sprinting, racing each other, from somewhere down the road towards the guy standing in front of my hood. Apparently it was a foot race to reach the solitary, stationary guy. One of the racers tripped and fell and careened into the bumper of my car, hitting his head. He had been sprinting flat out. I was watching the guy standing still, to judge his reaction. I saw a look of horror on his face, so I put the car in park and reached for my seatbelt. I was 0% at fault, since the vehicle wasn't moving, but I still needed to get out and help, and maybe call an ambulance. Though the guy is a complete dumbass, he still deserved help.

Before I got my seatbelt undone, the guy jumped up, laughing, and him, his fellow racer, and the stationary guy all walked away into the night. My customers had all kinds of comments, like: idiot, what's wrong with them?, and, my personal favorite: "We're witnesses, it's not your fault. You weren't even moving."

Gas prices $4.48 in San Diego

2008-06-25T22:58:00.001-07:00

The cheapest grade of fuel at the cheapest station in San Diego is $4.48 right now. I know Paradise Driver will probably laugh at my angst, but we're spending a literal fortune on fuel, and the ends aren't meeting, so to speak. I also know Europeans who read this will laugh, but it has to be considered that the American system is to keep taxes relatively low so that citizens can make their own lives, as opposed to a more socialized system, where control is largely kept by the state (public transportation, security, etc.). European gas prices are extremely high because of taxes, something Americans probably won't stand for. It was, after all, a tax dispute that resulted in the formation of the USA.

So when I popped open the San Diego Union-Tribune last week to see a front page article about the problems local taxi drivers are facing, my jaw almost hit the floor. You mean, somebody actually gives a damn about taxi drivers? Bus drivers belong to a union and have guaranteed raises and benefits. We get nothing. Trucking companies and airlines can raise prices and ad fuel surcharges at will to cope with soaring fuel costs, taxis cannot. We have to convince a government committee to meet and agree to a rate increase. And then what usually happens is the cab company owner simply raises lease rates to steal the increase in money (I mention this in more detail below).

I think it's especially interesting in San Diego -- the MTS regulates public transportation in the metro area, including buses, trolleys, and taxis. The main website is sdcommute.com. Visit that sight to see how much information is available to the public about buses and trolleys, and then see what's available for taxis. Can you say conflict of interest? I see the buses and trolleys being pushed constantly on billboards and radio and TV ads (and promotions). Taxis are a bad option for the public, according to the MTS (I base that on the advertising and their website), where our competition, buses and trolleys, are great. Taxi regulation, and the folks administering it, needs to be separate from competing forms of transportation.

Except for one big, glaring error, the Union-Tribune story was very good, and the things the MTS is supposedly going to do will help tremendously. I'll mention the error at the end of the excerpt:

Kasem, who supports his wife and three young sons on the roughly $1,500 a month he clears in fares and tips as a driver with Orange Cab, said the $70 a day he spends on fuel has taken a big bite out of his already strained budget.

[...]

The MTS is considering a proposal to ease the gas-pump pain with a $1 gas surcharge per trip for city cabs, as well as for taxis that operate out of the airport, which have a different fare schedule.

The agency also expects to raise basic maximum rates from $2.60 to $2.80 for the starting fare, and increase the per-mile rate by 30 cents to $3.10 per mile for city taxis in areas regulated by the MTS, including San Diego, El Cajon, Imperial Beach, La Mesa, Lemon Grove, Poway and Santee.

[...]

Dan Chang, a San Diego cabdriver who splits a $600 weekly lease on a taxicab with another driver, said the rate increase and fuel surcharge could help.

Then again, they could also prove a Catch-22, he said.

Price increases tend to kill local business for a while, Chang said. And there's nothing to stop the 475 MTS taxicab permit holders, who lease cabs to drivers, from raising lease prices, which would dilute or eliminate the benefit.

Raising lease prices is a real problem. In the 3.5 years I've been driving cab, we've had two meter rate increases, immediately followed by a lease increase -- the cab company took our extra money from us. Nobody in our company has had a raise in 15 years or so. This time will be no different. I just started a pool among drivers. Will it be 30 days, 60 days, or 90 days before the owner takes our money? I wonder how the owner would feel if I organized a strike for our taxi zone? I believe I could pull it off. Hopefully it won't come to that.

Going from $2.60 per mile to $3.10 plus a $1 fuel surcharge will be very late, but very welcome -- at least until the money gets taken from us.

Here's the big error in the article. "Kasem", at the beginning of the article, says he spends $70 a day on fuel, and clears about $1500 per month. This is a massive lie. All the drivers in our zone laughed. We also appreciated that this Kasem guy is trying to make our plight seem worse than it actually is.

Here's the breakdown. Nearly all drivers in the San Diego metro area are at about 22-25%. That means we spend a daily amount on gas that is 22-25% of what the meter says. At $70 in gas, I know instantly the guy is making $350-400 per day in fares, and the average driver works six days per week. This guy is clearing $4k per month, after fuel and lease, easily. Easily. For him to say he's making $1500 is completely absurd. Our taxi zone has been extremely busy for two straight months now, and I never top $50 per shift in fuel, and sometimes I'm moving non-stop, earning as much as $400 gross, $300 net. Kasem is indeed a teller of tall tales.

I appreciate Penni Crabtree's work in putting the article together. There are hundreds of cabbies citywide who think she's a hero, but she'll need to speak to more than one driver next time to get a picture of earnings and expenses.

Ain't takin' this no more

2008-06-25T22:52:00.000-07:00

I left early last Wednesday night out of frustration. It was busy, but I was the Town Clown, rarely getting a fare larger than $10. But it was worse than that. My first four rides not only declined a tip, they didn't have the full fare! I've never had four of those in a row.

The first fare was $7.20, and the guy professed to having only $7 on him, and, of course, he was "very sorry." I'm sorry, too, I told him, "Now get out."

Once I was called to a seedy apartment building, waited five minutes and called it a no-go. I got two miles away and was called back. The dispatcher said she explained to the customer that she was supposed to be outside waiting for the cab. The second time she actually was.

The cab driver I call Sunshine piped in on the radio: "Start your meter now, before you get there." The guy is quiet as a mouse unless there's something negative to say, then he's a magpie.
The fare was $5.20, and the ~~bitch~~ young lady gave me a five dollar bill and then spent what seemed like an hour digging a quarter out of her pocket. I couldn't speak, I was so pissed off.

After five hours working I had had a lot of rides, and only two broke $10, and I think I'd been tipped once. I finally gave up and went home. Thank goodness I have a job where I can disappear into the night when the barbarians are at the gates.

A failing heart

2008-06-25T22:48:00.000-07:00

I got a nice run out to Spring Valley, up in the hills. The fare was $48.20, and I nearly had to resort to bullying to get $50 in all. When the guy, a young dude in his 20s, gave me $50, I said, "I can have all of it, or you want some back?" He said: "Oh, man, it was a long ride." I pulled out two singles and held them out, and he said, "You can keep them."

I went to the bottom of the hill (Jamacha Rd), and went through the drive-thru at Rally's, and ordered a medium coke. At the window I handed over $2.04 and got a huge bucket of soda. The damned thing wouldn't fit in my cup holder. A medium can't possibly be that large, can it? Not to dwell, but who the H drinks that much high fructose corn syrup? No wonder Americans are fatter than hell.

As I'm struggling to find a place to set a cup of soda almost as large as a coffee can, a woman came to the passenger window and asked me to "drive up the hill" for $5. It was three blocks for $5. I finished paying for the soda and was about to explain that I'm going the other way -- I'm one of few cabbies who won't pick up out of my zone. Then I noticed she was gasping for breath -- an elderly African American woman. "I can usually walk, but my chest pains are coming, and I can't make it."

It struck me at that moment that I would do anything for this woman, but there was nothing to do! Why can't medical science fix this woman? We can place a man on the moon, but we can't fix a simple pump? I knew as I drove up the hill, listening to her gasping breath, that she would not live much longer.

Her: My chest pains (gasp) are bad tonight.

Me: Do you want me to take you to a hospital?

Her: No, I can make it (gasp). I have nitro medicine at home (gasp).

Me: If you change your mind, just say so, and I'll get you to a hospital.

We made it, and she got out and handed me $5, which I declined. After I drove away I pulled over and turned on the light to inspect the back seat. I do that as a matter of routine, to see if any personal items got left behind; it's easier to return them now than later. There was a five dollar bill on the back seat.

Are you ready for some football?

2008-06-25T22:33:00.001-07:00

I introduced (a) football to our taxi zone about four months ago. I've been meaning to mention it here, but I keep forgetting. On a whim I bought a $4, foam football from Wallgreens one afternoon. On the cab stand I tossed it to another driver. Several drivers have been playing catch for months now, every time a lull in business allows us the opportunity.

The $4 ball quickly landed on a 2nd floor condo balcony and was never seen again. Jim, our youngest and perhaps fittest driver made a brief attempt to scale a drain pipe (it was 3 a.m.) in an attempt to recover the ball, but cops were patrolling the area. Cops around our area have a notable lack of understanding and humor. I've never had a problem with them, but their reputation is no-nonsense. I decided a $4 loss was no big deal.

So I bought another $4 ball, and we still have that. The glossy, orange coating on the ball is completely gone, so it's now just a crumbly piece of foam in the rough shape of an American football. We're getting good, too. Even a few guys who were born and raised in Mexico, and so have never touched a football, love throwing it around. I had to show them how to hold and throw the ball, and how to balance the forward toss with the downward release to get the spiral.

Then I bought a real, leather ball for $20 at Target. It's a junior size NFL ball -- junior because I have fairly small hands, and throwing a full-size ball is tough.

Bringing the footballs to our zone has been a huge hit. I had no idea how popular it would be. Everyone loves it. We alternate the lightweight, foam ball with the much heavier leather ball, which is kind of entertaining. After throwing the leather ball, the foam one feels like tossing a feather. People walking along the sidewalks often join in for a while, and customers often join a circle for a few throws before we get in the car and leave.

Gotta love the ER

2008-06-25T22:28:00.000-07:00

When a security guard at the local emergency room, with an unhappy look on his face and rubber gloves on his hands, stuffs Cousin It into the back of the cab, you know it's a bad one. The guy I had the other night looked foul, smelled foul, and he was all hair. It was long, greasy, gray hair, with matching mustache and beard, and only his beady eyes and a small nose were peaking through. He had to move his head around to look at me through all the hair. I couldn't help but smile at his appearance, and then when the smell hit me, the smile disappeared.

When he was situated in the back seat, the security guard handed me a voucher which stated SVDP as the destination. No idea what that is, and the guard didn't know, either. Cousin It said "Trolley Court." I had never heard of that, so I asked if it was the 12th and Imperial trolley station. He mumbled in the affirmative.

My radio call:

Me: 92

Dispatch: 92

Me: I've got a live one to 12th and Imperial.

Dispatch, chuckling: 10-4

Another driver: I've got some spray if you need it.

Me: That's okay. I'm going to roll through a car wash with the windows down.

I said that with Cousin It in the car, but he was barely aware of the world, so it really didn't matter. I couldn't picture him working a telephone to make a complaint.

When I was getting close to his destination, on the only road that leads in there (National to Imperial, then left), I saw that roads were closed and traffic was logjammed. A Padres game had just let out of Petco Park, which is one block from the trolley station, and traffic from the game was fierce. A traffic cop rudely told me I had to turn right, going east on Imperial, directly away from Cousin It's destination. I went one block and then pulled over and helped him out of the car.

The guy got angry and said it wasn't where he wanted to be, and I tried to explain what happened, even though he saw and heard for himself. Not wanting to repeat myself, I got him out of the car and left.

I am not a stalker

2008-06-25T22:24:00.000-07:00

We have a regular customer who likes to drive around, then return home. He's such a weirdo that I've been paying other drivers to take him. The fee to avoid him: $5. I've mentioned this before. It's sort of a commodities market, invented by yours truly, where the commodity is idiocy.

Last night I was alone on the stand nearest the weirdo's apartment, so there was nobody around to take him off my hands. I picked him up and he wanted to drive around. I usually ignore him completely, not answering his questions unless they're pertinent to the drive, and then only with a nod or a simple yes or no.

But this time I paid attention to him, and sure enough, his drives have purpose. He's stalking somebody he has a crush on. He asked me to drive very slowly down one block, and I watched him look intently at a darkened house. He mumbled to himself, "His truck is there, but no lights are on."

Then he asked to go around the block and drive by again. After we went by the house for the third time, he asked me to stop the car and back up slowly. When I refused, he tried to get angry. "This taxi won't be used to stalk anyone," I explained to him. I told him to pick a destination or we'd return to his apartment. He was mute, so we went back to his place, where he paid me -- with a $2 tip -- without saying a word. Is it any wonder I pay to avoid people like this?

I always wonder if these characters suspect that a lot of haggling goes on, and hard cash exchanged, just to avoid them.

Albertson's blues (unfounded)

2008-06-25T22:21:00.000-07:00

I was belled to Albertson's, and it was a time of day when an elderly lady usually calls for a cab. I don't know her name, but I've had her a few times. She is a real handful, for the following reasons:

+ mean as a wolverine
+ smells bad
+ poor sight and hearing
+ is always cold; insists on heat, even when it's hot outside!
+ has a lot of groceries, which the cabbie gets to load into the car, unload, and carry up two flights of stairs to a ratty little apartment
+ ten cent tip

So I slowly ambled over to Albertson's, being in no hurry for a humiliating torture session, and found a large tour bus blocking the entrance. If the lady was there, she would not be able to see me. I might have to park a long ways away and walk in -- more problems. Then a guy in a shirt and tie ran up to me and said the bus was going to try backing up because he was bottoming out, and could I please move? I could. I was wondering who "tries" to back up? Shouldn't he just back up?

To make room for the bus, I had to back up through a parking lot full of moving vehicles and pedestrians (who don't look out for large, metallic objects that could possibly run them over and flatten them like pancakes -- if I had half a peso for every ped who was careless with their life I'd be a very rich man.).

When I had positioned myself well clear of the bus, which was, of course, backing out at .0001 mph, a young black guy with a single bag of groceries came running up to the car.

Him: I need to go to the 32nd St. Naval Base.

Me: Did you call?

Him: Yes.

Me: Man am I glad to see you.

He gave me an odd look, so I explained that most calls to that grocery store at that hour are pure hell, and the fact that he was ambulatory and anything but a pain in the ass was pure magic to me. He was mildly amused, but didn't seem to understand. Maybe it's a cabbie thing.

The moral of the story: Take each bell as it comes, it may not be a complete turd.

Corona time

2008-06-25T22:19:00.000-07:00

We have three Mexican-American drivers who are friends outside of work. When one of them goes home, announcing 10-21 on the radio, one of the others will say: "Corona time." Last night the first one came back with: "Tecate."

Another driver: Bud Light.

Another: Guiness.

Me: Sam Adams.

Another: Molson.

Another: Labatt's Blue.

Another: Pabst Blue Ribbon.

Another: Noooooo!

Another: Rum and coke.

Another: Scotch, neat.

Another: Scotch on the rocks.

(etc.)

Eventually the dispatcher came on the radio and began yelling for everyone to stop.

Broken cars, anger management

2008-06-25T22:11:00.000-07:00

Jim had his weekly outburst on the radio. He's like most of us -- calm and collected, even when something is frustrating him, but a few nights ago he let loose on the radio. I love that kind of stuff. I don't like people who constantly tie up the radio with useless nonsense, because people need a clear radio to conduct business, but a nice, angry outburst always brings a smile to my lips. Jim lets loose about once a week, and we joke about it with him all the time.

We were busier than all get-out, and Jim's car breaks down. This is, obviously, the most aggravating time to lose a car, because on a busy night you end up losing $75 an hour, or so. I never heard what happened to the car, but Jim was off the radio for three hours. He probably had to wait for the tow truck, go to the office, and then wrangle a backup car from the owner.

Eventually I heard him on the radio again with a different car number -- a backup car. About two hours later had just cleared down in Chula when I heard the last bit of an outburst. "No I won't wait with the car! You can come and get the piece of crap! I'm going home."

The backup broke down, too! We didn't hear from Jim for the rest of the night.

A first for the ER

2008-06-16T21:57:00.000-07:00

I do a lot of ER pickups, we all do, and I've posted a number of the experiences. I always ask: "What brought you to the ER?" That's probably rude, but I'm always too curious about how people end up in emergency rooms.

Last night somebody finally said: "None of your damned business." Does that mean gonorrhea treatment? I'll keep quizzing the ER unfortunates in the future. I've heard some very interesting stories. Be sure to check out the ER and paramedic blogs listed on my sidebar. Things range from funny to outlandish in emergency rooms.

The Iraqi and the new guy

2008-06-16T21:50:00.000-07:00

We have one remaining Iraqi, and he's already made an enemy of our new Brazilian. That didn't take long. Ali is a ride thief and a fairly gruff guy. Despite that I really like him. He's Kurdish, from Irbil, and he's a really interesting person.

Good old Ali was up to his usual antics, swiping a ride from Vitao, who watched him do it. The new guy speaks very little English, is about 45, and is very businesslike. He is balding and professional, wearing a shirt and tie every night. He also has a big-screen portable GPS, another sign he's a serious guy. We all like him a lot. On his first day he came to me and said: "I am new here. Tell me if I do wrong. I need to learn." You can't not like a guy such as him.

So Vitao parks with a group of us on a cab stand, during a lull in business, and gets out to speak with us.

Him, in strained English: You know this Ali person?

Me: What'd he do?

Him: I want punch heem een face.

Me, smiling: Really?

Him: But I beeg person, he eez (searching for the English word) leetle person. I would keel him, so I (searching again) can not do that.

Me, smiling bigger: No, probably not.

Him: He stole! Een front of me!

Another country heard from, and another driver angry about Ali.

As a side note, not three nights ago I had to clean up one of Ali's messes. It wasn't entirely his fault, though. I got a bell from the company owner. He doesn't come on the radio unless we're really busy or there's a problem, and we weren't that busy -- so I knew somebody did something. My instructions were to go to a liquor store and pick up a guy in a black t-shirt.

Owner: Calm him down if he needs it, inform him he will get a $6 discount, and accept his credit card.

Me: 10-4.

I got there, and a black-shirted guy and a friend got in the back.

Him: Airport please, and I'm sorry you had to get involved in this.

Me: All they said was to pick up a guy in a black shirt and give him a discount. What happened?

Him: You know this Ali guy?

Me, choosing my words carefully: Yeah. He's a real character.

Him: First he refused to take my credit card, and brought me to the liquor store to use the ATM, which I agreed to. Then when I told him to stop the meter while I was inside, he refused.

Me: And he doesn't use deodorant. Did you notice that?

That's true, by the by. Both customers laughed. I knew I had "calmed him down." Every driver now has to take cards, and the owner doesn't like it when we try to tell people we don't take them. Since the owner doesn't know everything about what happens on the streets, we often lie about it, but poor old Ali got caught out on this one.

But we don't have to turn off the meter. We can, and nearly always do, charge waiting time. I never turn mine off; I would have done exactly as Ali had done. I probably would have taken the guy's card, though. It depends. If somebody asks in a begging tone, "Do you take cards, or do you need cash," I'll insist on cash. If they say, "I hope you take cards, because that's all I've got," then I'll take it.

They were happy, and I'll turn in a $6 receipt against my next lease payment. In cases like these, the owner absorbs the discount.

As Mark's World Turns

2008-06-16T21:46:00.000-07:00

I've mentioned this little soap opera in our taxi zone before. Twice in the last three days I drove the guy who stole Mark's girl. The first time the girl was along for the ride, too. They're a couple of dim bulbs, boy. The girl was a fool to give up Mark, who is Albert Einstein compared to this guy. The happy couple were talking amongst themselves about a party they had attended the night before.

Her: I can't believe Jamie paid cash for his house. That has to be a $500,000 house.

Him: He must have done it to brag.

Her: What do you think he did, bring it in a trash bag?

Him: A big suitcase.

People, these customers think that when you say you have paid cash for a house, you brought paper money.

The second time I drove the guy, who is really a nice guy despite his dim wits (even Mark, who lost his live-in girlfriend to him, admits the guy is fundamentally nice), he was on his way home from the bar he tends. He needed me to stop at an Albertson's grocery store.

Him: I have to get one of those little chickens, the ones that are pre-cooked.

Me: A rotisserie chicken?

Him: Yeah.

Me: Those are good.

Him: I don't like 'em, but I got my new girlfiend pregnant, and she's having cravings. Gotta get her what she wants.

I laughed. It's safe to say he doesn't use condoms, but Mark does -- he lived with her for at least a year, and no baby! I wonder if the soon-to-be father knows that at least 20 cab drivers are closely following the strange love triangle between him, this girl, and poor old Mark? Do you think he knows his love life is on the web?

As for Mark, he's working on a new girl. I drove him a few days ago from the restaurant (he's a waiter) to his house. He was with a girl, and we dropped her off first. On the way to his place, he said he's working on that girl's roommate, who couldn't come out drinking that particular evening. He said he'd let me know how it goes. And when I know, you'll know.

UPDATE: I just learned from another driver that the pregnant girl and the new boyfriend moved to the East Coast.

Intelligence

2008-06-16T21:41:00.000-07:00

I've mentioned this a few times in the past, but I'd like to say it again. Working the streets gives one an interesting perspective of a city. We get a feel for what's going on, and where.

For instance, a few weeks ago I brought two officers to the Stennis on the Coronado Naval Air Station (Stennis is a Nimitz class aircraft carrier -- one of the big boys). I had heard from other, enlisted, sailors that the ship was due to leave in a day or two. They're not supposed to leak that kind of info, but it happens. I knew it was coming because for two straight nights I had Stennis guys (and girls, too) who had no curfew. The night it changes to a curfew, which they complain about and discuss, means the ship will leave the next morning.

While bringing the officers back, one man and one woman, the man asked what was happening in San Diego in mid-June. I told him I hadn't heard of anything. He said he was asking because they tried to reserve a hotel room for that time frame, but every room in the city is booked.

Now I know the Stennis is returning in mid-June, which will give us a slight bump in income. When 5-7000 people show up on a single ship, all needing transportation, you feel it. Also, I know something spectacular is happening in mid-June, probably a massive business conference at the downtown Convention Center. I'll check online about that later. Meantime, I know that when all rooms in the city are booked for a week, I'll have several nights of $400 or more, which is a real boon. I'm looking forward to that.

I hope the convention isn't for "action sports", skateboarding and surfing, or comic books. We make almost nothing on those demographics. It's a simple fact of life that people who have metal piercings in their face don't have a nickel to spend on a taxi (and when they do take a cab, they find something to complain about and usually "forget' to tip). We make more money on 1/10th as many doctors or lawyers.

UPDATE: The big things happening in San Diego in mid June are the U.S. Open golf tournament, which ended this afternoon with a Tiger Woods victory. Also, Bio International is having its annual convention here. And, the U.S.S. Nimitz came into port recently, and I'm still eagerly awaiting the Stennis. Also, the George Washington is here for an extended stay to repair fire damage. The taxi recession is officially over, at least temporarily.

Gas prices

2008-06-16T21:40:00.000-07:00

People in Europe, try to understand that Americans are entitled to cheap gasoline. I'm only kidding, but to see gas go from just over a buck to $4.50 for the cheapest grade of fuel in fifteen years is pure, unadulterated bullshit. I've been lax in calling the cab company owner to inquire about a rate increase, but I'm going to do it this week.

We went from 10% cars to 25% cars in two years. What I mean by that is: if we made $200 on the meter during a shift two years ago, it would cost about $20 in gas to fill the tank, which is 10%. Now it costs $40 or $50 on that same $200 earned. It galls me that every other form of transportation in America can ad fuel surcharges, luggage fees, or simply raise rates at will, but not taxis. We have to appeal to a committee at the county level, and it's nearly impossible to get them to agree to an in crease.

Blacklisted

2008-06-16T21:38:00.000-07:00

After just over three years of driving cab, I now have an address that I will not respond to. Four of the last five calls to that house resulted in no-gos. They're young kids in their 20s who throw parties several times a week, and car 92 no longer goes there. Last night was the last time.

I just decided, as I'm writing this, that I'm going to anonymously call the police on their parties whenever I become aware of them. I'll be an angry neighbor. Somebody has to get even with them, and it may as well be me.

Wildcatting

2008-06-16T21:29:00.000-07:00

Last night I caught an out-of-zone cab picking up my bell (wildcatting). And it was in a residential area. I don't know how he could have been driving around that area. We have caught enemies in our area with hand-held scanners before, so this guy might have been listening to our radio dispatches, and then racing us to our bells (pickups). Basically, if an out-of-zone cab is in our area, they'll be on the main thoroughfares, dropping at restaurants and shops, and then hoping to do a little wildcatting on their way out. This guy might have been dropping at a residence, and by pure luck saw my guy. More likely he had a scanner.

I was two blocks away, and it was 1:30 a.m. (dark), when I saw the enemy zip by perpendicular to me. I immediately got on my radio and said: "Who is picking up my bell? I see you." I said that because it might have been one of our guys. We have some slimey thieves working for us (like Ana).

I jammed the gas and may have blown a stop sign, but not officially, and caught up to him. It was an enemy cab. I pulled about a quarter inch off his bumper as he waited at a red light, and switched on my high beams as a way of saying, "Hello, dirtbag." To my surprise, the back door opened, and a youngish kid got out and came to my car. He got in and told me the other guy was apologetic and nice, and insisted he get out and ride with me.

For about two blocks I was smiling at my victory. Then the kid told me where he was going. Only two more blocks! The enemy cab driver suckered me! I wrote down the guy's cab company and car number. I'll have an opportunity to pay him back eventually. I always get even with my enemies.

Silver Strand stupidity

2008-06-16T21:26:00.000-07:00

I've begun to hate driving out to Loew's Coronado. It's a nice resort/spa on the Silver Strand highway; the strand is a thin strip of land that connects Coronado with Imperial Beach to the south. Every time I get on the strand, I'm surrounded by people who won't speed up when the limit goes from 45 to 65.

I think I'll take my personal car out there on my day off -- you know, a vehicle that doesn't have my boss's phone number on it -- just so I can flip people off and put my window down and inform them that their existence is infuriating. Why do people drive 10 to 20 mph below the speed limit in the fast lane? These people should be shot.

'Peds'

2008-06-16T21:20:00.000-07:00

"Peds" means pedestrians, and I hate them. At least twice a week a full-grown human being walks in front of my car without looking. Note that the car is the largest passenger sedan available in the United States of America. Also note that it's canary yellow in color. And please note that it never drives above the speed limit in residential areas or busy commercial areas.

How do these people survive to adulthood? I've had people in their 20s, 80s, and everywhere in between just stroll on out into traffic. What gives? I have a stock line I use with my customers for these occasions: "I don't care if the guy wants to commit suicide, I just wish he'd do it on somebody else's taxi."

The $7 idiot

2008-06-16T21:13:00.000-07:00

There is something to be said for a job that trains you to look at a complete stranger and, before a word is uttered, know his character. I recognized an idiot just by the way he looked at me and walked across the street to my taxi. He told me where he was going, and I knew it would be a $7 ride.

En route I discover he's extremely drunk (I had picked him up outside a dive bar), and he was lamenting an $82 bar tab. He was quite a small, skinny guy, too. How could he have swilled down $82 in beer? Unless maybe he included some bar friends on the tab? I always pay attention to people who say how much they spent, which happens surprisingly often, so I can bring it up when they decide not to tip me. As in: "You have $82 to spend getting drunk, but can't spare a few dollars for a tip?" I never ask for a tip except when drunks are concerned. They won't complain to HQ.

To digress a bit, I recently discovered that when people are fallen down drunk, they can't read the meter, which just happens to be clearly and brightly lit. I told a drunk the fare was $22, when the meter said $7, and he gave me $22 and started to get out. I quickly told him I made a mistake, and gave him the correct change. I don't steal, but I wonder if any of our other drivers have tried this? I'll ask around.

Anyway, the $7 idiot tells me he needs an ATM, and then he'd like to stop by a 24-hr McDonald's. A $7 ride became a $15-20 ride, and I'm in better spirits. I stop at the curb in front of an ATM, and he gets out. When he returns to the car, he comes to my window instead of getting in. I already know what has happened, but I failed to fully grasp the depths of his idiocy.

Him: I lost my card.

Me: How much cash do you have?

Him: I lost my card.

Me, adopting the voice I use with toddlers: I heard you the first time. How much cash do you have?

Him: I think I left it at the bar.

Me: Hello?! How much cash do you have?

He opened his wallet, and I could see it was empty. I started the engine and drove off. I could hear, "Hey! Hey!" get fainter and fainter as I got farther away from the idiot.

Where do people like that come from? I've spent plenty of nights (long ago, I would like to mention) where I was wasted, and needed a cab. I was always courteous to the driver and I always had money.

Secret to winning friends: chocolate cake

2008-05-11T19:49:00.001-07:00

Last night I picked up at a KFC, actually it was a combination restaurant, with a KFC, Pizza Hut, and something else. I got the two guys, younger guys who were drunk, half way to their house, when one of them opened one of the bags of food.

Him: What the fuck is this?

Other guy: What?

Him: This isn't our food! We got the wrong food.

Other guy: What did we get?

Him: We made out. There's a lot of good stuff here, but what are we going to do with this?

He held up a chocolate cake with white icing, packaged in clear plastic. It said Pillsbury on it.

Me: I have a suggestion...

That chocolate cake was the best tip I had all night, and I mentioned it on the radio: "I just got an entire chocolate cake for a tip. How cool is that?" Another driver immediately said: "What's your 20?" He came straight over to my location and got the first piece. It didn't take long for the rest of us to polish it off.

A new market for idiots

2008-05-11T19:39:00.001-07:00

I may have developed something new in the taxi trade. We have a number of bad customers -- okay, I'll say it, they're idiots who should be smacked in the head -- and we cabbies are always getting creative in our efforts to avoid them. I've chronicled a lot of the games we play on the blog -- stuff like keeping track of their movements to make sure we're somewhere else when they're about to call, or claiming we have a flag or a flat tire just to get out of driving them.

My new idea involved Reed, who most of us call Rat Claw on account of his half-inch-long fingernails and slovenly appearance. I was first on the cab stand nearest the restaurant he dines at on Friday nights (this was last Friday), and I was watching the time. I know he usually calls HQ for a taxi around 10:15 p.m., and it was 10:05. Being first, I was unwilling to give up first place in line, but I was considering vacating anyway, just to avoid him. Some things are more important than money!

Before I could decide, I got the bell on the radio. I complained loudly, and several drivers offered their condolences, in person on the stand, and a couple made funny comments on the radio. "What are you going to do with all that money?" Reed's rides are $5.60, and he usually tries to pay $5. I offered to pay the next guy in line to take him, and he took Reed off my hands for $5! I was willing to go to $10, but I didn't have to. He thought he was getting a good deal (I guess he's flat broke and desperate for money), and so did I. I explained to the dispatcher that the next guy offered to take him, and please keep me first in line for bells. No problems there.

Several drivers have now purchased idiots from me. I'll pay hard cash to avoid an awful stench, wandering and incoherent conversation, or a really short ride. It's worth the money, especially if I don't lose my place in line.

A good deed

2008-05-11T19:32:00.000-07:00

I did my good deed for the ~~year~~ ~~month~~ day. We had a lot of drunks last night. It was Saturday night and the city was very busy with wedding receptions at hotels, plus the bars were packed from one end of town to the other. Somewhere in the madness I found a digital camera. It was a small, black, Kodak, with nothing on the outside to ID the owner. So I turned it on and looked at the photos. All black people, and pictures of the inside of a navy ship. I searched my memory and realized I had driven only one carload of blacks, and since I forgot to keep a trip sheet last night, I had to try to remember where I had brought them.

They had gone to Chuey's restaurant, which is an 18-and-up nightclub on Saturday nights. The next time I drove by that area, which is under the Coronado Bridge on the San Diego side, I cruised by the club. Amazingly, the same guys were on the curb trying to hail a taxi. They got in and one of them was asking about a lost camera. He described it and so got it back. He was happy, and while I was there I did some wildcatting (picking up outside my zone) and made a cool $25. I don't wildcat too often, as the $2400 fine (allegedly) frightens me a bit, but I didn't see the sense of leaving them there when they wanted a ride.

Taxis in Dubai and Hong Kong

2008-05-11T19:26:00.000-07:00

Last night I drove a man and woman who are in the U.S. Navy. They're in port for a few days and they commented how nice I am and my taxi. Too many compliments, really, even about my good driving. What's the deal? I asked. They had recently been overseas, and took a lot of cabs in Dubai and Hong Kong, and here's what they said:

In Dubai "the cabbies are insane." They break every law imaginable, and it's somewhat frightening to ride with them, and it's also a lot of fun -- like being on a ride at Disneyland. The cabs there have a little black box near the meter that beeps whenever the car exceeds the speed limit. It's an annoying reminder to the driver that he needs to slow down. Some drivers let off the gas when it starts beeping, and some don't care. The Navy guy said he and his fellow servicemen often hand a driver a $20 bill and say: "Keep that thing beeping the whole way. We're in a hurry." They always oblige.

They also told me about a problem they had in Hong Kong. A driver had placed a small piece of tape over the decimal point on his meter, and when they got to a restaurant (from the port area), the fare was $15.00, presumably in Hong Kong money, but it looked like $150 on the meter. A shouting match ensued, and the navy people walked away from the cab without paying anything.

They told me after all the weird cabs, and cabbies, overseas, they were glad to be sitting in a large, clean, comfortable car being driven at the speed limit.

Military Sealift Command

2008-04-17T18:25:00.000-07:00

I drove somebody stationed on the Guadalupe, a vessel of the Merchant Marine. The formal name of this service is Military Seaflift Command. I told him he should be in HR for the cause -- he made a convincing case for joining. The pay, with overtime, is fairly good, plus you get to travel the world on a large ship. Similar to the Navy, room and board is included, which has allowed my customer to save a considerable sum of money. It's not so good for people with families and mortgages, but for someone like me, it sounds interesting.

I've driven a lot of people from these supply ships over the last few years. I've driven people from the Guadalupe, the Kaiser, and a few others. I ask each what they think of their jobs. To a person, all said they love it.

Update on Ana

2008-04-17T18:18:00.000-07:00

I still haven't had my meeting with the cab company owner to try to fix Ana's evil ways. It should happen next week. As a point of curiosity, complaining formally about another driver has to be handled delicately. If a driver complains about each small infraction he sees, other drivers could turn on him. I've been angry at Ana for months now, and so have other drivers. I also tested the waters by mentioning my plans to several drivers, and I have their support. The last thing I would want is to cure Ana just to find I was losing all my calls to vengeful drivers who think I'm a snitch. People are so angry about Ana that this won't be a problem.

Even though I'm known as "the normal one", an honest cabbie, the other drivers know I don't care what kind of games they play as long as it doesn't cost me money. In other words, it's the Wild West until money gets stolen from me, and everyone is okay with that attitude.

As Mark's World Turns

2008-04-17T17:55:00.000-07:00

We have a regular customer who goes from his apartment to one of two restaurants -- he's employed as a waiter at each -- or to a few different bars. All drivers know him, his name's Mark, and even though the rides are short, we enjoy driving him because he's a nice guy. Also, he tips fairly, which is normal for a fellow citizen who relies on tips.

We've gotten to know Mark well, including his trials and tribulations with other people in our taxi zone, as well as his love life. Mark's life is so much like a soap opera that we call bells to his apartment "As Mark's World Turns".

He has a live-in ex-girlfriend, and I've been driving him (and her) since they were together. I followed the breakup, and got to hear the details about how difficult it is to live with her even though Mark had caught her cheating with a bartender from one of the bars they frequent. I also know that bartender, as he's a regular customer. Before the breakup, I noticed Mark and the girl arguing a lot -- then the split. Then it was the bartender and the girl, and now they're arguing, too.

I predict the girl will be single again soon. Will Mark take her back when it happens? We'll have to start a pool on that.

I drove Mark last night, and he was in a good mood. He went from one of his jobs to his apartment. I asked him what kind of tips he gets from Reed, who eats on Wednesday nights at the one of the places Mark works. "He tips well," he said. Reed doesn't tip cabbies anything, and he often tries to pay less than the meter amount. What a bastard.

Reed is not Rainman

2008-04-17T17:49:00.000-07:00

I drove Reed tonight, and finally decided to ask him if the rumors about him are true. Is he the Rainman? Several drivers have said he used to work at the Navy as a cryptanalyst. Since he's dimwitted, the assumption is he's some kind of idiot savant. A previous post about Reed is here.

Me: You used to work for the Navy, right?

Him: For 25 years.

Me: You worked on computers? I'm just curious.

Him: Yeah, I was a data processor.

Me: Were you a cryptanalyst? A codebreaker?

Him: No, I was a computer operator.

Damn. I was hoping to take him to Vegas to count cards. I would even take Amtrak! Wapner at 7.

The bad part of driving Reed, which I've complained about before, is that he pretends he can't walk without "assistance." I've seen him walk just fine. It's a ploy for attention. I've been trying to get him to buy a cane for a long time, and while he's "thinking about it," he never actually gets one. Maybe he'll get one for Christmas -- we talked about taking up a collection among drivers last time around. They only cost $20.

Last night on the way to one of his three regular restaurants, he said he would need to stop at an ATM. This is a problem. I had already "assisted" him from his door into the cab, and made an excuse for him to sit in the back -- he's one of the weird ones who wants to sit in the front. He smells like urine, so in the back he went, complaint or no complaint. Also, his yellow fingernails are really long, and when he grabs my arm for "assistance," they dig into my skin. It's revolting. To make a long story short, I couldn't go through that four times -- into the car at his house, x2 for the ATM, and then out of the car and into the restaurant.

Also, I actually do take credit cards now, including ATM cards, but I didn't want his stench in the car any longer than necessary -- it takes a couple of minutes to hand write the credit card slip.

Me: You know, Reed, I've been driving you for years now. You're a good customer. This one's on me. We can skip the ATM.

Him: Thank you very much. That's very kind of you.

Me: Don't mention it.

Another receipt problem

2008-04-17T17:48:00.001-07:00

Some time after the Russian idiot (see post below), I drove a "normal" person -- a businessman. He went from a nice hotel to the Marriott Coronado. The fare was $19, and he asked for a receipt written for $33. I wrote out the receipt, with the amount blank, as he placed $30 on the arm rest. I handed him the receipt.

Him: I need you to fill in the amount, $33.

Me: You only gave me $30.

Him: The receipt is for work. (He's going to defraud his employer.)

Me: Do you want change back?

Him: Yes, $10.

Me: You're going to give me $1 extra, while you get $13 extra? Why don't we each take $7?

Him, agitated: Just put in $33.

I put in $5, with a line before and after the numeral. I gave him $11 back (no tip), and he got out in a huff. What a dumbass. If I'm going to join a conspiracy, even a small one, I need to get something out of it.

Still fighting the Cold War?

2008-04-17T17:46:00.000-07:00

Monday night I drove an idiot from Russia. Each time I was certain I'd seen the depths of the man's idiocy, he sank to new levels. It was a flag at a bus stop, which is always a bad sign. There's nothing wrong with bus riders, but somebody who intended to take a cab from the outset is always better. People who ride buses are pinching pennies, and that usually extends to the tip.

He was waving me down on a busy street, with heavy traffic, and red curbs all around. I waved back in acknowledgement, then took the next turn and waited just around the corner. I was about to give up when he appeared and jumped in the back.

"Why didn't you stop right away!?" he said. He was a small, skinny guy with a heavy Russian accent. I didn't answer the question. I don't answer toddlers when they ask why the sky is blue, either.

He wanted a ride about two miles away. Within a quarter mile he was complaining abuot my choice of routes. He normally takes the main street, he told me. I guess he didn't realize that during rush hour the main thoroughfare in that part of town is bumpber to bumper traffic, with a light on every single block.

Since it was so busy, I needed to take him by the fastest route so I could pick up my next fare, so I chose a side street that paralled the main one, but with no lights and no traffic. I explained all this to him, but he didn't quite grasp it. His English was perfect, so it was an IQ issue, not a language barrier. I finally said: "I'm too busy to take a long, slow route, so we're going this way."

The next complaint was about the bus system. He asked if I knew the schedule for bus 20 or 28, and whether they ran to his destination, which was a small park. I said I didn't know anything about buses. He went on and on, and I had to repeat two more times I don't know anything about bus schedules or routing.

When we arrived at the park the fare was $6.40. He asked for a receipt because he was "going to take it to the MTS and demand they pay" since the bus had never shown up. I made the mistake of saying I doubt they'll reimburse. After a bit of back and forth, I finally said, "I wish you luck on that," with a tone of finality.

He gave me $7 and said to keep the change -- the $.60 tip being true to form for a bus rider. I handed him a blank receipt, which is how 99.99999999999% of people want them. "You need to fill it out," he said. "Why?" I asked, having lost all patience. I could hear one great ride after another being called in on the 2-way radio. I had to get the idiot out of the car. "I could write anything on it," he said. There was no response to that. I adjusted the mirror and stared at him.

When he made another demand for me to hand write the ticket, I simply said: "Not for $.60." He got out of the car and I sped away. In the mirror I could see the characteristic bewildered look on his face.

Okay, maybe Vlad wasn't an idiot. He was probably so far out of his comfort zone he didn't know how to handle it -- a bus system that failed him, and riding in a cab. Still, if you're paralyzed with doubt and mistrust, you sort of have to go with the flow, and not fight every step of the way.

Inside story on Scooter

2008-04-14T01:27:00.000-07:00

Scooter is a regular customer; all of us drivers know him and like him, and not just because he gives $20 for a $7 fare. He's a hardcore alcoholic, and he's an entertaining drunk. Also, he drinks on the job (see this post).

Two days ago I got belled to the lawn and patio store where Scooter works, and picked up his co-worker, who I've driven before, but only a few times. Not surprisingly, he was drunk. They must have an employee bar at that place. For obvious reasons I'm not going to name the store.

Anyhow, the guy said his name was Tony, who is Scooter's friend and co-worker (and fellow boozehound). As I brought him to a hotel where he said his mother was staying, I asked Tony about something Scooter told me the last time I drove him -- he claimed he's a great golfer.

"Oh, yeah," said Tony, "he's excellent. If it wasn't for his arthritis, he might be a pro." Hmmm. Maybe it's true, and maybe not. What he said next had me laughing hysterically.

Tony: Scooter is Phase III right now.

Me: Phase III?

Tony: He's wasted, but he can still speak.

Me: That's 'Phase III'?

Tony: Phase V is when you get him at 2 (bar close time). He only gives $20 when he's Phase V.

Me: Phase IV is something in between?

They actually have a naming system for their level of drunkenness. Too funny. Also, Scooter has a favorite "last bar", and we drivers often learn that he's in there near bar close. If I pick up at that bar (which I'd like to remain anonymous), I might ask the customer if Scooter is inside. If he is, I'll try arrange it so I'm first on the cab stand near that bar, or parked in front, around 2 a.m. I like to get that $20. I could take a chance on a random stand, or make a play for the near-certain $20.

Two 'races'

2008-04-14T01:15:00.001-07:00

In the last week I've raced two cabbies, with two losses! I don't actually race, but within the limits of the law (technically), it's advantageous to arrive back in our zone before the other guy -- it lets you get in line faster to get another ride (obviously).

1. Two-cab call to a hotel in our zone, going to 5th & E in the Gaslamp Quarter. I cleared just before Sunshine, who was the 2nd cab on the call. I pulled out and drove my best route to the freeway, then back to our zone. I never saw Sunshine again, and assumed I was ahead of him. Before I got to our taxi zone I heard him call on the radio that he had arrived back. I don't know how the hell he did it! I looked at a map after I got onto a cab stand, and can't think of a route faster than mine. I had gone up 5th Ave to the freeway entrance just north of Cedar, then cruised on the freeway. Sunshine, being a psychotic, won't speak with anyone, so I can't ask him. It pains me that I'll never know how the S.O.B. beat me.

2. The other "race" was with Mike, car 105. It was another 2-cab call, this time to a residential address, and then to the Westgate hotel off Broadway in downtown San Diego. Again, I was first, but we both pulled off the curb at the same time, both going north for freeway entrances. The best, from the Westgate, is to get over onto 1st Ave, then go north to I-5.

After two blocks, I made a right, went a few blocks to first, then turned north. Mike turned right earlier. A block later (Ash St?), sitting at a red light, I adjusted my mirror to the day setting to get a good look behind, and I saw Mike waiting at a red, one block behind. At this point, drivers of good will give up the fight and acknowledge they lost, then just follow the leader back to our zone. It's a gentleman's agreement.

Not Mike, the son of a bitch.

In heavy, night-time traffic he zig-zagged through traffic until he was on my bumper with a half block before the freeway entrance. I had him boxed in, having watched his antics in the mirrors. I got very close to the car in front of me so he couldn't try anything adventurous, and kept close to the curb on the right so he couldn't try to squeeze through.

Just before we got to the freeway entrance, he jumped into the middle lane, zoomed up on my left, and then cut in front of me onto the entrance ramp. I honked and flashed my light, and keyed my mic a few times (it will make a clicking sound in his car). Unfortunately for me, he got so close that the only way to stop him from coming in would have been to collide. So he got in front of me! I expected him to back off and let me pass him on the freeway, now that he had had his fun, but he went *extraordinarily* fast all the way back to our zone. What an ass.

About two hours after the incident, we were on a cab stand together, standing outside the cars, smoking and talking like nothing had happened. But something did happen, and I'm going to repay him, plus interest, at the earliest opportunity.

Bringing down Ana

2008-04-14T01:06:00.000-07:00

Our worst ride thief, a female driver named Ana, a Serb, has made all the other drivers angry. I mentioned her before. We've never seen anything like her. Once we had a four-cab call at an upscale hotel, with me being No. 3 and Ana being No. 4. The people were taking a long time to come out, so we lined up in the order we were belled, except that Ana arrived last, went straight to the front of the line and took the first people to come out. As it turned out, that was a flag, and our 4-cab bell was a cancellation. Ana got the only people to come out, and the rest got nothing. And that's just the tip of the iceberg.

I finally got so mad I called the cab company owner to complain. I asked him to speak with her. He said we'll set up a meeting with the owner, myself, and Ana. What a hassle! I just want him to put the fear of God into her. Now I have to schedule a time to go to HQ, which will invariably be during the day, when I'm usually asleep. I'm going to follow through, because somebody has to stop Ana.

One thing I didn't tell the owner, and don't plan to: the meeting will be Ana's last chance. She either straightens up or the drivers will force her to quit. They'll steal every bell, and interfere with all of her radio transmissions. I've already spoken to her personally, and most of the other drivers have complained to her on the radio at various times, to no avail. The formal meeting will be her last chance and then it's curtains for the bitch!

Cool taxi toon

2008-04-14T00:54:00.000-07:00

Cartoon submitted by Octav Ungureanu, who does the Smoking Cool Cat blog from Bucharest. Thanks, Octav!

Drunk drama

2008-04-14T00:49:00.000-07:00

I was called to a liquor store to find two drunk guys arguing. One walked away in a huff, and the other came to my car. "Take good care of my friend, okay? Here's $20, will that get him downtown?" Yes, I told him. The guy lived in a condo tower downtown, and it would be about $16, so $20 would be fine.

Then the guy went after the one who walked away and talked him into the cab. Apparently he thought he was okay to drive, but he clearly wasn't. He could hardly walk. Eventually I got the go-head to leave and instead of making for the freeway entrance (5 north), he told me to head deeper into the residential area. He got out and made for a 1990s Jeep. I was debating whether to get out and talk him out of driving when the other drunk guy drove up in an old VW bus.

Major drama ensued. There was yelling, cursing, and a debate about how to determine when a person is too drunk to drive. Meanwhile, I dropped the car into Drive and slowly idled away into the night -- with $20 for my troubles.

Fuel for half price

2008-04-07T00:01:00.000-07:00

I had the ball joints replaced on the taxi two days ago. When I picked it up I gave the assistant mechanic, who had worked on the car, a $10 tip. He pointed to the gas gauge, which showed just under full. He said he only drove 10 miles on the inspection ride after the work. It made me think of other drivers who have picked up their cars with half a tank missing, then they have to fight with the owner of the cab company over who is going to pay. Sure enough, the assistant mechanic said that Fred usually siphons off gas and then calls his friends to drop by the garage to buy it at half price. I knew he was selling batteries and car parts, but our gasoline?

The hunter

2008-03-30T23:57:00.000-07:00

I drove a man in his late 20s, along with his wife and three daughters. While bringing them to the Hampton Inn near Rosecrans and I5, I asked what the man did for a living.

He lives in Western Wyoming and leads hunting trips into the mountains, mostly for elk. We talked about this for several minutes, and I wish I could have recorded the conversation.

I have been to the mountains of Wyoming, and few places in the world are more beautiful. He and his brother-in-law use horses and pack mules to lead hunting parties in search of game. It sounded like a fantastic job -- completely the opposite of the 9-to-5 grind that so many people endure.

He talked about how elk behave, and how it differs from mule deer, another popular game animal in the mountains. Mule deer tend to be solitary animals, while elk are herd animals. He said with elk there are usually a dozen cows, more or less, with an obvious leading male. Also there are usually several younger males, who stay off to the sides of the main herd.

He said hunting during the rutting season is a unique experience, because the bull elk are strong and aggressive. He can call for an elk, and the bulls will reply. If he keeps calling, they often come straight for him, sometimes within 15 feet.

The guy and his family are from one of the most sparsely populated states, and from one of the most sparsely populated areas of that state. They were somewhat quiet and reserved. When they had all gotten out of the taxi and he bent down to the window and paid, he said: "Y'all have a nice town here."

I'm certain my writing doesn't do justice to the exchange. They were good folks from an extraordinary place few people get to see.

Golf cart

2008-03-24T18:59:00.000-07:00

I was on my way to a cab stand at about 2:15 a.m. a few nights ago, just after bar close. Two blocks from our stand, which is across the street from a strip of bars, I see two cops had pulled over an electric car. We have several of these cruising the streets of San Diego. They're basically golf carts that are street legal for surface streets. I saw two young ladies standing on the sidewalk speaking with the cops.

On stand I eventually made it to first in line and then picked up a flag, a guy going solo. He said to take him seven or eight blocks straight up the street. As we got near the cops and their blue and red lights, I told him there was a golf cart pulled over and I started laughing. As we drove by he said: "Hey, stop! Let me out." I asked if he knew the girls, and he said yes. He wasn't all that happy that I laughed at his friends. Oops. I got $4 for the ride.

Back on that stand I waited another twenty minutes or so and got a bell over the radio: "Police call at XYZ address." That was the golf cart people. I just couldn't get away from them, it seemed. I picked up the two ladies and brought them to Imperial Beach, which is a good run. The driver of the golf cart said she blew .075, just under the .08 minimum. They wouldn't let her continue driving, even though she passed, so the police called her a cab.

Baja

2008-03-24T18:56:00.000-07:00

I picked up a guy from an ER. Unlike most ER pickups, he was clean and "normal", except he was walking very slowly and had a bandage on his arm. He had several small, soft-side suitcases. He would be paying cash, as opposed to using a hospital voucher. He went to the Holiday Inn on 8th and Main (or Broadway?) in National City, which we call Nasty City.

I asked what happened and he said he was on a two week vacation in Baja Mexico doing some off-road motorcycling. He crashed, breaking a rib and chipping a bone in his arm. He planned to sit for two days in the Holiday Inn, recuperating, and then fly back east to his home. He was in rough shape, but he had decided to take some sort of shuttle all the way up to San Diego rather than sit in a Mexican hospital.

Happy to have this ride stolen

2008-03-24T18:52:00.000-07:00

I was on a cab stand at 2 a.m., bar close time, with several other cabs. A guy walked out of a bar across the street and vomited profusely. He ralphed so many times we suspected he may have a bit of food poisoning in addition to being drunk off his ass. Eventually he looked up and saw us, held up his hand, and staggered across the street. In perfect unison five cars started their engines and pulled off the curb, and drove away.

I circled around the block slowly, since I was first in line, to see if anybody else was coming out of the bars (i.e. somebody not puking). Nobody was. But I saw a cab from another zone stop and pick up the puker. Good for him. He can come into our zone and steal a guy like than whenever he wants. I announced the ride theft on the radio, and several drivers responded that they were pleased with the outcome.

Permit renewal

2008-03-24T18:48:00.000-07:00

I have waited until the last possible moment to renew my cab permit, which expires at the end of the month. I have the drug test forms, but I still have to go and get it done. No worries there -- no drugs. I don't even drink. Cigarettes are my only vice, and they're still (barely) legal. I have to get the drug test, then hound them to make sure they faxed a copy to the city, then get my H6 (copy of driving record from the DMV), then, when all the paperwork is in, pay a small amount to get my new permit.

Then I'll try to renew my navy base pass. That took several months of fucking around last year, and I expect nothing different this time. The navy is a *unique* organization. They attract some of the best people, have a massive budget, and have some of the best equipment and technology in the world. It was the U.S. military, after all, that gave us the internet in September 1969. But they can't follow simple, well established, agreed upon rules for giving out a base pass.