.comment-link {margin-left:.6em;}

Sunday, May 25, 2008

What a crappy night. I just couldn't catch a break pushing hack. I told one of my passengers that I felt like a truck driver who was behind a fleet of Winnebagos driving 40 mph in a 55 zone. As soon as I passed a few Winnebagos I hit a hill and they went back around me.

I did come out of it with this one story, but I'll warn you... so far only myself and the dispatcher find it to be funny.

Picked up this mother and child at 4:30 a.m. "We only have $12, but can you take us (for a $25 ride)? Please, sir. We have to get out of here, there is just too much drama. This woman went crazy and my daughter doesn't need to be around that."

It was such a bad night that I could hardly turn down an actual paying fare, even if they only had half the money. Besides, I am much more understanding if a passenger tells me they are short on the cab fare at the beginning of the ride than at the end of the ride. Besides that, mother was showing some good cleavage.

"Yeah, I guess. Hop in."

I didn't even have a chance to call in the trip before the dispatcher called me. "Did you pick up a woman and a girl?"

"Why yes, I did."

"Don't go anywhere. The police need to talk to them."

Great. Not only do they not have enough money to cover the fare, I'm going to get tied up with the police. The police take their sweet time.

I pulled over. "Sorry ladies. We need to wait a minute. What happened anyway?"

"Why?! Why?!"

"Didn't you just hear the dispatcher?"

"No. What did he say."

"He said the police need to talk to you. What happened when that woman went crazy, anyway?"

"What woman?"

"You said someone was going crazy in there."

"I never said that."

Call me slow, but it was at that point the light came on that this woman had not been completely truthful with me.

"We need to go."

"Sorry ma'am. We need to wait. You should probably put on your seat belt. The police are doing the whole 'Click it or Ticket' campaign this weekend." (That link is worth clicking on. I wouldn't steer you wrong.)

"Seat belt?"

"Yes. You should probably put it on before the police get here."

"Police? We need to go. Come on, honey."

They got out of the cab and started hoofing it down the street. At that point it should have been all over. End of story. But no, I had to try and look out for another cab driver.

I called the dispatcher and told him what happened. I was watching in my rear view mirror when a driver from the other company passed me heading towards the girl and her mother. I only caught a glimpse of the other driver, but he was driving the Lincoln. A guy named Joe has been driving the Lincoln lately. I don't really like Joe, but Joe isn't going anywhere. He will be a cabdriver in Fairbanks until he dies. I figured "what goes around comes around", so I spun around in the street to warn Joe that this lady did not have enough money and he would need to deal with the police if he gave them a ride.

It wasn't Joe. It was a new guy.

The woman was standing in the street trying to flag down the other taxi. The other driver apparently thought I was racing him to pick her up. He got there first. I pulled up alongside him. At first he wouldn't acknowledge me. When he finally did roll down his window to talk he had a big ol' shit-eating-grin as if he wanted to say, "The woman with the cleavage got into my cab, sucka. You are SOL."

The look was priceless. I just wanted to warn him. He thought he got one over on me.

By then there was a cop car coming from each direction, at a high rate of speed.

"The police need to talk to those two." Just then both cops turned their lights on. "You have a nice day."

I told the dispatcher what had happened. I called it poetic justice. The dispatcher said, "It's a child custody dispute. He's gonna be tied up with the police for a while."

And he was.


"Lick it or Sticket" link originally appeared in my former neighbor's blog Wilder By Far. He's moved to Texas, but his blog is still as funny as ever.

Comments: Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?