Tuesday, October 24, 2006
The are two types of taxi calls that cause the driver the most headaches; 1) The police are calling for the cab; and 2) Someone, who is not getting into the cab, says, "Here's $20, take them somewhere else."
All I could do was shake my head when I pulled up to the house at 4 a.m. and saw a cop and another fellow escorting a young lady to my cab. The guy handed me $20 and said, "Take her somewhere else."
"Where do you need to go?"
"FUCK YOU!"
"Do you want to ride with the officer?"
"TAKE ME TO AIRPORT WAY! AND SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
I looked at her in the rearview mirror for several seconds until she crossed her arms, slouched down in the seat, looked out the window at the cop, looked back at me and said (with fake politeness), "Can we stop and get some cigarettes on the way…………. Please?"
So we left. I asked her where she wanted to stop for cigarettes.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said curtly.
“Airport Way Texaco?”
“Where evar.”
After we had driven a few blocks and she had a chance to cool off I asked where exactly she wanted to go on Airport Way.
“I SAID AIRPORT WAY! THAT’S ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW, AND DIDN’T I TELL YOU TO SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
“You’re gonna be walking to Airport Way if you yell at me again.”
“Just get me to Airport Way. You don’t need to know my address. I don't need anyone telling the police where I live.”
Yes, she actually said that, and believe it or not, I have dealt with this situation many times. Usually dopers will give you an address halfway down the block, or they will say, "Take me to the corner of 3rd and Main." Many people involved with drugs don't want the cab company to have a written record of their activity, just in case those records are subpeonaed. But if they are particularly stupid, or stoned, they will want you to take them somewhere, but don't want to tell you where. I can usually work around it and get them close to their desired destination.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with Fairbanks, Airport Way is by far the longest street in town. It stretches over 5 miles from the Airport in the west, to Ft. Wainwright at the edge of town in the east. It is also a main east-west artery with businesses and houses running its entire length.
In the three minutes it took to get to Texaco she passed out in the back seat.
“Wake up. We’re at Texaco.”
“What are we doing here?”
“You said you needed cigarettes.”
“NOT HERE!”
There are only a couple places to buy cigarettes at night at that end of town. Safeway, and 2 gas stations. Texaco is the only one right on the way, and is on Airport Way.
“Where did you want to buy cigarettes?”
“AIRPORT WAY! HOW MANY TIMES DO I NEED TO TELL YOU? ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID? NOW LET’S GO TO AIRPORT WAY.”
“We are on Airport Way. Where on Airport Way do you need to go?”
“God damn you’re a stupid fucker. How many times do I need to tell you, I live on Airport Way, and I'm not telling you my address, 'cause I don't want the cops to know where I live.”
“Do you live at Fairview Manor?”
“Fuck no.”
“Do you want me to go this way or that way?”
“I waaaaaaant to get cigarettes, and for you to take me home.”
"Go in and get some cigarettes."
"Listen fucker, just take me somewhere to get cigarettes. Somewhere close to my house."
"Where is your house."
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. How many times do I need to tell you....... Look. Just get me to Airport Way and I can walk from there.”
Her cell phone rang. She answered it. She only talked for 30 seconds or so, but she managed to get in the whole story of how her evening went and how everyone but her was acting stupid… all night long. The conversation abruptly ended when she asked the other person to give her a ride home.
“Well?” I asked.
“Well what?”
“Where to from here?”
“Ya’ know what? If you don't know how to get to Airport Fucking Way, fuck it. How long have you been driving a cab anyway? I'm going to call your boss and tell him what a stupid asshole you are. I can walk to Airport Way from here. How far is it?”
“Ummmmmmmm. Only a couple blocks.”
"How much do I owe you?”
“That dude you were with paid for the trip.”
“Who? THAT FUCKER? NO FUCKIN’ WAY. I PAY FOR MY OWN CAB RIDES! HOW MUCH IS IT?”
“Don’t worry. He paid for it already.”
“Fuck him. I don’t want to owe that fucker nothin’. I got money.”
I figured it was better for her to give her money to me instead of crack dealer... so I waited for her to pay. And waited. And waited. I kept encouraging her to leave, but she just bristled.
She was rooting around her purse, swearing, wondering where her money was. It was clear that she wasn’t going to get out without paying me. So I waited. And waited some more. I tried to encourage her to get out a few more times and she just swore at me. She checked her pockets and started swearing some more.
“Do you have a quarter? I need to go in and call my friend. They’ll pay for the ride. I know they will.”
“Sure. Take two quarters.” I couldn’t give her the quarters fast enough. I knew she would remember at any second that she was holding a cell phone in her other hand. Luckily she took the quarters, got out of the cab, and became Texaco’s problem.
I drove off before she had time to close the door.
I did feel a small pang of guilt, though. Before I left the parking lot I ran in and told the Texaco attendant that if she gave him any problem at all to call the police. The police had dealt with her once already that night and would probably be quite perturbed if they had to deal with her again.
"You're not leaving her here?"
"Yeah. I am."
"She's 86ed from here."
"Well, I guess she's walking then."
"I guess she is."
She was calling the attendant a "stupid fucker" as I drove off.
All I could do was shake my head when I pulled up to the house at 4 a.m. and saw a cop and another fellow escorting a young lady to my cab. The guy handed me $20 and said, "Take her somewhere else."
"Where do you need to go?"
"FUCK YOU!"
"Do you want to ride with the officer?"
"TAKE ME TO AIRPORT WAY! AND SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
I looked at her in the rearview mirror for several seconds until she crossed her arms, slouched down in the seat, looked out the window at the cop, looked back at me and said (with fake politeness), "Can we stop and get some cigarettes on the way…………. Please?"
So we left. I asked her where she wanted to stop for cigarettes.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said curtly.
“Airport Way Texaco?”
“Where evar.”
After we had driven a few blocks and she had a chance to cool off I asked where exactly she wanted to go on Airport Way.
“I SAID AIRPORT WAY! THAT’S ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW, AND DIDN’T I TELL YOU TO SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
“You’re gonna be walking to Airport Way if you yell at me again.”
“Just get me to Airport Way. You don’t need to know my address. I don't need anyone telling the police where I live.”
Yes, she actually said that, and believe it or not, I have dealt with this situation many times. Usually dopers will give you an address halfway down the block, or they will say, "Take me to the corner of 3rd and Main." Many people involved with drugs don't want the cab company to have a written record of their activity, just in case those records are subpeonaed. But if they are particularly stupid, or stoned, they will want you to take them somewhere, but don't want to tell you where. I can usually work around it and get them close to their desired destination.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with Fairbanks, Airport Way is by far the longest street in town. It stretches over 5 miles from the Airport in the west, to Ft. Wainwright at the edge of town in the east. It is also a main east-west artery with businesses and houses running its entire length.
In the three minutes it took to get to Texaco she passed out in the back seat.
“Wake up. We’re at Texaco.”
“What are we doing here?”
“You said you needed cigarettes.”
“NOT HERE!”
There are only a couple places to buy cigarettes at night at that end of town. Safeway, and 2 gas stations. Texaco is the only one right on the way, and is on Airport Way.
“Where did you want to buy cigarettes?”
“AIRPORT WAY! HOW MANY TIMES DO I NEED TO TELL YOU? ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID? NOW LET’S GO TO AIRPORT WAY.”
“We are on Airport Way. Where on Airport Way do you need to go?”
“God damn you’re a stupid fucker. How many times do I need to tell you, I live on Airport Way, and I'm not telling you my address, 'cause I don't want the cops to know where I live.”
“Do you live at Fairview Manor?”
“Fuck no.”
“Do you want me to go this way or that way?”
“I waaaaaaant to get cigarettes, and for you to take me home.”
"Go in and get some cigarettes."
"Listen fucker, just take me somewhere to get cigarettes. Somewhere close to my house."
"Where is your house."
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. How many times do I need to tell you....... Look. Just get me to Airport Way and I can walk from there.”
Her cell phone rang. She answered it. She only talked for 30 seconds or so, but she managed to get in the whole story of how her evening went and how everyone but her was acting stupid… all night long. The conversation abruptly ended when she asked the other person to give her a ride home.
“Well?” I asked.
“Well what?”
“Where to from here?”
“Ya’ know what? If you don't know how to get to Airport Fucking Way, fuck it. How long have you been driving a cab anyway? I'm going to call your boss and tell him what a stupid asshole you are. I can walk to Airport Way from here. How far is it?”
“Ummmmmmmm. Only a couple blocks.”
"How much do I owe you?”
“That dude you were with paid for the trip.”
“Who? THAT FUCKER? NO FUCKIN’ WAY. I PAY FOR MY OWN CAB RIDES! HOW MUCH IS IT?”
“Don’t worry. He paid for it already.”
“Fuck him. I don’t want to owe that fucker nothin’. I got money.”
I figured it was better for her to give her money to me instead of crack dealer... so I waited for her to pay. And waited. And waited. I kept encouraging her to leave, but she just bristled.
She was rooting around her purse, swearing, wondering where her money was. It was clear that she wasn’t going to get out without paying me. So I waited. And waited some more. I tried to encourage her to get out a few more times and she just swore at me. She checked her pockets and started swearing some more.
“Do you have a quarter? I need to go in and call my friend. They’ll pay for the ride. I know they will.”
“Sure. Take two quarters.” I couldn’t give her the quarters fast enough. I knew she would remember at any second that she was holding a cell phone in her other hand. Luckily she took the quarters, got out of the cab, and became Texaco’s problem.
I drove off before she had time to close the door.
I did feel a small pang of guilt, though. Before I left the parking lot I ran in and told the Texaco attendant that if she gave him any problem at all to call the police. The police had dealt with her once already that night and would probably be quite perturbed if they had to deal with her again.
"You're not leaving her here?"
"Yeah. I am."
"She's 86ed from here."
"Well, I guess she's walking then."
"I guess she is."
She was calling the attendant a "stupid fucker" as I drove off.
# posted by Coldfoot @ 4:14 PM 
Comments:
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sounds like mind reader should be in your list of talents as a driver. Maybe she got a warm place to sleep with a meal...
I happen to know that they don't serve meals in the drunk tank.
And yes, Fairbanks still has a drunk tank. I think you have to blow at least a .200, or be incapacitated to be taken into protective custody. I don't think she met that criteria.
She had her sights set on a more significant stay at the big house.
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And yes, Fairbanks still has a drunk tank. I think you have to blow at least a .200, or be incapacitated to be taken into protective custody. I don't think she met that criteria.
She had her sights set on a more significant stay at the big house.
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