Gringo learns Spanish the hard way

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.

Border blues

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.

Driver games: Zach and Slingblade

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:

Zach: I called first.

Slingblade: Doesn't matter. It's who she heard first.

Zach: Respect the call-in order.

Slingblade: You haven't worked here very long, let us handle it.

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.

Slingblade: Stop cutting me off, Zach.

Zach: Get ahold of yourself.

Slingblade: No, you get ahold of yourself.

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."

Slingblade: Only queers do that. You're a queer, aren't you, Zach? You like to 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?

Two 'races'

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

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!

Notorious ride thief

We've got a female driver who started working about a year ago. She's from Eastern Europe and speaks only a little English. She was very shy when she started -- a real nice lady. I helped train her because our official trainer is from the same country she is from -- Serbia -- and because they were talking Serbian all the time, the new driver wasn't learning much English. Anyway, she went from a nice lady to a worthless b**** in no time.

Example: We had a four-cab call for a large party at a nice hotel. She was the last of four, and I was penultimate. She arrived last, drove in front of the three other cabs, took the first people to walk out of the hotel, and sped away. She ignored our complaints on the radio.

She also calls on the radio that she's entering the zone about a mile before she actually is. Also, she calls clear several blocks before she arrives at her destination. The other trick she pulls is to call 10-21 (going home for the day), then drive around with her radio on and steal flags, off duty.

We complain about her on the radio, at each instance, but nothing gets done. Several other drivers nominated me to speak with the cab company owner in person because I have a good rapport with him. I'm going to explain the situation. If he won't change the woman's behavior, then the drivers will make her quit by stealing every ride she gets. I'll have a face-to-face confrontation with her before it comes to making her quit, though. Every Eastern European we get has to go through the same process (same for Middle Eastern drivers). They start out thinking they can do whatever they want, and they need to be shown that that's not acceptable.

El Mejor

We have a Mexican driver who seems to get more rides than anyone else, and they're usually long -- like Carlsbad, Vista, etc. We call him El Mejor, which is The Best in Spanish. He's also one of our most notorious ride thieves. Whenever he calls out a distant destination on the radio, somebody responds, on the radio, "El Mejor!"

He's typical of a ride thief. He's a great guy on the cab stands, a family man who will help anyone in need. But something comes over him when he gets behind the wheel. Jekyll and Hyde.

The best seafood in town

I had to give credit to a driver for a great joke. It may be too "inside" for anyone else to appreciate it; I don't know. Here's how it went down.

Two drivers, who I'll call A and B, have been squabbling on the radio for a few days. B allegedly stole a ride from A, so A is looking for revenge. Last night driver B picked up and asked for drivers to suggest a good seafood restaurant. We all knew where he picked up. Typically drivers help each other, and would suggest a place some distance away (but not too far). Some drivers ask questions like these just to deflect any suspicions a customer might have, even though they know quite well where everything is. If customers suspect they've been taken to an out-of-the-way spot to inflate the meter, the driver can always say he wasn't sure, and that's why he checked. "A" responded to B's request for a seafood restaurant: "XYZ restaurant has the best seafood in town." That restaurant was about four blocks from where B picked up. I haven't heard yet if the trick worked.

Several drivers are now continuing the joke. If they picked somebody up who requests that restaurant, they call it in: "We're going to XYZ, the best seafood in town."

Frankenstein

We have a new driver who has already been nicknamed Frankenstein. He's from eastern Europe, with a strong accent, and he's obese with a glistening, bald head. He looks and sounds the part. A few drivers have been imitating him on the radio, to the dismay of dispatchers.

I'm in on the joke, but I also did what I always do for new drivers: I told him to call me for directions, anytime. Many veteran drivers deliberately give bad direction to n00bs, hoping they'll get frustrated and quit. Fewer drivers, after all, is more money for the rest. "Frankenstein" turned out to be a very nice guy. He's from eastern Poland and even though he only knows a little English, he can make a decent joke. In front of a group of drivers standing beside the lead car on a cab stand a few nights ago, he told a joke about a camel that had to be jerked off once for every 100 miles traveled. When he finished (heh), I told him that he was already turning into a fine cab driver.

Fear and loathing

Forgive my theft of Hunter S. Thompson. Several drivers and I were on stand last night with nothing to do. We've been breaking even most nights -- just covering the lease and fuel, making ZERO for ourselves. Last night I walked away from the discussion at about 2:30 a.m. after the bar rush turned out to be a dud, again. It was late, dark, and no cars had driven by in half an hour. I took a leak. I rarely do this. I'm still civilized, meaning I use a public restroom. However, nature dictated that I couldn't make it, and since nobody was round, I didn't think it was a big deal. It's nice to be a guy some times!

When I mosied back to the cars and the drivers standing around, one laughed at what I had just done. He's a newer driver. That launched a discussion about one of our greatest fears, as cabbies. We've noticed that most of our older drivers, the guys who have been driving for 10 years or more, are all oddballs. They're either psychopathically antisocial, or they're so mean you can't get near them, or they have some other psychological problem. The fear is that the job might make people like that, and will it happen to us? The other angle is that perhaps the weirdos end up as cabbies, as there are few other jobs a freak can do. Since we are all fairly normal right now, does that mean our future is doomed? Who knows for sure?

My pissing in the bushes brought on an interesting case study. We know of one driver who regularly takes a leak right outside his car, at night, when nobody is around. That's much worse than me (I went to the bushes and hid). Then somebody mentioned Catheter Cab, who keeps a milk carton in his car. He doesn't even get out! Then there's Carey, who I saw take a leak in a bush at high noon with people walking on the sidewalk. He told me to whistle if anybody walks towards him.

The length of service (years of driving) goes up with each of these drivers. I've been driving less than two years. The guy who goes right outside his car has about five years. Carey has about 10 years, and Catheter Cab is over 10 years. The pattern is clear. The drivers concluded that when you hit twenty years of driving cab, you'll probably be wearing some kind of adult diaper. Depends or something like that. The future is bleak.

Argument over Reed

I got Reed tonight, a regular customer who is semi-psychotic, smells bad, and throws a Class A fit (in public) if his hand is not held while he shuffles from the restaurant to the taxi. You can read about Reed here. I'd really like to smack the hell out of him. I can't do that, of course, but I can fantasize.

Tonight I was on a lucrative stand that was producing $30 rides all night. It was busy and everyone was making money. It's more than that, though. There was a good rhythm. I was getting great rides that were quick and mostly freeway. Then I'd return to our zone and get another one within five or ten minutes. Some nights we sit for hours between fares, dreaming of nights like tonight.

Then Reed came along, the bastard.

He provoked a radio fight from me, which is extremely rare. I believe it was my second in over two years of driving. I was second on the stand that was moving, and the first guy up got belled to pick up Reed. It was a definitive bell: "Pick up Reed at XYZ restaurant." The rules say you must pick up the fare you're assigned to (it's actually a law). If a driver wants to refuse, all he has to do is say so on the radio, and the punishment is banishment from service for one hour, after which time he can check back in on the radio.

Naturally, the first guy up didn't do it that way. Instead he called that he picked up a flag at that same restaurant, but it wasn't Reed, "and can you please send the next cab for Reed." The dispatcher called my number. I took issue with that. Refusing a bell is a one hour banishment. Of course, the driver tried to circumvent this by claiming to have picked up a flag. He was lying. We call it a ghost ride, where you call in a fare when you're actually driving around empty, staying to streets where it's unlikely to see our cabs.

I asked for a rule clarification on the radio: "Is there no penalty for picking up a flag when you've been given a specific bell?"

The dispatcher kept saying "10-9?", which is the code for, "Please repeat, I can't make out what you're saying."

The barbarians were in league against me. So I said, on air, "If there are no penalties, then I'm getting a flag too, and can you please send the next cab for Reed?" I then immediately went and picked up Reed. As much as I hate the bastard with a burning passion, he still deserves a ride home. While I was watching him, unamused, shuffle at a snail's pace toward my taxi, I went in and spoke with the bartender. I confirmed that no other cabs had stopped there. None all night, in fact.

I drove Reed for the entire $4 distance and wished him well. The poor weirdo has no idea the sorts of battles that occur among drivers just so they can avoid him.

A couple of hours later I found myself parked behind the driver who called in the ghost ride (and fucked me). I got out of my car; he got out of his. A third driver was already outside, and when he saw us get out, he said: "Round 1, ding!" The driver immediately tried to explain. They all do that. They act like barbarian scum behind the wheel, never hesitating to steal money from the next guy, but on stand they're perfect gentlemen. I told him he was scum and I don't appreciate him messing around with me and costing me money. He tried to protest, but I went back to my car and got in.

There's no point trying to force someone with bad character to behave in a civilized manner. And, the last guy who popped a scum like him ended up losing his job and paying $10k in medical bills (broken nose that required two surgeries). Avoiding Reed isn't worth that.

The streets are mostly lawless, and there isn't a whole lot I can do about it.

Running over a fire hydrant

Q: What happens when a cab driver runs over a fire hydrant, causing a colossal mess, including flooding a restaurant?

A: He gets fired.

It was one of our newer drivers (the geographically challenged one). He was doing a U-turn in a restaurant parking lot when he hit the hydrant. The water went about as high as the trees, maybe a little higher than a traffic light. A dozen cops and firefighters were at the scene. I saw what looked like two feet of water in the parking lot, and the restaurant closed several hours early that night. We're expecting the cab company to receive a hefty bill.

Side note: I finally got my Navy badge. I meet all the qualifications, and I had one in the past, but for some mysterious reason it took no less than seven trips to the Navy access office (called Pass & Decal) to get a new badge. I complained about it several months ago.

The new guy

I tried really hard. I swear. We have a new Brazilian driver who's having a lot of trouble. When I heard the other drivers picking on him and deliberately giving him bad directions, I made a point of seeking him out at a cab stand to have a bit of a chat.

The old-timers can be bastards, I explained. I offered him encouragement and advised him to give it a month before quitting in anger. It takes a while to learn the city (the way a cab driver needs to know it), and it takes a while for the other drivers to accept a noob. I gave him my cell # and told him to call me for directions rather than use the radio. He appreciated that, and that I say "qualeh" and "obrigado" (sp?).

Later that same night I was dropping at a Marriott when I heard him get a bell to the same place. This is somewhat problematic because I have to tell the doorman I'm not the right cab. They don't like seeing an empty cab leave while customers are sitting around waiting. Many drivers would steal the ride, but I won't.

So I called the new guy and asked his 20, and he replied, in seriousness, that he was lost. That's a red flag. We only have a few Marriotts and they're all very easy to find. I knew where they all were before I started driving a cab.

Did I mention the guy has a dash-mount GPS? Why aren't the major hotels set as waypoints?

I waited for a while and then announced I was taking the customers. They shouldn't wait because a driver gets lost on his way to a central hotel.

Well.

Tonight I spoke with another driver, Juan, who had an interesting experience with the new guy last night. They had a two-cab call for one large party going to the same place. New Guy didn't know the destination hotel, so he said he would follow Juan. All seemed fine.

When they dropped, New Guy said he needed to follow Juan back to our zone. That's absurd on its face, but it gets better. Juan was going 10-21 (leaving, going home), so he couldn't follow. He was on his own.

Juan drove to a gas station near his house, and there was New Guy. He was following him home!

I feel bad for this guy, but maybe he's not cut out to be a cab driver. If you live in a city more than 10 years and don't know where anything is, you're not the type.

A ray of 'Sunshine'

Not much is happening tonight. Most of our cabs went 10-21. I plan to stay around until midnight or 1:00 a.m. to see what I can get. Since I have nothing else to do, I'll tell you about Sunshine.

On my first day on the job I was sitting on stand, chatting with my new co-workers, when Sunshine came on the radio. He was calling one of our Iraqis a "raghead" and inviting him to go back to his own country. I was so amused, I said, "Boy, he's a ray of sunshine, isn't he?" It stuck.

Sunshine may have mental problems, because more than once I've been behind him on stand and witnessed a strange thing -- he slaps the top of his head rapidly, for about 30 seconds. He was out of control. I've always wondered if he does that with customers in his cab?

Anyway, I've been on the receiving end of his charm twice in two years.

The first was a two-cab bell to a Marriott, me and Sunshine. He got there first and pulled away just as I was loading. We were going to the Charthouse seafood restaurant in Seaport Village just behind the Hyatt on the waterfront. It may have changed names, but we still call it Charthouse.

After an uneventful ride, I dropped in the Charthouse's parking lot. My doors were still open, with the customers climbing out, when Sunshine roared up beside me with his widow down. He had been waiting for me.

"What did you do, take the long way around?" he yelled, then took off. It was deliberately loud enough for my people to hear.

The second run-in with Sunshine involved dropping at a restaurant complex that is also a cab stand. I didn't see any cabs around, so I called on the radio, "clear", before my people got out. I was stopped, paid, and waiting for them to finish exiting. I was stretching my hood, but not by much.

Protocol is to get paid, have the customers leave and close the doors before you clear. Then you call in and take a place on a stand (dispatch line).

Sunshine got on the radio. "Ninety-five, you need to clear before you call 'clear'." What a bastard. He had been off in the shadows on the far side of the parking lot, waiting for his chance to cause trouble. Most drivers clear at least two blocks from the drop.

Busted a smuggler tonight

I caught a new driver smuggling tonight, and busted him on the radio. He drives 105, and was parked first at a hotel stand. I was 2nd. Four guys piled into his car and he left. Maybe 20 seconds later dispatch called him with a bell and he said 10-4. Idiot.