September 4, 2007 – The Office

            So as my days progress here at Cortez Cab I am beginning to realize how peculiar of a company this in fact is.  Case in point, the office…

            Every time that I step into the office it goes something like this…

            There is a large, if not completely obese woman, often surrounded by other large women, sitting on an old beat up office chair with a small portable fan desperately trying to cooling her off.  As I continue into the office I see the accountant who is older than dirt, I don’t doubt that he has fond memories of life before electricity.  As I continue my journey through the mess of papers, post-it notes, and used car parts strewn about I see more large women as well as a number of cracked ceramic floor tiles – draw your own conclusions…  Everyone is unusually upbeat, and then come the metaphors about the lord.  The ubiquitous Christian music, the religious pamphlets, and smell of WD-40 linger ever so ominously.  As I make my way to the bathroom I see a set of detailed directions for changing a roll of paper towels.

            “To replace roll of towels: Place your right hand on the rolling pin (stick that goes through the center of the towel roll) and pull all the way out to the right.  Put the new towel roll between the brackets and push the pin back through the towel roll to the left. Thank you.”

            Is this not humorous for a number of reasons?  The fact that the office needs to aid it’s employees with detailed directions in tasks as simple as changing a paper towel roll I find funny, but perhaps what is even more comical is the fact that the note was obviously placed there because at some point in time someone must have been confused by the intricate inner workings of a paper towel roll holder composed of only two parts.  I also like the fact that the office had to refer to the rod that holds the paper towel roll as a “stick” in case the employees weren’t bright enough to figure out what a rolling pin was, as well as telling them which hand that they needed to use.  The only thing the note was lacking was a recommendation that employees have their eyes open when changing the roll… 

Perhaps the funniest thing about this is how the holder from the towel roll looks like it was nearly ripped from the wall – perhaps from an overly confused and frustrated employee?  The cliff notes must not have been posted yet…

            But it doesn’t end there, oh contraire.  As I look on the other bathroom wall, next to the rusted out sink that barely turns on and the moldy fixtures, is an apparent reference to a religious publication of some sorts.

            “Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.  See, darkness covers the earth and thick darkness is over the peoples, but the Lord rises upon you and his glory appears over you.”

            First off, is this not inappropriate in the workplace?  Second, what are you supposed to take away from this?  And third, why do I need to be reading this when I am taking a crap?

            As I wander out of the bathroom I see Bertha, who is the most obese of the office workers, hitting the scales at roughly 400 lbs.  I have a sneaking suspicion that there is a connection between Bertha and the broken floor tiles.   And Bertha is MEAN.  But there is one thing that seems to calm her…  Right now, Bertha is sitting in front of a computer listening to music about “the lord.”  Are you supposed to capitalize “lord?’  Well, I’m not going to consider it to be a proper noun.   The jury’s still out on that one.  Anyways, as I look at the playlist it seems that every song has the word “god,” “Jesus,” or “lord” in it.  She just sits there staring at an old CRT monitor from probably 10 years ago – one of the offices many antiques.  Of course, like everyone else in this nether realm that is commonly referred to as “the office,” Bertha loves “the lord.”  Probably not as much as she loves jelly donuts, pizza, or hot dogs though.

            If that weren’t strange enough, there’s the back office…  This is Catherine’s lair.  The back office is draped in carpeting and furniture circa 1972.  This place could have served as an alternate set for the Merv Griffin show if only the Merv Griffin Show had a musty smell and dozens of boxes and papers stacked many feet tall, covered in dust and strewn about in a dimly lit room.

September 1, 2007 – My First Ticket

So this really isn’t my 1^st ticket, just my first one while driving a taxi.  I’m not happy.  The officer said that I rolled a stop sign, which I’m skeptical about.  It’s quite possible that I really did roll it, but honestly I wasn’t paying that much attention as whether or not I made a “complete” stop.  It must have been REALLY close.

            There isn’t really much going on here in Cortez.  Most of the police calls are regarding stolen bicycles, curfew violators, and drunk and disorderly issues. When they’re really bored they crack down on underage smoking and jaywalking.  Small town stuff.  So since the cops have lots of free time they apparently feel the need to write petty tickets to people who are just trying to put in an honest days work.  Sure you could say that they are doing their job, which they are, but there’s something called discretion…

            What really steamed me about the whole thing was that Ralph, another driver with the company, got a ticket from the same officer at the same place 10 minutes after me.  Some people believe in coincidences – I don’t.

P.S. - Just a few other things about the ticket.  First off there was absolutely no traffic, it was at 11:55 at night! Also, the  violation location listed was different from where the officer said the violation occurred.  

Here he is, here's that son of a bitch who wrote me the ticket.

August 29, 2007 – Big Mama

Bogna seems like nice enough of lady, although some of the more seasoned drivers have opinions of their own.  I’ve spoken with Bogna several times over the last several months and always have had nice conversations.  She immigrated from Poland a few years ago and has been driving a taxi since.  One of our Polish drivers, who suffice it to say is not particularly fond of her, calls her “Big Mama.”

            Word on the street is that Big Mama gets the better rides fed to her over her cell phone by the office.  Usually the best rides are long ones, and Big Mama gets more than her fair share it seems.   Today I got a ride at the shores that was a “personal” for Big Mama.  She was not able to take it because she was coming back from a fare to the airport and the man wanted to leave right away.  A “personal” is when a customer either calls you directly or calls the office and asks for you. 

            Well I got Big Mama’s personal today, and it was a good one.  He went all the way from The Palms condominium complex in Cortez to Solana Beach, an $88 dollar ride.  Funny thing was that he didn’t even know Big Mama.  Seems strange to me that he would request a person who he had never met.  I was actually the only contact the man had with the taxi company.  Earlier in the day I picked him up from the ferry landing where the ferry coming from San Diego drops you off and brought him to The Palms. 

            A few days ago I got a similar story from a driver named Rejinaldo.  A few months back Rejinaldo got what you might call a miracle cab fare to Los Angeles.  This is like a $400 ride.  I’ve never driven anyone to Los Angeles, actually very few drivers have.  There are drivers who have been here for 10 years and haven’t driven anyone to Los Angeles.  Point is it’s rare.

            So Rejinaldo is coming back and spots Big Mama in her taxi in Pasadena of all places with passengers!  Not one word about it was ever mentioned on the radio.  What are the chances of that?  How often does this happen that the office feeds her a great ride that no one ever hears about?  Sometimes she just disappears for hours on end.  It’s not right, I know that much.

            The drivers say that Big Mama knows the key to the dispatches hearts. PASTRIES! It seems like every few days she stops in and drops off some goodies for the office workers.  They are said to be particularly fond of her dumplings as well as a wide variety of confectionaries.  My guess it the office workers are fond of pretty much anything, as long as it’s not green, leafy, or grow in the ground.  They don’t seem to be too fond of exercise either.

August 22, 2007 – Pedicabs and the Bridge

            Downtown they have these things called “Pedicabs.”  They’re sort of like a rickshaw.  There is a guy, or girl, that is riding a bicycle in the front and there is a big booth in the back that seats 2 to 3 people.  They’re mostly seen downtown.  I haven’t seen one yet in Cortez.

            I picked up a girl in the cab a few days ago that told me an interesting story.  I don’t remember much else about the ride.  Anyways, she told me that she takes pedicabs every once in a while when there are absolutely no taxis around.  Taxi’s can be hard to find in the Gaslamp district, which is right downtown next to the convention center and the baseball field.  It’s super busy down there most weekends as it is, and if you are trying to get a cab on St. Patrick’s Day, or the 4^th of July, or New Years Eve, it’s practically impossible.  You can be waiting there for hours.  I’ve seen people still looking for cabs at 5 a.m. on holidays like this still looking for cabs.

            The girl told me that once she took a pedicab from the Gaslamp to Cortez, which I’m pretty sure you can’t do by the way because only vehicles are allowed on the bridge back to Cortez  You can go around the bay to get back but it is like 25 miles, way too long to take a pedicab.  Anyways this girl insisted that she had done so and when she arrived she was told the fare was some exorbitant sum of money.  Like $200 or something rediclious.  She said that since they didn’t have that much money her friend just fucked the pedicab driver.  I guess that’s one way to pay off the debt…

            Like I said though, the story didn’t really add up, so who knows what really happened.  You can’t even walk across the bridge to Cortez.  Every once in a while someone tries to walk across and the CHP picks them up about half way.  The Highway Patrol isn’t too happy about this, my guess is that the people are arrested.  There’s signs posted everywhere telling you that it is for motorized vehicles only, so you can’t claim that you didn’t know.  It would scare the shit out of me trying to walk across that bridge anyways with cars whizzing by at 65 mph or so.  The speed limit is 50 mph by the way but there is nowhere for cops to sit and clock your speed.  There isn’t a lot of room up there, just lanes for cars, and there’s only 5 of them. A moveable barrier is moved twice daily to accommodate traffic patterns.   In the morning there are 3 lanes going on to the “island” and  in the evening there are 3 lanes going off the “island” once the barrier is shifted.

            Whenever there is a problem on the bridge, as there frequently is, things get clogged up pretty quick.  Cars break down or run out of gas, people try walking across, accidents happen, and every once in a while people jump off.  It’s pretty rare, but people actually jump to their death sometimes.  Some live, although I would imagine it’s pretty rare, it’s like 200 feet up.  Someone told me sort of a morbid fact the other day – That the bridge into Cortez ranks 2^nd among bridges in the number of yearly suicides, only surpassed by the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco.  Don’t think that’s in the tourist brochures…

August 21, 2007 – The New Roommate

            So recently I moved out of Normal Heights and into Ocean Beach.  Technically it may be Pt. Loma but one of the nicer parts, not like Loma Portal where all of the bums hang out.  Anyways, I moved in with a mutual friend.  Dave is cool and all but living with him I noticed a few things.  First, he’s a compulsive liar.  He just makes shit up, for no good reason even.  And second, he’s a slob.  Dave rarely does the dishes, and if it appears that he did the dishes they are probably just hidden under the sink, which is absolutely filthy by the way.

            Like I said, I like Dave, but you’re 31 years old, clean up your act already.  None of this is too big of deal I guess though, I am only home when I am sleeping usually.  He has friends over often, and they are quite LOUD, but I’m a heavy sleeper so whatever.  I mean hey, it’s his place too.

            Funny thing, I have been seeing these ridiculous fiction novels laying around the pad.  One in particular, “Beastmaster Circus,” has been sitting around for weeks.  It was sitting on the coffee table before I even moved in.  Truthfully I’ve never seen him reading it, and with a title like that I can understand why…

            Also, my room is TINY!  I’ve seen prisoners with nicer living quarters than this, and often times they have cable tv!  REALLY!  There’s your tax dollars hard at work people.  My room has got to be less than 100 sq ft.  I had to make a special wooden stand for my bed that was elevated like 4 ft off the ground just to store my stuff.  But the view is nice.

August 19, 2007 – What Have You Done With Our Driver?

            Passenger: Take us to 487  Mar-----

            Passenger: Holy shit, look at this Kevin, it’s a white guy.

Me: Yup.  I also have all my teeth, wear deodorant, know how to get to where you are going, and my cab doesn’t smell like old socks.  Are you sure you want me, I’d be glad to call you another cab if you would like.

Passenger: (Laughing) No that’s quite alright.  We don’t see many Anglo’s.

Me: (Laughing) I’m sure you don’t.  That’s what you might call an anomaly.

Passenger: You got that right.

Passenger: Who’s that BITCH who answers the phone anyways?

Me: (Laughing) I see you had the pleasure of meeting Julie.

More on Julie later…

August 18, 2007 - The New Cab Partner

             For the last week or so now I have been paired up with a new cab partner.  Salvo is his name.  He seems nice.  He said that he would call me if he leaves early too so I can come in early and make a little extra money.  Well dressed and polite as well.

August 16, 2007 - The $300 Ride

            As I drop off my passengers downtown two drunks hop in, a man and a woman in their late 20’s to early 30’s.

             Me: Hey, sorry guys, I can’t pick up here.

             Man: It’s cool.

             Me: No, It’s not cool, I can’t pick up here, I don’t have the proper permit.

             Man: Come on man! I’ll give you $300.

            Me: I’m sure you will, but I really can’t pick up here.

            Man: Nah, it’s cool.

            Me: NO.  I REALLY CAN’T.

            Man: No, it’s fine, just take us.

            Me:  Yeah, whatever. Alright fine.  Were are you going?

            So after he informs me that we are going to Pacific Beach, which is a decent ride, especially at the end of the night when I might not get another fare, I decide to take them.  Before driving off I look around to make sure no one noticed.  It’s dead and there are no cabs around to pick these guys up anyways, and since they refuse to get out of my cab I might as well take them. 

            So I hear all this commotion in the back and low and behold they are screwing right in the back seat.  I really don’t care as long as it stays in the back seat and they don’t make a mess, although it is a little awkward...

So we are approaching our destination and they are still busy in back so they give me the go ahead to just drive around.  Then they want to go to Ocean Beach, by now the fare is $47, nothing to scoff at.

             Man: Thanks

             Me: Hey, no problem.

             Man: Hey can you wait for me?

Me: Where are you going afterwards? (If they are only going a short distance afterwards I usually don’t wait, in cases like that it usually isn’t worth my time.  Anyways, it’s like 2 in the morning by now and I’m exhausted.)

Man: To Rancho Santa Fe

Me: Sure, I’ll wait.

Then the man starts to walk with the woman into her house.  Often if someone asks you to wait for them, especially at night, it is good to ask them to pay what is currently on the meter, and sometimes the waiting time in advance.  Sometimes the people don’t come back out because they decided that they didn’t want the cab anymore, or fell asleep.  Either way, that leaves me holding the bag, so to speak.

Me: Hey, you have to pay me.

Man: Ok. Here’s $20

Me: No, you have to pay what’s already on the meter, and leave me a deposit to wait.

Man: (Agitated) I have money.

Me: I’m sure you do, but it’s just procedure.

Man: Fine. (As he hands me a hundred dollar bill) Don’t fuck me.

Me: Hey, if you’re going to Rancho Santa Fe, I’d be more than happy to wait for you, but sometimes people go inside and don’t come back out.  Requesting a deposit is something that I do for everyone.  Nothing personal.  Waiting time is $20 per hour, so for $53 you have roughly 2 ½ hours, which is plenty of time.  If you don’t give me a call or come out before the meter hits $100 I’ll drive off and take your hundred with me for my time.  Here’s my number.

Man: Thanks, I’ll be about thirty minutes.

Me: Ok

Sure enough he came out about thirty minutes later and decided to go to Rancho Santa Fe.  The fare was $127.  He gives me two more one hundred dollar bills.

Me: You already gave me a hundred.

Man: I know.

            Son of a bitch actually gave me $300, that’s a $173 tip.  That almost never happens. When it’s busy or there are no cabs around, people will tell you almost anything to get a ride.  No mess in the back seat either, everything went off without a hitch.

August 11, 2007 – Games on the Radio

            Often times when I come to work there are drivers improperly using the radio.  It can be comical, frustrating, or both. 

            

            I usually come to work about 3.  I have noticed that the drivers who work in the morning are a little more, well cutthroat, for lack of a better term.  I have begun to notice a pattern.  There are a few drivers in particular that are not well liked, some are outright despised.

            One of the drivers Jorge, has been attempting to call in for call in for the last 3 minutes or so.  Every time he tries to get through on the radio someone cuts off his transmission. 

            Jorge: Cab 132

            Dispatch: Who’s calling?

            Jorge: Cab 1-------

            Dispatch: Who?

            Jorge: Cab 13------

            Jorge: Cab 1--------

            Jorge: Cab 13------

            Dispatch: Who’s calling!

            Jorge: Cab 1------

            Jorge: Cab ------2

            Jorge: Cab ------32

            Dispatch: I can’t make out your number?

            Jorge: You guys have fun?

            Jorge: Cab 1-----2

            Jorge: Cab ------2

            (Unknown 1): “Farting noises”

            (Unknown 2): “Burping noises and laughing”

            Jorge: Cab -----3-----

            Dispatch: Stop it! Let the driver talk!

You get the point.  This goes on for several more minutes.  Jorge doesn’t have a cell phone so his only way to contact the office is to get through on the radio, which obviously isn’t working, or to find a pay phone.  This is a frequent occurrence with Jorge.  Not many drivers like Jorge, and from what I understand for good reason.  I was talking with one such driver just yesterday.  Jefferson was his name.

Jefferson is probably one of the best drivers that we have here at the company.  Intelligent, articulate, honest, polite – lets just say that he doesn’t fit the mold…

Anyways, here’s the deal.  When a customer calls the dispatcher looks on a board with a series of pegs with corresponding cab numbers.  The pegs are placed in the order that the drivers had dropped off their passengers and once again became available for calls.  The purpose of the pegs is so that the dispatcher can easily look at the board and see what driver cleared with their passenger first and is first up for calls from the dispatcher.  Jefferson dropped off his passenger 30 minutes ago and he is now first in line.  Jorge dropped off 5 minutes ago so he is sixth in line for calls.

Dispatch: Cab 407 (Jefferson)

Cab 407: Go ahead.

Dispatch: Go to 1459 Main Street.

Cab 407: 10-4

Several minutes pass…

Cab 407: Cab 407 (Your first transmission always starts with your cab no.)

Dispatch: Cab 407 go ahead.

Cab 407: There’s no one here.

Dispatch: Are you sure, they just called?

Cab 407: Yeah, the neighbor said a van taxi came by and picked them up.

Dispatch: I don’t know what they are talking about, none of our vans called in a ride from there.  Were they sure.

Cab 407: I’m not sure, I’ll wait here for a minute, can you leave me 1^st for calls.

Dispatch: (Sighs) 10-4

Meanwhile, Jorge has already picked up Jefferson’s passenger and failed to mention it to the dispatcher.  Normally Jorge would have been able to get away with this.  That is if he would have taken a second to turn his radio down.  As Jefferson relayed to the office that he was at the address with no sign of the person, the passenger overheard the conversation and realized that the cab that he was riding in wasn’t the one that had been sent for him.  After the passenger was dropped off he called the office to let them know that he had indeed gotten picked up, by Jorge.

Dispatch: Cab 197. (Jorge)

Cab 197: Go ahead.

Dispatch: Land line (Make a phone call) the office.

            Of course it wouldn’t be that easy for Jorge, first he had to find a pay phone…

August 9, 2007 – Items Given to me by Passengers

            Today a jolly old bloke from England gave me a gift, and a nice tip to boot!  He was off to the airport when he realized that he had been given a bottle of vodka that he never got around to drinking.

            

            Passenger: Do you want this to bring home?
            Me: Really, are you sure?

            Passenger: Yeah, I can’t bring it on the plane anyways.  Here, take it.

            Me: Thanks, I appreciate it.  It won’t go to waste.
            Passenger: I’m sure it won’t.

            Bestowed upon me was a sealed bottle of vodka.  Absolute brand vodka.  Pretty good stuff.  Not top of the line, but nothing to scoff at either. Especially for free.   

             This was given to me as well, this was all that was left out of my six pack, of beer that is, the other one disappeared long ago...

August 8, 2007 - Car Washes

By now you if you have been reading my blog you know what my stance is on car washes.  I think it’s reasonable to have the car washed periodically, but it doesn’t need it every week.  Although maybe my perspective is a little skewed, I probably only wash my car once every 15 months or so.  Catherine’s been on my ass about it though so I guess that I’ll do it to appease her.   I’m sure it’ll really make all those different shades of yellow my taxi has shimmer.

            Doesn’t that look beautiful.  Would it have taken too long to tape off the edges of the license plate so that no yellow paint would get on it?

August 4, 2007 - The Cadillac

            As I walked to my taxi two men who were in quite a rush approached and asked if I was a driver and whether or not I was in service.

            

            Kyle: How much to San Onofre State Beach?
            Me: Boy, I don’t know but it’s gotta be a lot.

            Me: Probably around $150.

            Kyle: How about $100?
            Me: Alright.

            Normally I wouldn’t have bothered with this low ball offer, but it has been slow lately and truthfully if I made $100 day working in Cortez I’d be surprised.  So I drove Kyle and his passenger up to San Onofre.  I don’t know how much it would have been, I forgot to start the meter. 

            So apparently what happened was Kyle and his helper Alex were driving down from San Francisco in a moving truck that was towing an old Cadillac.  They made it down the majority of the way and then stopped over to get some gas in Irvine.  While they were getting some gas they noticed that the hitch that was holding on the Cadillac had a large crack in it.  If they kept driving there was a chance it could break and the Cadillac could be unleashed into a sea of moving traffic, careening aimlessly, like a drunken hobo.  There was a problem however…

            Kyle had been driving the whole way and had not anticipated that Alex may have to take the wheel at some point.  Problem was that Alex didn’t have a license.  Kyle decided that the best option was to unhook the Cadillac and have Alex drive it a few miles down the road to where they could park it for a while until they figured a way of getting it to Cortez.  It was just too risky to have an unlicensed person drive the car another 55 miles to Cortez.  Kyle’s plan was to find a taxi when he got to Cortez that would take him back up to San Onofre to drive the Cadillac back.  The moving truck would stay in Cortez for the mean time.

            As we drove up to San Onofre we all talked and got to know each other a little better.  Alex and Kyle had a small operation out of the bay area where they worked as movers.  They said that they would do long trips often but worked exclusively in California.  Kyle had started the business a few years ago. 

            Right before you get to San Onofre State Beach there is a large checkpoint operated by the border patrol.  When they asked us where we were coming from they got different answers from Kyle and Alex.  Actually, both of their answers were correct.  Kyle said that they were coming from Cortez, and Alex said that they were coming from San Francisco.  Mr. Border Patrol became suspicious.  They ordered us out gave us a round of questioning and proceeded with their dog and pony show.  Nothing too fancy, just a few agents looking around with flashlights, mirrors, and shit eating grins.  Shortly thereafter we were back on our way.  We pulled up to the Cadillac but there was a problem.  One crucial element was overlooked.  They didn’t have the ignition key.

            Turns out that the lady who hired them to do the move only gave them the door key, not the ignition key as well.  There was no way of getting the car started.  They were baffled and obviously distraught.  They weren’t happy, they had spent a hundred dollars, without a tip by the way which would have been much appreciated since I knocked $50 off of their ride. 

            Kyle: Well, I guess you can just bring us back to Cortez.
            Me: What are you going to do about the car? 

Kyle: I don’t know.  All I know is that Betty is getting off the plane in 30 minutes and we said that we would pick her up. 

Me: Well, you could get the key from her for the ignition at least then.

Kyle: I guess so.

Me: Sorry guys.  The ride back is on me but the trip to the airport is an unscheduled stop so you have to pay for that.  It’ll be about $25.

Kyle: That’s fine.

             So we pick up Betty and bring her back to Cortez and drop her at her house.  Kyle told her that they would do the unpacking in the morning as it was dark now.  She was fine with that.  Kyle did however get the key for the car. 

Kyle: Thanks for the ride, it was good talking to you.

Me: What are you going to do about the car, you probably can’t leave it there overnight, and they might tow it.

Kyle: Yeah, but there’s nothing that I can do.

Me: I could drive it back for you.  Now that you have the key, if you want to give me a ride up there in your moving truck I’ll drive it back for you. 

Kyle: I can’t afford to pay you another $100 to do that for me.

Me: I agree, but I think $50 would be fair.

Kyle: Ok

                          So we did just that.  Around 9:30 we got back into Cortez with the Cadillac.  They were relieved, and I was happy because I had a better day than I was expecting, and it was kind of exciting.  Kyle got a good deal as well, any other driver may have refused to budge and they would have had to spend probably $300 on cab fares alone.  We shook hands and went on our separate ways, and I went home.

August 1, 2007 - The Biter

            Just got a call at Donny’s Bar and Grill.  Donny’s is known for churning our drunks going to the Navy base so I’m not particularly excited.  It’s known locally as a seal bar, as in Navy seals.  Sometimes the sailors tell interesting stories, but usually it is just a short ride without much time for conversation.  Meaningful conversation that is...

            

             When I arrive three attractive girls get in who are going to Little Italy, an Italian themed area in San Diego by the airport. It’s mostly Italian restaurants, hence the name.  Anyways, after a little small talk one of the girls in the back shows a particular interest in me.  She starts massaging my neck.  I’m not a big massage guy, but I don’t object.  I find that most people give too hard of a massage, to the point of where it’s not pleasurable.  This went on for a few minutes, then she moved on to other areas a little further down the way.  Her friends were visibly annoyed, but hey, that’s not my problem.  Maybe not as annoyed as worried due to the fact that I’m swerving in and out of my lane.  It’s their friend, there’s no reason that they can’t step up and say anything.  So now she unzips my trousers and starts massaging my nether regions.  You ever try to drive a car while you’re getting a handjob.  Well, let me tell you it’s TOUGH!  (Technically I’m not sure that this constituted a handjob, but it was pretty fucking close, for all intents and purposes.)

           

               After another minute or so she lifted up my shirt and began breathing heavily and kissing my stomach.  I was occupied, the steering wheel in one hand and her supple breast in the other.  This went on for a few minutes until out of nowhere she bit down right on my stomach.  It would have been sensual if it weren’t so fucking hard.  AAAGGGGGHHHH I gasped, as I jerked the wheel and careened into the other lane.

             We got to her friends place and they promptly hopped out.  My guess is that they were happy that they made it home in one piece.  I was kind of in a pickle, I couldn’t really do much right here, being on duty in a company vehicle and all.  If anyone were to see what was going on and inform Catherine that a cab driver had been spotted in his cab doing who knows what on a public street the shit would have really hit the fan.  I hopped in the back and we both did a little “exploring” of each other.   I offered stopping by my place, which was only ten minutes away, but she didn’t bite, again at least, although this time it would have been welcomed…

July 28, 2007 - Transients

           Had an interesting conversation with a man from Atlanta today.  He was here on business for a conference on IT security.  We talked a bit about that and then the conversation shifted to the ubiquitous presence of bums in the city.  Many of them hover around downtown, but they can be found nearly everywhere.  I know some of you are saying that’s mean, or not politically correct.  Right.  Well perhaps, but I’m getting a little tired of walking through Balboa Park and seeing them urinating in the bushes, farting, burping, drying their dirty clothes on the sidewalks, leaving all their trash and empty 40oz bottles everywhere, shouting aimlessly, shitting behind buildings, getting in fights with other vagrants, asking me for money, and perhaps worst of all attracting other bums.  Many of them have fleas.  Yes FLEAS!  I don’t make this shit up.  I’d hate be a business owner and have them sitting out front.  There are certain gas stations that I don’t even go to anymore because I got tired of being hassled by smelly lazy individuals.

            Anyways my passenger wasn’t too fond of them either.  He told me an interesting story.  Back in 1996 the summer Olympics came to Atlanta.  In preparation they rounded up a large number of the bums in the city and told they that they could get a bus ticket anywhere that they wanted, but that they couldn’t stay in Atlanta.  He told me that the City of Atlanta offered them a bus ticket to anywhere in the country.  I’m not sure if this is true or not but it makes you wonder.  If so, I’m sure that some of them were happy to leave.  The man said that many of them migrated to San Diego before the Olympics took place.  What a nice gesture of them, passing the buck so to speak.

           This is a transient that I saw in Loma Portal the other day.  He looks quite dashing in that girls high school cheerleading outfit with his greasy tattered hair.  Before he walked past me he was just mumbling and cursing and I could smell his foul body odor from fifteen feet away.  Disgusting.  

            
     

July 27, 2007 – The Chilango and Pure Platinum

Today I was sent to “The Palms”, which is a large condominium complex.  Or perhaps better known as the “Taco Towers” to the locals.  I didn’t come up with the nickname, the people who inhabit the condos did, so no hate mail ok.  I have heard numerous people who live there refer to the towers as such, actually it’s Mexicans that live there for the most part who call it that.  They have a good sense of humor.  Until recently I wasn’t familiar with the term.

             

            I was on the cab stand yesterday and overheard two Mexican drivers talking about “Chilangos.”  When I asked what “Chilangos” were they told me that it was a slang term for wealthy Mexicans that were natives of Mexico City.  From what I gather it didn’t harbor a negative connotation.

            

            Then I realized that I had picked up a Chilango just the other day.  When I arrived, a man in his late 50’s approached. He was well dressed and wanted to go to a strip club that he had been to the night before.  He sort of looked like a spokes person for Dos Equis.  Now that I think about it that’s what he was drinking that night.  Huh. 

 He was quite drunk and his English was terrible but we were able to still converse a little.  He told me that he was out visiting his daughter who lives in The Palms for a week or so.  When we got to the strip club, Pure Platinum it was called he asked me to join him inside.  Being how it was a busy night I told him that I had to go back to Cortez and try to make a little more money for the night.  This guy was persistent.  He even tried tugging me out of the car.  I was getting a little irritated, but the man had such a jovial demeanor that I just couldn’t be angry with him. 

After a bit I agreed, but with an agreement.  I told the man that I could only stay for 90 mins tops, that he would have to pay the meter for the way there as well as to take a ride back in my taxi, pay whatever waiting time accumulated, and that he would have to pay my cover.  He gladly obliged.

He was quite accommodating, overly so in fact.  He kept trying to buy me water, which I wasn’t interested in.  He didn’t care, even at $8 per bottle.  $8 per bottle? Really?  This guy bought me three waters, I think I only drank one. 

So the 90 minute mark had come and passed and  I was ready to go.  This wasn’t exactly some classy joint either.  Problem was that this guy was absolutely smitten with this one girl.  She was Hispanic as well, although he was convinced that she was Russian for some reason.   He kept looking over to me and telling me how beautiful she was.  She was not.  But I humored him, how could I not.  I think he was buying her drinks too, I could only imagine what they cost.  He wasn’t worried, and I wouldn’t be either if I had a quarter inch thick stack of hundreds in my hand.  This guy was spending money like it was water.  $8 water to be exact.

What was really obnoxious was that all these strippers from the club kept coming up to me and asking me if I “want a dance.”  I tried being nice about it and simply told them that I wasn’t there by choice and that I was actually trying to get my passenger to leave.  One stripper/hooker came up to me and got right to the chase.  “Do you have any money for me,” she said.  “Nope” I offered.  Needless to say she wasn’t thrilled.  But seriously, that’s pretty fucking rude.  I’m not one of your regular shitbag customers who just got off his job at the cannery and decided to start the night off at 5 p.m. on a Tuesday with a round of the clubs cheapest beer.  Give me a little credit.

After a bit the man had grown fond of another girl and abandoned the “Russian.”   Well since I was his company she started hounding me for money.  She quickly realized that I wasn’t interested and dropped the subject.  Then she let is slip that the Chilango had gotten so drunk that he actually bought a lap dance with her and forgot to cash it in.  Well why let it go to waste right?

So we made our way over to the other side where they had these barstool like objects that she sat me down on.  Not only were here movements jerky and sporadic she was overwhelmingly ugly.  I couldn’t really get a good look at her earlier.  I was quickly regretting my decision…  She had an ass that was probably twice as wide as her torso, complete with lumpy cellulite, a big gap between her front teeth, and worst of all, this creepy lazy eye that she kept gazing at me with.  Needless to say the lap dance sucked, thank god I didn’t pay for it.  It’s a shame though because I bet the Chilango would have really enjoyed it.

By now it’s nearing 2 a.m. and the bouncers are scrambling to get everyone out of there and my passenger isn’t interested.  The manager then comes over and speaks to my fare in Spanish instructing him that it’s time to go.  Then the bouncers came over.  After escorting my passenger out of the club we went back to Cortez.  When we arrived back at The Palms the man gave me $120 for a $100 fare.  I was pleasantly surprised, and satisfied, but tired.  It was time for bed.

July 23, 2007 - Earl

              Earl is out driving again.  No one really knows why… 

           

              Earl is Catherine’s father.  He used to own/run the company.  He may still own it, I’m not really sure.  Anyways, Earl is way to old to be driving a cab.  I have no idea how old the Earl is, from the looks of it probably in his mid to late 80’s.  Yesterday one of the drivers made a funny comment about how Earl is really starting to look like a mummy.  Now that I think about it he does look like a mummy.  One that wasn’t wrapped in gauze of course.  Most of the time Earl has a glazed over look on his face with his mouth agape.  He has no business being behind the wheel of a large automobile, and it’s not like there are no warning signs about his driving either.  He gets into car accidents like they’re going out of style.  I bet Helen Keller has a better driving record than Earl.  One of our regular customers, Mrs. David, routinely checks with the drivers to see is Earl is still driving.  Mrs. David is absolutely terrified to drive with him and recently has refused to continue doing so.

P.S. This is just someone who shares a likeness to "Earl."

          Also, I heard a funny quote the other day, It came from a funny SNL skit, when SNL was still funny, which has long passed.  Anyways, it was from a segment called "Deep Thoughts with Jack Handey."  I found this quite fitting.

           "When I die, I would like to go peacefully in my sleep, like my grandfather did.  Not screaming and yelling like the passenger in his car."- Jack Handey

July 22, 2007 - El Mejor

            Franco doesn’t like to play by the rules and this has created trouble for him over his years here at Cortez Cab.  Turns out that Franco steals rides, and he does it often.  Problem is that he is not clever enough to disguise what he is doing.  One day one of the drivers who had been done wrong by Franco decided to have a word with him.  Franco got a fist right to the face, as well as a broken nose.  From what the drivers told me this happened years ago and Franco still hasn't changed.  I think having my nose broken would be enough for me to stop stealing other drivers rides, but that’s just me…

            

             Catherine offered the driver who broke Franco’s nose, Adolfo, an ultimatum.  Adolfo had the option to either leave the company, or to pay for Franco’s medical bills.  Adolfo figured that he was better off cutting his losses and leaving the company.  Adolfo was quite personable and is missed by the drivers who worked with him.  My best guess is that Catherine took care of things with Franco’s bills.

           

             As the days progress and I talk to more and more of the drivers interesting stories like this keep coming to light.  It seems a little strange to continue employment of a company worker who battered another co-worker.  This wasn’t exactly a little scuffle that we’re talking about.  Wouldn’t the police usually be called in such a situation, and if nothing else wouldn’t the employee be fired?

           

          Just seems a little odd that’s all.

July 17, 2007 - The Texan

Today wasn’t very exciting. It was rather slow actually, which can be nice sometimes too.  Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather it was busy and I was making lots of money, but I like a little relaxation here and there at work too.  Usually when it’s slow I get together with the other drivers on the cab stand and just shoot the breeze about whatever.  One observation that I have made is that there seems to be a correlation between how long someone has been with the company and how dissatisfied they are with it.  Their dissatisfaction seems to stem from a number of things, many of which seen to be unrelated to their job.

            

            Anyways, I had a good customer today.  We talked for a while about politics, the weather, our hometowns, and what’s fun to do in Cortez.  Cindy was her name.  She was going to the airport to catch a flight back to Dallas, TX.  I find Texas to be an interesting state.  Everything seems so different there, especially compared to California.  Cindy told me that in Texas you can bring your gun to the restaurant, the movies, the grocery store etc...  Actually in California you can do that too, except your gun has to be completely visible and it can’t be loaded.  You can’t even have your ammunition on the same side of your body as the gun.  Never understood the reasoning behind that…  Then again, there are a lot of things that I don’t understand about California.

            

            Cindy was a gun owner and appeared quite fond of Texas and it’s politics.  So we got to the airport and the fare totaled $24.60.  Cindy gave me a $50 and said keep it.  I’m happy with a dollar or two so when I get double the fare it’s a great ride.  I guess things really are bigger in Texas.

July 15, 2007 - Blown Engine

            I got a call from Francio today.  It appears that the engine in Cab 103 has blown, albeit this isn’t a big surprise to me.

            

           Yesterday was a busy day, I wasn’t keeping track but I probably took 15 rides or so.  It was a little busy for me to check all the fluids in the car.  Truthfully I’ve already gotten a little lax about this.  The trip (taxi log) sheets too for that matter.  It takes time to do this each day, although not much, and just taking the time to check the oil and coolant can take a few minutes.  This may not seem like a long time, and it’s not, but in that few minutes a few drivers may clock into work and I may be a few spots back in the taxi order (lineup).  This may cost me a fare at the end of the night, and if the average fare is probably around $12 that is a good enough reason to get right to work.

Anyways, towards the end of my shift I heard this sound that appeared to be a knocking in the engine.   It didn’t sound terrible and I felt that perhaps I was over analyzing things…

So yeah, the blown engine was primarily my fault because the taxi had only like a quart or two of oil when Francio finally checked it.  Although Francio didn’t check it immediately either.  He thought that he would wait until the engine seized and the car was undriveable before he checked it. 

After hearing of the bad news I received a strange call from Catherine.  She indirectly accused me of destroying the car, though in a strange way.  Catherine told me that since I had not been washing the car it was likely that I had not been checking the oil either.  These are things I consider to be unrelated. 

I had not been washing the car, this much is true, but for different reasons.  I don’t wash the car because it costs me time and money and customers really don’t care if the car is dirty, unless the car is absolutely filthy perhaps.  It’s like painting a turd, sure it may look nicer, but it’s still a turd.  I really don’t appreciate Catherine’s passive-aggressive manner of talking to me about these matters.  Anyways, many of these cars have racked up hundreds of thousands of miles, things are likely to break sooner or later.  That doesn’t exonerate me in the current situation however.  

July 12, 2007 – My Not So Clever Co-workers

I’m beginning to see what the guy who was training me, Julio, was talking about in regards to the drivers, and how they’ll step on your feet to get what they want.  None of their methods are very clever. 

            

            So here’s how it works.  We have a radio in each taxi that we use to contact the office.  Taxi drivers are required, by the City of Cortez if no one else, to call in whenever they pick up a passenger and state the pickup location as well as the eventual destination, to comply with record keeping requirements. 

            

            Problem is that only one driver is able to transmit over the frequency at once, and when there are 20 drivers or so working this can be difficult.  Many drivers however don’t respect the call in order.  It’s like anything else, you wait your turn in line and wait till everyone else has already called.  If nothing else it’s common courtesy. 

            

            Some of the drivers, more often than not, choose do disregard this informal agreement that we have as drivers at the company.  They may either jump to the front of the line or key their radio’s mic as to cut off the radio transmission of whoever is talking.  There are a number of ways that these drivers attempt to manipulate the system, although none of them are very clever.  If nothing else it’s obnoxious, but if I have been waiting and another driver just jumps in it’s unfair as well.  When drivers do this I have to wait longer to be given a call by dispatch, and if I have to wait longer for a call chances are that I won’t be able to take as many rides during my shift– hence less money.

            

A caricature of one of our bandido cab drivers

           

          The main other way that some of drivers try to circumvent the company policy is to maintain their spot in the order of cabs that are waiting for calls while taking a fare.  The drivers have coined a term for this.  “Smuggling.”  For all practical purposes this is taking a ride without calling it out.  This is dishonest as well because it gives that driver an unfair advantage over the other drivers to make more money, and is doing it at everyone else’s expense.   It’s not very dignified, that’s for sure.

P.S. - This is not one of our actual drivers, just what I feel to be a comical caricature of one.

July 7, 2007 - Roid Rage

Earlier as I attempted to enter the bridge back to Cortez, the local police waived me down with their flashlights and instructed me to pick up a passenger in the Barrio Longun district.  I wasn’t particularly interested in picking up this passenger, and normally we aren’t allowed to, unless we are directed to by a police officer, which supersedes any local taxi ordinances.  I didn’t actually talk with the officers, they just directed the man towards my car. (The photos below is roughly where I picked the man up)

            

           As the man approached I could see that he was big, probably 250lbs of mainly muscle, sweating profusely, with large dilated eyes moving around furtively.  He wanted to go to this porn shop on the other side of the downtown area.   The man was non-combative, but scary nonetheless.  He just kept rambling and babbling incessantly about one conspiracy, or at least what he perceived to be a conspiracy, or another. 

            

            He seemed like a bright individual, at one time at least, possibly with an advanced degree of some sort, who was well versed in history.  Almost like someone who had worked for some covert faction of the government, at some point in his life.   It was obvious the man was on some hard drugs.  My best guess would be PCP.  Perhaps to escape things he had done or seen, things average man couldn’t dream of seeing or doing…

I mean this guy was lit up like a Christmas tree.  He was just drooling blood, dripping it all over his shirt.  No wonder the cops wouldn’t pick him up, it was nice of them to pass him over to me.  When we arrived at the porn shop, F Street, he asked me how much it would be to Oceanside, and if he could get a card to call for a ride later.  Oceanside is a great ride, probably at least $100.  After some quick thinking I gave him a blank company card and told him to call back later, knowing full well that we couldn’t pick him up downtown.  Well, he didn’t know that and I thought it would be a good opportunity to diffuse the situation, after all, I didn’t know if he actually had any more money and who knows how far along in his drug induced state he would be by then.

         

P.S. - This is not the man who I picked up in my taxi that night, just someone who shares a resemblance.  

July 6, 2007 - Nighttime in Cortez

I have been driving the cab for a few weeks now.  I like it.  I’ve never had a job like this where I could just come in and leave as I please.  The vacation time is great too.  Whenever I want to take some time off of work I just let the office know 8 days in advance and I can take up to two weeks off.  There’s a certain sense of freedom that goes along with driving for a living.  The time goes really quick.  I like it best in the later evening hours because things are so tranquil in Cortez.  It’s like a ghost town here at night.  Nighttime gives me a great opportunity to shoot photos too, night photography is a hobby of mine.

July 3, 2007 - My First Cab Partner

            Things have been going well here at the taxi company.  It’s busy, and the money is good.  If you are willing to put lots of hours in the money is can be really good.  The veteran drivers have been telling me to save up while it’s busy because winter brings a lull in business.  It’s a strange setup, at least compared to what I am used to.  The way it works is that you pay a flat amount each week, which is currently $310 to use the taxi.  The lease covers the overhead such as the dispatcher and office staff’s salary, as well as repairs for the taxi, insurance, permitting, and use of the company name.  Usually the office pairs drivers up that have opposing schedules. 

            In my case I have the car available from 4 p.m. to 4 a.m. each day and the other driver works the opposite shift.  I don’t necessarily work all 12 hours, and I hardly ever do, but I pick and choose which hours within that time frame that I want to come in.  There is no schedule, formal or informal. 

           Right now I am paired up with Francio, but he goes by “Tim.”  I get along with Francio just fine, but the other drivers not so much…   Not sure why, he seems like nice enough of a guy.  Francio came here from Brazil a few years back.  Things are sometimes lost in translation but overall the communication between us flows pretty well.  No complaints.