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.
Showing posts with label drunk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drunk. Show all posts
Monday, April 14, 2008
Drunk drama
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.
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.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Happy to have this ride stolen
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.
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.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Drunken girl
I was belled to a bar where a bouncer was leading, somewhat forcefully, a young woman towards my car. He stuffed her in the back and then came around to my window. "Make sure she doesn't try to get in her car. Take her straight home." I didn't say anything because I wasn't willing to officially take that responsibility.
After a block and a half she said to stop and let her out. I spent five minutes trying to talk her out of it. I even offered a discount on the fare. I would have driven her for free, considering how drunk she was, but she didn't let me get that far. She knew her rights -- I couldn't make her stay in the car. She paid me the $3 fare and got out. I followed her back to her car (I think she was too drunk to notice a large yellow car keeping pace with her on the street).
As soon as she got behind the wheel of a mini-truck, I called the police. I gave the description of her and her truck, and the police dispatcher asked, "Is she just sitting in the truck, or is she driving it?" I asked her to hold the line. Within 10 seconds the truck was started, the headlights were on, and the truck was pulling into the driving lane. "She's driving." The dispatcher said, "Okay, I'll notify the nearest officer."
I never heard what happened, but I hope she got a nice, $8,000 DUI.
After a block and a half she said to stop and let her out. I spent five minutes trying to talk her out of it. I even offered a discount on the fare. I would have driven her for free, considering how drunk she was, but she didn't let me get that far. She knew her rights -- I couldn't make her stay in the car. She paid me the $3 fare and got out. I followed her back to her car (I think she was too drunk to notice a large yellow car keeping pace with her on the street).
As soon as she got behind the wheel of a mini-truck, I called the police. I gave the description of her and her truck, and the police dispatcher asked, "Is she just sitting in the truck, or is she driving it?" I asked her to hold the line. Within 10 seconds the truck was started, the headlights were on, and the truck was pulling into the driving lane. "She's driving." The dispatcher said, "Okay, I'll notify the nearest officer."
I never heard what happened, but I hope she got a nice, $8,000 DUI.
Saved by the bell
The other night I was the first cab on stand across the street from a strip of bars. A man came out of one of the bars helping a woman, and the woman was fallen-down drunk. Another driver and I were standing and waiting. He said to me: "Bad luck. She looks like a handful, or a puker." She was half way to the car when I heard my number on the radio. When we get called on the radio we call it a bell. Everyone started laughing. I was called away to a residential address just as they got to the car. "I'm sorry," I said, "you'll have to take the next car in line."
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Tijuana hooker price list
In case you were wondering about the costs, here they are, as I got it from an authority source: three drunk, enlisted sailors. Side note: I've had numerous sailors tell me that anyone below E5, which these guys certainly were, are forbidden to go to TJ. That may only apply to out-of-town ships pulling into port for a short stay -- I'm not sure.
+ Adelita's: $60 plus $12 for the room, alcohol extra
+ Purple Rain: $78, room included, alcohol extra
+ Luxor: $150, room and alcohol included (unlimited tequila and beer)
They said Luxor had stunningly beautiful women and, since they "drank so much," it was the best deal in town. Purple Rain had the worst of the girls, but they were still very good. No complaints. They felt Adelita's was the best overall value, with women slightly better than Purple Rain, but not quite as good as Luxor. They told me about Chicago Club, too, but I can't remember the details. It's similar in price/quality to Adelita's and Purple Rain.
Here's an interesting side note: According to The San Diego Union-Tribune, our big daily paper, prostitution is illegal throughout Mexico. It is not enforced, especially in red light districts of major cities, like Tijuana. In fact, the Mexican government has issued sanitary guidelines and instituted regular health checks for the "industry." I read this three or four years ago in hard copy; no link available.
+ Adelita's: $60 plus $12 for the room, alcohol extra
+ Purple Rain: $78, room included, alcohol extra
+ Luxor: $150, room and alcohol included (unlimited tequila and beer)
They said Luxor had stunningly beautiful women and, since they "drank so much," it was the best deal in town. Purple Rain had the worst of the girls, but they were still very good. No complaints. They felt Adelita's was the best overall value, with women slightly better than Purple Rain, but not quite as good as Luxor. They told me about Chicago Club, too, but I can't remember the details. It's similar in price/quality to Adelita's and Purple Rain.
Here's an interesting side note: According to The San Diego Union-Tribune, our big daily paper, prostitution is illegal throughout Mexico. It is not enforced, especially in red light districts of major cities, like Tijuana. In fact, the Mexican government has issued sanitary guidelines and instituted regular health checks for the "industry." I read this three or four years ago in hard copy; no link available.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
A cold breakfast
I got Stan again. He's a local drunk who normally goes downtown and normally pays for his ride. The last time I had him he refused to pay and I had to summon the police (post here). He learned from past mistakes, which were, in the order he made them:
1: customers really do have to pay for waiting time
2: cab drivers won't put up with being told to "fuck off" four or five times, and
3: cab drivers will call the police to make people pay (and it's only a matter of time before he gets a driver who will fracture his skull)
This time around he decided to try to beat the system by getting a ride to an all night diner, then paying, then getting out and ordering breakfast to go. Before he got out of the car he asked if I was going to be "in the area." I would be. Then he asked if I was planning on sitting "right here." Absolutely. He verified just before he closed the door: "Are you going to be waiting right here when I come back from the restaurant?" I assured him I would be waiting. You can see this coming... I dropped it in Drive and lit up the rear tires, speeding away the moment the door closed, and I tapped the horn twice to make sure he knew my exit was not a misunderstanding.
I then called the few remaining drivers on duty and explained the situation. When he called for a taxi again, from the diner, no car showed up. He called back ten minutes later. When dispatch asked where the driver assigned to the call was (not me), he said he couldn't find the diner. That's an obvious lie, as we all know very well where that diner is located. Another car was sent, and ten minutes later Stan had to call again. This time the driver said he was "almost there," and eventually picked up Stan and drove him home. Breakfast was quite cold by then, I'm sure.
Scorecard
Ted 2
Stan 0
I'll let you know how the next round goes.
1: customers really do have to pay for waiting time
2: cab drivers won't put up with being told to "fuck off" four or five times, and
3: cab drivers will call the police to make people pay (and it's only a matter of time before he gets a driver who will fracture his skull)
This time around he decided to try to beat the system by getting a ride to an all night diner, then paying, then getting out and ordering breakfast to go. Before he got out of the car he asked if I was going to be "in the area." I would be. Then he asked if I was planning on sitting "right here." Absolutely. He verified just before he closed the door: "Are you going to be waiting right here when I come back from the restaurant?" I assured him I would be waiting. You can see this coming... I dropped it in Drive and lit up the rear tires, speeding away the moment the door closed, and I tapped the horn twice to make sure he knew my exit was not a misunderstanding.
I then called the few remaining drivers on duty and explained the situation. When he called for a taxi again, from the diner, no car showed up. He called back ten minutes later. When dispatch asked where the driver assigned to the call was (not me), he said he couldn't find the diner. That's an obvious lie, as we all know very well where that diner is located. Another car was sent, and ten minutes later Stan had to call again. This time the driver said he was "almost there," and eventually picked up Stan and drove him home. Breakfast was quite cold by then, I'm sure.
Scorecard
Ted 2
Stan 0
I'll let you know how the next round goes.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
ER nonsense
I'm starting to loathe emergency rooms. Whenever I get belled to an ER, it's a worthless experience. I do make some money, so it's not completely worthless, but I'd gladly give up the money in exchange for never picking up bums. Last night I got a live one -- an Hispanic male, perhaps 50, almost too drunk to speak, and that was after he had been "cleaned up", including a washing and a new set of clothes. I wouldn't have wanted to see him before the alleged cleaning.
The ER doc asked me what the fare would be to San Ysidro, which is right along the border with Mexico. It's around $45. "Okay," she said. "This gentleman has $90 in his pocket. He'll pay cash." She and an orderly went back into the hospital, and the "gentleman" sat in the back seat.
Him: How much gonna be?
Me: $45 or so.
Him: Bullshit.
Me: You have to pay, or you don't go home.
Him: Bullshit.
I turned the car off and went into the hospital. I informed the ER doc that he refused payment. Obviously, I'm not driving anyone free of charge. So she gave me a hospital voucher, meaning they'll cover the cost.
The ride itself was uneventful, except that he kept babbling. Initially I made an effort to understand him, but it was fruitless. I put on some talk radio and turned it up loud enough to drown him out. Reception wasn't good way down there, but static was better than his babbling.
I got him to his address, which was a residential house in San Ysidro. Surprisingly, he recognized it. Sometimes they can't. In those cases I usually point at a house and just say, "Go." This one was slightly better. No tip, but at least I'll get the fare from the hospital.
The ER doc asked me what the fare would be to San Ysidro, which is right along the border with Mexico. It's around $45. "Okay," she said. "This gentleman has $90 in his pocket. He'll pay cash." She and an orderly went back into the hospital, and the "gentleman" sat in the back seat.
Him: How much gonna be?
Me: $45 or so.
Him: Bullshit.
Me: You have to pay, or you don't go home.
Him: Bullshit.
I turned the car off and went into the hospital. I informed the ER doc that he refused payment. Obviously, I'm not driving anyone free of charge. So she gave me a hospital voucher, meaning they'll cover the cost.
The ride itself was uneventful, except that he kept babbling. Initially I made an effort to understand him, but it was fruitless. I put on some talk radio and turned it up loud enough to drown him out. Reception wasn't good way down there, but static was better than his babbling.
I got him to his address, which was a residential house in San Ysidro. Surprisingly, he recognized it. Sometimes they can't. In those cases I usually point at a house and just say, "Go." This one was slightly better. No tip, but at least I'll get the fare from the hospital.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Three drunken sailors
I picked up three drunken navy guys from a bar, and it quickly became apparent that two were together, and the third guy, far and away the most drunk, was on his own. He was also incoherent and looked on the verge of passing out. I asked the other two if they minded sharing a cab. They didn't. The next puzzle was the third guy's destination.
The two were going out to Coronado where they're stationed on the U.S.S. Lincoln (Nimitz class aircraft carrier in from Washington). They ended up getting out the guy's wallet and finding his military ID card. It said "72", which is the Lincoln's CVN number. So off we went.
I got them to the Lincoln and cocked my head a little to wait for the fare. Instead, they got out and one of them came to my window and paid. I thanked them and left. Halfway back to the Coronado Bridge, I heard some groaning from the back seat. The super drunk guy never got out! I thought he had. I had to bring him all the way back onto the base and to his ship. After some yelling to roust him, he stumbled out to the waiting arms of the MAs (Master at Arms, navy security).
The two were going out to Coronado where they're stationed on the U.S.S. Lincoln (Nimitz class aircraft carrier in from Washington). They ended up getting out the guy's wallet and finding his military ID card. It said "72", which is the Lincoln's CVN number. So off we went.
I got them to the Lincoln and cocked my head a little to wait for the fare. Instead, they got out and one of them came to my window and paid. I thanked them and left. Halfway back to the Coronado Bridge, I heard some groaning from the back seat. The super drunk guy never got out! I thought he had. I had to bring him all the way back onto the base and to his ship. After some yelling to roust him, he stumbled out to the waiting arms of the MAs (Master at Arms, navy security).
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Bringing drunks to Jack in the Box
For the uninitiated, Jack in the Box is a McDonald's style, fast food place. Most drive-thrus are open 24 hours. And it's common for drunks to ask for a trip to Jack's for a late night meal of hot grease. Tonight was such a night.
I picked up two drunk guys, probably in their late 20s or early 30s, at a nice hotel. They had been visiting friends who were staying there. En route I learned that one of the guys owned a condo in the area, which was a weekend place for when he was in from Phoenix, Ariz. The other guy was his friend from AZ, who often came with to enjoy the mild weather and attractions of San Diego.
Before going to the condo, they wanted Jack's. I pulled forward so the rear window was beside the menus and order station. A harried sounding guy with a strong Spanish (Mexican) accent asked if he could help them. They were drunkenly considering their options while the guy was asking if they were ready. After a lot of friendly arguing and discussion, they had a complex order ready to go. It began: "Large fries." Then there was a long pause while the drunks re-hashed what they wanted, even asking me if I wanted anything. A small coke would be fine, I said.
When the one guy turned back to the order stand, he laboriously explained everything they wanted, to the last detail. Then there was silence. He began to repeat it, then stopped to ask if anybody was listening. He was drunk and if not rude, certainly not polite. After a long delay, maybe five minutes, the employee came back on and said: "Okay, a large fries. Anything else?"
The drunks laughed uncontrollably, partly because they had spent a lot of time for nothing, and also because they had mostly forgotten their large order. So they had to re-create it on the fly while the employee kept asking the routine questions -- what size soda? A No. 2 in medium or large size? Was that a large fries on the side? Did you say Diet Coke or regular Coke?
The employee was getting more and more frustrated. When the drunk said: "I also need a double cheeseburger," the employee said, "I don't sell double cheeseburgers. Look at the menu!"
This is where I spoke up. "Gentlemen, I believe the man has reached his breaking point." They agreed and said to the microphone: "Whatever you have down is good enough." I sped forward before the employee could say anything else.
You kind of had to be there. It was a good time, and I got a free coke out of it.
On the ride to the condo we all agreed that we'd never heard a fast-food worker yell at the top of his lungs: "Look at the menu!" Poor guy was working bar rush by himself. After taking orders he went in the back to cook the food himself. I felt bad for him, but it was still funny.
I picked up two drunk guys, probably in their late 20s or early 30s, at a nice hotel. They had been visiting friends who were staying there. En route I learned that one of the guys owned a condo in the area, which was a weekend place for when he was in from Phoenix, Ariz. The other guy was his friend from AZ, who often came with to enjoy the mild weather and attractions of San Diego.
Before going to the condo, they wanted Jack's. I pulled forward so the rear window was beside the menus and order station. A harried sounding guy with a strong Spanish (Mexican) accent asked if he could help them. They were drunkenly considering their options while the guy was asking if they were ready. After a lot of friendly arguing and discussion, they had a complex order ready to go. It began: "Large fries." Then there was a long pause while the drunks re-hashed what they wanted, even asking me if I wanted anything. A small coke would be fine, I said.
When the one guy turned back to the order stand, he laboriously explained everything they wanted, to the last detail. Then there was silence. He began to repeat it, then stopped to ask if anybody was listening. He was drunk and if not rude, certainly not polite. After a long delay, maybe five minutes, the employee came back on and said: "Okay, a large fries. Anything else?"
The drunks laughed uncontrollably, partly because they had spent a lot of time for nothing, and also because they had mostly forgotten their large order. So they had to re-create it on the fly while the employee kept asking the routine questions -- what size soda? A No. 2 in medium or large size? Was that a large fries on the side? Did you say Diet Coke or regular Coke?
The employee was getting more and more frustrated. When the drunk said: "I also need a double cheeseburger," the employee said, "I don't sell double cheeseburgers. Look at the menu!"
This is where I spoke up. "Gentlemen, I believe the man has reached his breaking point." They agreed and said to the microphone: "Whatever you have down is good enough." I sped forward before the employee could say anything else.
You kind of had to be there. It was a good time, and I got a free coke out of it.
On the ride to the condo we all agreed that we'd never heard a fast-food worker yell at the top of his lungs: "Look at the menu!" Poor guy was working bar rush by himself. After taking orders he went in the back to cook the food himself. I felt bad for him, but it was still funny.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Last ride was short, but profitable
I was belled to a bar for my last ride of the evening. Two staggering drunks piled into the back seat and said, "Take us two blocks straight ahead." I didn't shift out of Park. "Are you kidding?" They weren't, but they gave me $20.
Friday, July 27, 2007
'I might be mentally ill'
My last ride of the night was Scooter, a regular who's always plastered. He works at a lawn and patio store in my zone, and every cab driver around here knows him. All the bartenders do, too. He's usually so drunk he can hardly walk, and tonight was no exception. Sometimes he's wasted when we pick him up at work, meaning he drinks on the job. Some of the other workers at that place drink heavily, too. Be careful where you buy your potting soil.
When I got the bell the dispatcher said to go to a bar to pick up Scooter. The other driver I was next to on the cab stand said: "Think he's drunk enough for a 20?" We all know that when Scooter's really hammered, he gives a $20 for his short rides (usually $6 on the meter). I responded: "It's after 1, so hopefully."
I brought him from the bar to his house. I didn't run the meter, and he didn't need to tell me the address. On the way there he was mumbling to himself. I caught, "I might be mentally ill."
Me: You think so?
Him: Maybe. I drink so much...
Sad thing, he may be right. Alcoholism and mental illness go together quite often. He gave me $20 and said he'd be out again tomorrow night, then literally staggered off towards his apartment building.
When I got the bell the dispatcher said to go to a bar to pick up Scooter. The other driver I was next to on the cab stand said: "Think he's drunk enough for a 20?" We all know that when Scooter's really hammered, he gives a $20 for his short rides (usually $6 on the meter). I responded: "It's after 1, so hopefully."
I brought him from the bar to his house. I didn't run the meter, and he didn't need to tell me the address. On the way there he was mumbling to himself. I caught, "I might be mentally ill."
Me: You think so?
Him: Maybe. I drink so much...
Sad thing, he may be right. Alcoholism and mental illness go together quite often. He gave me $20 and said he'd be out again tomorrow night, then literally staggered off towards his apartment building.
Monday, July 9, 2007
Mistake
I made a mistake on my last ride. It was a guy going from a residential address near downtown out to his house in Chula Vista. He was drunk, and carrying a motorcycle helmet (too drunk to ride home). He said he would give me directions, and things began well. The mistake was starting the trip before getting an exact street address. I know better, but the guy seemed so coherent I decided to let him direct me.
On I-5 southbound he fell fast asleep and was difficult to roust. He told me to take 54 east, which I did. I checked to see that he was awake, and went a few miles. When I asked which exit, since he didn't volunteer, he said Telegraph Canyon Road. I didn't recall that road crossing the 54, but since I don't use 54 often, I figured it would be okay. Sure enough, 54 ended without crossing the road.
I pulled off and asked for the exact address. Surprisingly he knew it, or he knew some address. There was no way to tell if it was right.
I used Google Maps and found where the guy messed up with the directions. By then the meter was $55, and we were sitting in a 7-11 parking lot, about $25 from his actual residence. I told him the fare was getting expensive, and if he needed an ATM, now would be the time. He went inside, then came out, stuffing bills into his wallet.
Me: It's going to run about $80. Did you get enough?
Him: $80? I only have $40. Why is it $80?
Me: Because you gave me bad directions.
Him: Oh.
Me: So you'll need to go in and use the ATM again, right? (Talking to drunks is just like talking to little kids.)
Him: Ahhhh, this is all it would let me take out. I don't have any more money.
Me: Well, I'm not taking you home for half price.
He handed me the $40 and took his helmet out of the back seat.
Me: So, how are you getting home?
Him: (shrugged)
Me: Can I call somebody for you? A friend, relative? Do you have a roommate?
Him: No, there's nobody.
The 7-11 cashier was outside having a smoke by then, and was watching us with amusement. When he saw me climb into the cab, and my customer wasn't, he wasn't so amused.
Cashier: You can't just leave him here.
Me: Yes, I can.
Cashier: No, you can't.
Me: Yes, I can. He's a nice guy. You'll get along well, I'm sure.
As I drove away I heard some yelling, but couldn't make it out.
On I-5 southbound he fell fast asleep and was difficult to roust. He told me to take 54 east, which I did. I checked to see that he was awake, and went a few miles. When I asked which exit, since he didn't volunteer, he said Telegraph Canyon Road. I didn't recall that road crossing the 54, but since I don't use 54 often, I figured it would be okay. Sure enough, 54 ended without crossing the road.
I pulled off and asked for the exact address. Surprisingly he knew it, or he knew some address. There was no way to tell if it was right.
I used Google Maps and found where the guy messed up with the directions. By then the meter was $55, and we were sitting in a 7-11 parking lot, about $25 from his actual residence. I told him the fare was getting expensive, and if he needed an ATM, now would be the time. He went inside, then came out, stuffing bills into his wallet.
Me: It's going to run about $80. Did you get enough?
Him: $80? I only have $40. Why is it $80?
Me: Because you gave me bad directions.
Him: Oh.
Me: So you'll need to go in and use the ATM again, right? (Talking to drunks is just like talking to little kids.)
Him: Ahhhh, this is all it would let me take out. I don't have any more money.
Me: Well, I'm not taking you home for half price.
He handed me the $40 and took his helmet out of the back seat.
Me: So, how are you getting home?
Him: (shrugged)
Me: Can I call somebody for you? A friend, relative? Do you have a roommate?
Him: No, there's nobody.
The 7-11 cashier was outside having a smoke by then, and was watching us with amusement. When he saw me climb into the cab, and my customer wasn't, he wasn't so amused.
Cashier: You can't just leave him here.
Me: Yes, I can.
Cashier: No, you can't.
Me: Yes, I can. He's a nice guy. You'll get along well, I'm sure.
As I drove away I heard some yelling, but couldn't make it out.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Falling down
I just dropped off a guy at a bar, sort of a dive bar. I had picked him up at a nice Hyatt, and I noticed he was staggering as he walked to the cab. The doorman ignored him, which is unusual, but probably normal when an undesirable is around. He got in my car and slurred the name of the bar. When we got there, the meter said a whopping $3.80. He gave me $6, which is fair. After he got out I called "clear" on the radio, took a position at a cab stand (virtual line maintained by dispatch), then began pulling away from the curb. Before I made it two feet, the guy came up to the passenger window.
Him: Hey.
Me: Yeah?
Him: I'm not in trouble for falling down, am I?
Me: (WTF?) Did you fall down at the Hyatt? (If he had fallen down drunk in the lobby of a Hyatt hotel, he'd get tossed. Maybe that's what he was referring to.)
Him: No.
The idiot didn't venture any more information, but he didn't walk away, either.
Me: Did you fall down right there on the sidewalk?
Him: Yes.
I started laughing, and told him I didn't see him, and neither did anybody else. Don't worry about it. He must have fallen and then looked around to see if anybody was watching, then maybe he saw me use my radio and got scared I was calling the police. Ladies and gentlemen: if you drink enough to fall down, you've had enough. Perhaps just enough, but it's time to stop drinking.
Him: Hey.
Me: Yeah?
Him: I'm not in trouble for falling down, am I?
Me: (WTF?) Did you fall down at the Hyatt? (If he had fallen down drunk in the lobby of a Hyatt hotel, he'd get tossed. Maybe that's what he was referring to.)
Him: No.
The idiot didn't venture any more information, but he didn't walk away, either.
Me: Did you fall down right there on the sidewalk?
Him: Yes.
I started laughing, and told him I didn't see him, and neither did anybody else. Don't worry about it. He must have fallen and then looked around to see if anybody was watching, then maybe he saw me use my radio and got scared I was calling the police. Ladies and gentlemen: if you drink enough to fall down, you've had enough. Perhaps just enough, but it's time to stop drinking.
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Town Clown Revisited
...or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb Locals.
Bar rush yielded a lot of great rides tonight, like Gaslamp Quarter to Miramar MCAS, which is a $40 ride. And Little Italy to Barona Casino, which is $65 or so. I was the DUI Prevention Squad, carrying mostly locals.
My consolation: the drunks were entertaining.
I yelled at a customer for the first time tonight. A 20-something woman got in the front seat, and her two male friends hopped in back. They were going from downtown to the 32nd St. Naval base. It's about an $11 ride. I jumped on I-5 southbound at 17th St.
Her: Which way are you taking us?
Me: I-5 to the 28th St. exit, then straight to 32nd St.
Her: I don't know this way. Are you taking us the long way? You should be on Harbor Drive.
Me: The fare is $11 and 10 minutes my way, and it's $14 and 16 minutes your way.
Then she spoke to her friends as if I wasn't there.
Her: He's taking us the long way.
They said nothing. I pulled over on the freeway shoulder.
Me: If you think I'm ripping you off, get out and walk.
I thought, and almost expected, her drunk friends to become chivalrous. In my opinion, chivalry died the moment Sally Struthers ignited her first bra. To my surprise, they didn't stand up for her.
Guy: You tell her, man. We've been putting up with her all night.
Me, to the girl: Are you ready to continue?
Nobody said anything for the rest of the trip. She gave me $20 and said to keep it. I didn't actually yell. That's not really in my nature. All the same, I won't allow somebody to accuse me of theft when I'm saving them money and time.
Another interesting ride was two Navy guys in their low 20s. They were talking about some woman they had seen in the bar, and apparently she was the reason they left a half hour before bar close (I picked them up at 1:30 a.m.).
These may not be exact quotes, but they're very close:
Guy: She's a cougar.
Me: What's a "cougar"?
Guy: It's an older woman who comes into bars trying to pick up younger men.
Me: How old was she?
Guy: 45 or so.
Me: How did she look?
Guy: Small waist and double-Ds. Everything else is bad.
Then his friend started laughing hysterically. He asked permission of the other guy to tell a story.
2nd Guy: He fucked her last week!
Me: Really? I thought she was too old and unattractive.
Guy: We're young men. We like to get stupid drunk. It's what we do. And she knows that. Whenever a cougar like her comes into a bar I text message all my friends telling them to stay away.
Me: So, you went home with her last week. Why not tonight?
Guy: I only drank 10 beers tonight.
2nd Guy: He'll do her again sooner or later. It's guaranteed.
Another interesting ride wasn't a ride at all, it was a chance to deliver justice. I was the only cab in front of a bar on the edge of downtown. A drunk guy in a suit walked out to the curb and whistled. I looked up. He whistled again, this time pointing angrily at the ground in front of his feet. He wanted me to drive about 30 feet to him, rather than walk to the cab.
I got out and said, "I'm sorry. My car won't start." He cursed, looked at his watch and walked back into the bar. Just before he got to the door, I started the car and drove off.
Even though I was the Town Clown tonight, I still made good money. If you drive enough locals, it amounts to a decent night. And I do feel like I saved a few lives. If any of the drunks I drove tonight had tried to drive themselves, it would have been curtains.
Bar rush yielded a lot of great rides tonight, like Gaslamp Quarter to Miramar MCAS, which is a $40 ride. And Little Italy to Barona Casino, which is $65 or so. I was the DUI Prevention Squad, carrying mostly locals.
My consolation: the drunks were entertaining.
I yelled at a customer for the first time tonight. A 20-something woman got in the front seat, and her two male friends hopped in back. They were going from downtown to the 32nd St. Naval base. It's about an $11 ride. I jumped on I-5 southbound at 17th St.
Her: Which way are you taking us?
Me: I-5 to the 28th St. exit, then straight to 32nd St.
Her: I don't know this way. Are you taking us the long way? You should be on Harbor Drive.
Me: The fare is $11 and 10 minutes my way, and it's $14 and 16 minutes your way.
Then she spoke to her friends as if I wasn't there.
Her: He's taking us the long way.
They said nothing. I pulled over on the freeway shoulder.
Me: If you think I'm ripping you off, get out and walk.
I thought, and almost expected, her drunk friends to become chivalrous. In my opinion, chivalry died the moment Sally Struthers ignited her first bra. To my surprise, they didn't stand up for her.
Guy: You tell her, man. We've been putting up with her all night.
Me, to the girl: Are you ready to continue?
Nobody said anything for the rest of the trip. She gave me $20 and said to keep it. I didn't actually yell. That's not really in my nature. All the same, I won't allow somebody to accuse me of theft when I'm saving them money and time.
Another interesting ride was two Navy guys in their low 20s. They were talking about some woman they had seen in the bar, and apparently she was the reason they left a half hour before bar close (I picked them up at 1:30 a.m.).
These may not be exact quotes, but they're very close:
Guy: She's a cougar.
Me: What's a "cougar"?
Guy: It's an older woman who comes into bars trying to pick up younger men.
Me: How old was she?
Guy: 45 or so.
Me: How did she look?
Guy: Small waist and double-Ds. Everything else is bad.
Then his friend started laughing hysterically. He asked permission of the other guy to tell a story.
2nd Guy: He fucked her last week!
Me: Really? I thought she was too old and unattractive.
Guy: We're young men. We like to get stupid drunk. It's what we do. And she knows that. Whenever a cougar like her comes into a bar I text message all my friends telling them to stay away.
Me: So, you went home with her last week. Why not tonight?
Guy: I only drank 10 beers tonight.
2nd Guy: He'll do her again sooner or later. It's guaranteed.
Another interesting ride wasn't a ride at all, it was a chance to deliver justice. I was the only cab in front of a bar on the edge of downtown. A drunk guy in a suit walked out to the curb and whistled. I looked up. He whistled again, this time pointing angrily at the ground in front of his feet. He wanted me to drive about 30 feet to him, rather than walk to the cab.
I got out and said, "I'm sorry. My car won't start." He cursed, looked at his watch and walked back into the bar. Just before he got to the door, I started the car and drove off.
Even though I was the Town Clown tonight, I still made good money. If you drive enough locals, it amounts to a decent night. And I do feel like I saved a few lives. If any of the drunks I drove tonight had tried to drive themselves, it would have been curtains.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Lucky drunk
It's Monday, my day off. While I'm laying horizontally on the couch with 300 channels at my disposal, I'll post this gem from my 2006 journal.
Two men and two Marlboros
Aug. 6, 2006
Picked up a younger guy from a bar in National City, upper 20s or so, and after he got in he said to start the meter but to wait for a minute while he made a phone call.
He called his sister and explained that his brother-in-law, her husband, got lost. They had been out drinking and bar hopping, and at the last bar (where we were), he had just disappeared. His name was Mike.
After much worried discussion, I gathered they were going to hope he could find his own way home. He's a grown man.
I brought the kid to a house off of College Ave. and I-94. It was a $35 fare plus he gave me a $5 tip. It was a good ride. I wished him luck finding his brother-in-law.
Two hours later I got belled to the same bar, and it was a guy so drunk I almost drove off before he could get in. I asked if he was Mike, and sure enough, it was the missing drunk.
He was too drunk to speak, and went right to sleep in the back seat. It was lucky for him I already knew where he was going. En route I turned on the light occasionally to see if he was ralphing.
We got to the house and I had trouble rousting him. When he did come to, he tried to leave without paying. I said several times I need $35. Finally he dug into his pocket and got ... a pack of Marlboros. He gave me two cigarettes and tried to leave again.
Now I know why Muslims don't drink.
It was a five minute struggle, but I ended up with $35 plus the two cigarettes. I've had worse tips. Before leaving I made sure he had staggered all the way to the front door. He laid down on the top step. Good thing it was a warm night.
Two men and two Marlboros
Aug. 6, 2006
Picked up a younger guy from a bar in National City, upper 20s or so, and after he got in he said to start the meter but to wait for a minute while he made a phone call.
He called his sister and explained that his brother-in-law, her husband, got lost. They had been out drinking and bar hopping, and at the last bar (where we were), he had just disappeared. His name was Mike.
After much worried discussion, I gathered they were going to hope he could find his own way home. He's a grown man.
I brought the kid to a house off of College Ave. and I-94. It was a $35 fare plus he gave me a $5 tip. It was a good ride. I wished him luck finding his brother-in-law.
Two hours later I got belled to the same bar, and it was a guy so drunk I almost drove off before he could get in. I asked if he was Mike, and sure enough, it was the missing drunk.
He was too drunk to speak, and went right to sleep in the back seat. It was lucky for him I already knew where he was going. En route I turned on the light occasionally to see if he was ralphing.
We got to the house and I had trouble rousting him. When he did come to, he tried to leave without paying. I said several times I need $35. Finally he dug into his pocket and got ... a pack of Marlboros. He gave me two cigarettes and tried to leave again.
Now I know why Muslims don't drink.
It was a five minute struggle, but I ended up with $35 plus the two cigarettes. I've had worse tips. Before leaving I made sure he had staggered all the way to the front door. He laid down on the top step. Good thing it was a warm night.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
A few interesting fares tonight
"If we weren't fucking them, it would be open season on them."
I enjoy a good female joke as much as the next guy, but I failed to see any humor in that one. I told my favorite, which they enjoyed: "Have you heard that Japanese engineers have made a camera with a shutter fast enough to photograph a woman with her mouth shut?"
I mentioned that I once drove a couple from North Carolina who used to live next door to Tony Stewart. They reported that Stewart was just as much of an ass in person as he is on the race track.
Each was a big fan of auto racing. She likes Harvick and the 29 team, and he likes Jeff Gordon, team 24. Since I'm a Gordon fan, we made fun of Harvick for most of the trip -- good natured, not mean.
Friday, March 23, 2007
The rock pile
I picked up a drunk guy in a suit who was in San Diego for a business conference. He was going from a suburban Olive Garden restaurant to the Hyatt Grand Manchester on Harbor Drive. Traffic on I5 was light, but downtown was a different story. It was getting busy with people looking for a good time on a Friday night.
We were stuck in a line of traffic when, out of the blue, he told me his marriage is good, but he constantly cheats on his wife. He seemed to feel genuinely bad. "I can't control myself," he said. "I'd fuck a rock pile if I thought a woman was underneath it."
We were stuck in a line of traffic when, out of the blue, he told me his marriage is good, but he constantly cheats on his wife. He seemed to feel genuinely bad. "I can't control myself," he said. "I'd fuck a rock pile if I thought a woman was underneath it."
Sunday, March 18, 2007
First puker
3685 is the lucky number. In almost two years of driving cab I've never had a puker, until I picked up some drunken sailors tonight. Fortunately the guy jumped out at a red light when the time came. When all was said and done, he gave me $70 for a ride that came to $18 on the meter. He was ride No. 3685 since I've been driving a taxi (started April 1, 2005). Considering the big tip, I'd have to say puking is lucky.
Here's the screen grab of my Access table. Puke-boy was 3685.
Oddity of the evening: After I dropped off the sailors -- my last ride for the night -- Navy police pulled me over. I have expired registration! As the driver I'm required to have current license tags, but still! Me and the two guys I share the cab with spend around $2500 per month for the cab lease, and I expect administrative details to be handled by headquarters. I was let off without a ticket.
UPDATE 3/22/07: The puker was ride No. 3586, not 3685. It was record ID 3685, but the 3586th record. The numbers are coincidentally similar. There have been many deleted records, accounting for the difference between the two numbers (once a record is placed in an Access table, it is assigned an ID, which doesn't change, even if records before or after it are deleted).
So, Puke Boy was ride No. 3586.
Here's the screen grab of my Access table. Puke-boy was 3685.
Oddity of the evening: After I dropped off the sailors -- my last ride for the night -- Navy police pulled me over. I have expired registration! As the driver I'm required to have current license tags, but still! Me and the two guys I share the cab with spend around $2500 per month for the cab lease, and I expect administrative details to be handled by headquarters. I was let off without a ticket.
UPDATE 3/22/07: The puker was ride No. 3586, not 3685. It was record ID 3685, but the 3586th record. The numbers are coincidentally similar. There have been many deleted records, accounting for the difference between the two numbers (once a record is placed in an Access table, it is assigned an ID, which doesn't change, even if records before or after it are deleted).
So, Puke Boy was ride No. 3586.
