April 3, 2008
April 3, 2008 - Catheter Cab
Today a new nickname was coined for one of our fellow drivers. His taxi in particular. “Catheter Cab”. Not too long ago one of our other drivers, Bogna, who’s a piece of work herself, found a little surprise under Jorge’s seat. What was it might you ask. Oh, well it was a milk carton full of pee. Jorge though he was being sly when he told her that it was “lemonade.” Lemonade? Really? Bet it didn’t smell like lemonade…
Jorge pretty much never leaves his car for anything. Not even to go to the bathroom. I hope that he doesn’t poop in there, although I wouldn’t be surprised. I’d imagine that at some point in his 19 hour shift he would need to go number 2. What would he tell Bogna that the poop was? Cupcakes? Brownies? Whatever Jorge said would probably be illegible anyways. You ever find a frequency between two radio stations that pulls in a little from each channel. They overlap, like Jorge’s Spanish and English, although here it sounds like the Spanish station is in much closer proximity. I’m always amazed when people move here and reside in the states for years and never seem to acquire an English proficiency greater than that of a 7 year old. My coffee table probably has better English, and people skills, than Jorge. The microwave too.
Another time one of the drivers happened to find chicken bones under the seat. Why would you discard the bones under the seat? Me, I’d probably throw them out the window. At least if I was Cortez. They probably have had to hire an extra employee to pick up all of my trash. I could be creating jobs for people. Maybe they would put a detective on the case, although given what I’ve seen so far I’d have no reason to be worried. They seem pretty harmless. Don’t get me wrong, I think police do a great service to the community, however I think that their attention could be focused elsewhere sometimes. Here in candy ass Cortez at least. Underage smoking, jaywalking, and walking home drunk don’t strike me as huge problems.
“Catheter Cab” seems fitting but I’ve come up with a few nicknames of my own. How about “Commode Cab”? “Toilet Taxi?” Maybe “Cadaver Cab.” Son of a bitch looks half dead most of the time anyways. Maybe it has something to do with his 90 hour workweeks. I can only imagine how many transportation regulations he is violating. He used to have rows of books piled up on the dash. So tall that you would have trouble seeing over them. One of the drivers said that Catherine became aware of this and told Jorge that he isn’t able to live in the car anymore – one of the few sane things that I have ever heard of her doing by the way. Jorge would just work as many hours as he was physically able to do without passing out and then go to sleep in the back. Whenever he woke up he would go back to work.