Wednesday
It's a funny thing, driving a cab. You do it, but you don't think about it. You're better off if you don't think about it too much. But people keep asking... "I bet you've got a lot of stories...". Well, not at first I didn't. I drive in Oakland, CA. The dayshift is largely old ladies... going to the beauty shops, and the doctor's offices... but there're plenty of lunatics that slip through... Yeah, I guess I've collected some stories over the years. But, is it anything that the public wants to hear? It's not usually Hollywood style happy endings... It's usually gritty bits of weirdness... and if people really enjoyed that sort of stuff, then we'd all be down in the trenches, rolling along the avenues in cabs, risking our lives in search of amusing anecdotes... despite the fact that any city police force's Intro. Course for a new cab driver points out that it is the most dangerous job in the country. Period. More dangerous than being a cop, or a fireman, or even a fucking 7-11 night manager. It is the most dangerous job in the country. That's not to say it doesn't have its
share of amusements.
So one day I get a call from dispatch to pick up at Summit Hospital ER. There wasn't anything unusual about that... so I cruised on over. As I pulled up, a guy in his thirties jumps off the waiting bench and starts madly flagging for me to stop. That's cool with me, the last thing I wanted was to have to go in and yell "Anyone need a taxi!" and see if it woke anyone up. So I pull over to the loading zone, and dude goes back to get his Mother, who's sitting patiently in her wheelchair. I pop the trunk, and wait patiently for them... but, as they get closer, I notice that the wheelchair has one of those IV posts on it... which means there's no way it's gonna fit in the trunk. "Uhh, is the wheelchair coming?" I ask, remembering that the chairs with the IV posts usually belong to, and stay at, the hospital. "Uhh, yeah." answers Dude, as he's trying to help Mama up and into the front seat. (If you ever want a cabbie to let you sit in the front seat, come out of the house in a wheel chair. Only the most heartless of cabbies will make you sit in the back... although, there're an awful lot of cabbies that'll just drive by rather than stop and deal with the hassle of a wheel chair... so it might not be worth the trouble after all...) "The chair is coming with us?" I repeated. "Yeah." answered Dude again. "You're sure it isn't the hospital's chair?" I tried one more time. "No, it's ours." I just shrugged. "Well, you might as well help her back into the chair then, 'cause it ain't gonna fit in my car." He stopped helping Mama for a moment and stared at me. "It ain't gonna fit?" "No chance in hell..." I formally affirmed. "Uhh, forget it then." "Forget it?" I asked, confused and relieved all at the same time. I wanted to be sure though, so I asked again. "Forget it?" "Yeah, forget it. We'll just leave it." Now, he didn't strike me as the kind of guy who was about to leave anything he'd invested any money in behind... he was more like the kind of guy who keeps a car that's been broken down for 10 years on his front lawn on the off chance that he can sell a part or two to a neighbor some day... But, now I didn't have to deal with a wheelchair... so what'd I care? Now, while Dude was loading Mama in, another woman came around who turned out to be the Sister. Dude and Sister jumped in the back seat, and everyone seemed all ready to go... so I punched the meter and asked "Where to?" "Well," Mama said, turning to me, "I gotta go home and check my mail..." "Uhh huh." I answered. "And... where is home?" "Ohh, I live downtown... but before we do that, I gotta get me some cigarettes, and a little beer." I just stared for a moment. She was still wearing her hospital gown... and her hospital slippers. I just nodded. Who was I to judge? I'd've wanted the same thing too, and in the same order. I started up the car, asking "Anywhere in particular you wanna go for the beer and cigarettes?" "Ohh, I don't know..." she answered, fumbling with the seatbelt, trying to get it around her without it hooking the gown and exposing herself any more than she already was. Like a gentleman, I reached over to give her a hand, not wanting her to expose herself either... and as I glanced down to latch her in, I noticed she still had her IV nipple-receptacle thingie taped into her hand! "How about that liquor store over at 34th and San Pablo?" I just nodded. Who was I to judge?... So I drove us over there, and she started yelling back to her daughter what she was gonna want. (At the time, I was driving a cab with a solid shield, one without one of those little cab-shield windows to open so the family could talk casually... so all communication with the back seat was by yelling...) She was yelling about a pair of king cans, and a couple of packs of Benson & Hedges menthol lights, and something about some beef jerky, and some chips, and some lottery tickets, and maybe something for herself, and for her Brother... And, did I want anything? "Uhh, no. I'm good." "Not even a soda?" I just shook my head. "Now, you be sure to be careful." she yelled back at her daughter. "Son, maybe you should go in with her. You remember what happened the last time you went in here..." I was driving by then, and I generally try to make it a policy not to ask too many questions about overheard family discussions. She really seemed to want me to know though, 'cause next thing I knew she was explaining to me, "You see, she got robbed the last time she went in there..." I just nodded. I wasn't too surprised, the store was only a couple of blocks from my house, and I knew the neighborhood. "Lord, it's a shame the way some of these people in this world carry on..." "Somebody pull a knife on her or something?" I asked. That was how it'd happened to one of my housemates. I was suddenly curious if the knife guy was back on the job. I was actually hoping so... my other guess was that the neighbor from down the street who'd taken a 2x4 to the mailman was back on the streets, and I'd heard he was a psycho who hated anybody white being in his neighborhood. I wasn't looking forward to the pleasure of meeting him. "A knife?," answered the little old lady, her IV nipple thing swinging around as she pulled her gown back into place. "No, somebody maced her. As she walked out the store... somebody shot her in her face with mace, and took her money. And her beer, and cigarettes. And I think she had her some chips too. All gone. That's why we were in the hospital." I just nodded. And then nodded again. I wasn't sure whether I was more confused about why she was the one wearing the gown, and the IV, if it was 'cause of her daughter that they were in the hospital... or if I was just apalled that they'd let this old woman leave the hospital without at least putting on a bra. It was too much for me. I just nodded again, and drove. There was actually parking in front of the liquor store. I killed the engine and waited patiently as Mama and Sonny Boy yelled back and forth through the shield, trying to get the order straight. I guess they felt they had more privacy that way than for him to get out of the car and lean in the window to talk to the old lady. I'd long since given up trying to give my fares good advice. They never take it, and half the time they start to figure I'm working some sort of scam on them and start to get really dodgy and suspicious... Or, maybe they were just afraid of being maced while working out what they wanted. It would've been a perfect opportunity. Sonny Boy was so fucking dense that they'd've been sitting ducks for so long that someone could've found a yellow pages, looked up a store to buy himself a new batch of mace, run and gotten it, and still come back for them... "You sure you don't want nothing? You being so nice... you sure you don't want nothing? Maybe some pork rinds or something?" Mama asked me again as we sat and waited. "I don't know..." I mumbled. I could really go for a beer by then, but knowing everyone else was gonna be drinking just made it seem like a bad idea. And besides, these fools were just sketchy enough that I didn't want to go and relax with them. Despite the wad of cash the old lady had produced from her sock to give to Sonny Boy for the shopping. "Come on, whadda ya want? Chips? What kind of chips you like?" "Uhh, flaming hot Cheetoes are always good... But, I'm fine..." She wasn't having any of that though. As soon as Sonny Boy was back, she sent him right back in to get me some Cheetoes. And, as long as he was going back in anyway, she told him to pick up five more lotto tickets. I just shrugged, and watched the meter run. Mama smiled, and cracked one of her beers, and lit a cigarette. "Jesus, Lord... what kind of beer is this??" she suddenly squealed. I just shrugged. It was a Meister Brau. What'd she expect?, a rich hoppy flavor? Once the pained expression slid off her face, she took another pull on the beer. "Ohh God Almighty... ughhh..." "Why don't you take another drag on the cigarette?, it might make the beer taste... less bad." I suggested helpfully. I'd drank enough Meister Brau in my time to know that it couldn't hurt... "You think so, huh?" she said, considering it. I'd mostly just said it to be a smartass, but there was always the chance that it could work. Not that I really gave a shit one way or the other. More than anything, I'd just said it to keep my mouth busy so it wouldn't offer to take the beer off her hands and drink it for her. Sometimes it does that sort of shit to me, if I don't watch it carefully. She tried it though. Judging by her pained expression as she forced the swallow down though, it hadn't worked. "Christ Almighty, this just ain't the right beer." she said again, holding it up to stare at the can, and taking a drag as she considered where it'd gone wrong. I joined her, staring at the can, fighting the urge to offer to take it off her hands... while trying not to stare at the little IV nipple thing taped into the hand. Sonny Boy was back in another moment with my Cheetoes. And her lotto tickets. She set the can down on the dash, and scratched the tickets immediately. "Nothing... Jesus Lord, it ain't my day..." she said, bemoaning her fate. Stoically, she opened the car door, threw the tickets into the gutter, set the barely drank beer down, & closed the door. "Ok, let's go." "Uhh, where to?..." "My house." I couldn't decide if it was the sip of beer, maybe mixing with whatever drugs she'd had pumped through that IV nipple thing... or if she was just stupid... "Uhh, and where would that be again?" I asked. "Downtown." She was quickly losing any doubts that I might give her the benefit of... "Where downtown?" "Just go straight..." Yep, she was gonna be one of those... one of the fares who likes to just call out "left", "left", "right"... as we came upon the corners. I wouldn't've minded so much, but I could tell already that she was gonna be one of the ones who didn't remember to give me the directions until I was ten yards short of the intersection, doing 25 (at least)... and then she'd wonder why I missed the turn. I just shrugged. I didn't mind the prospect of missing a turn or two for her... downtown where the cock-eyed one-way streets can make doubling back mighty complicated... The meter would be running the whole way. We made it about four more blocks down San Pablo before she had me pull over in front of another liquor store.
(Be sure to check back next week for the second liquor store, the house... and then things really get weird and squalid.) |