 yet another Wednesday afternoon... -Alex Farr 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.
The strangest thing of all about the business is just how hot and cold it runs. On a good day, I can find a fare wherever I go; on a bad day, I can't find one anywhere that I go. It leads to near susperstition in a driver... and on a bad day we, or at least I, won't go anywhere out of the way to find a fare... knowing that there will be no fare there once we've arrived. But then there are the good days that just get a little too odd in their goodness. There was one day I remember, I couldn't go wrong. I was 11 hours into my 12 hour shift, and I'd found myself downtown. I decided to just take it easy for the last half hour to 45 minutes before bringing the cab back to the yard... so I just went and parked myself at the BART cabstand. I was something like seventh in the line... and then, maybe 10 minutes later, I was up. A nice Mexican couple climbed in with some bags of groceries, and asked me to take them to 16th Ave. It was a routine run... and afterward I figured I'd just swing by Fruitvale BART and maybe find myself one last fare... I was tooling down E. 14th, just crossing Fruitvale, when I heard someone yelling louder than my stereo. That usually wouldn't attract much attention on E 14th, but it sounded almost like he was yelling 'taxi'. Of course, it was dark, but I slowed down through the intersection and scanned all around... and sure enough, lit by the headlights of a bus, there was a guy running toward me & waving his hands frantically. I was courteous enough to pull all the way through the intersection before double parking and blocking up traffic to wait for him though. He hopped in, sweating and panting, and muttered "Take me to 10th & Peralta... by the club..." It took a second for what he was saying to fully sink in. He wanted to go all the way back to West Oakland... it was around a $15 fare!... So much for taking it easy. This called for hopping on the freeway at rush hour and heading back toward SF... luckily the lighter flow direction at evening rush hour. So I just shrugged, ignored the 'low-fuel' idiot light, and drove. And to make things even more eerie, the dispatcher suddenly had a fare not 2 blocks away on 8th St.! So I was smiling, feeling good as I wrestled my steering wheel to keep the cab in the lane despite the 2 tires I had that'd been steadily losing air for the last 11 hours... I was jockeying through traffic, asking dude how his day was going... "Man, you wouldn't believe it..." he tells me. Well, slurs is more like it, but he was coherent enough for an old hand at drunkeness like myself to understand what he's saying. "Man... you know, I was... I just had to... I got this medication, at Walgreen's..." I just nodded. I was feeling good. He handed the bag through the open door of my shield, in case I wanted to examine his prescription or something... I just smiled and nodded and handed it back. I was feeling good. "Yeah, see... me and my... I... see, I had to hop off the BART. 'Cause he was scared..." I just nodded. Somebody was scared. Got it... "See, you know... there was this white bitch. I mean, you know I'm color blind, black or white... you know what I'm saying. But, yeah... and, so I was saying it to her... and then, you know, he got scared..." I was still nodding, but I wasn't sure how happy I was at this point. I was still feeling alright, but I was keeping my eyes and ears open now. "So, and, I was just saying... and you know what that bi... that witch say. I'm just saying, and she say 'get out of the way or I'll spray'. You believe that?... I was just saying, and so... I was just standing there... and so I just stood there... and the bitch pepper sprayed me!..." I just nodded. I was feeling a little better again... I mean, good for her. Not that I knew anything about what had happened... but, well, it was just a funny scene to picture. "But, now... lucky she hit my glasses. I was wearing my glasses. I just get 'em today, at LensCrafters. Here. look..." And sure enough, he stuck them toward me through the shield. I luckily wasn't doing much lane jockeying at this point, so I wasn't too distracted by the glasses suddenly appearing in my blind spot. I even managed a little glance back, and sure enough they were moist and gunked up. "So yeah, she didn't really hit me. Not too much anyhow..." he went on, putting his visual aids back in his pocket, "but then he got scared, and so we had to get off the BART... you believe that?" I believed it, but he didn't seem to hear me say it... he just went on, or rather said it all over again. I could tell there was something missing from his story... especially since he hadn't been running from the BART but more like toward it when he'd found me, but I wasn't too worried about whatever details were missing from his story. In fact, I really didn't give a shit. What was starting to cross my mind was... maybe I should've gotten some cash up front from the fucker before hauling his ass across town. I mean, the kind of guy who likes to fuck with white women until they pepper spray him isn't generally morally opposed to fucking with a cabbie... But then again, I had some pepper spray of my own (the heaviest artillery allowed to a cabbie, legally, alas...), and I knew his glasses were in his pocket now... so I just tried to stay cool, and kept driving. And he, meanwhile, started going through the story again... only occasionally taking a break to try to give me some backseat driving tips. He was on to another topic by the time I pulled off the freeway though. "Yeah, I figured out though, air is what you need. Not water, like the police give you... air. Like, when they spray you, they give you water, but then they lock you in the back with no air. It don't do you any good. It's worse man. No, air. That's what you need... and they know it..." I just nodded, "yeah, they're right bastards..." I agreed, as I made the left onto Peralta. I pulled over and waited for him to fish me out some money, trying not to think of all the drivers I'd known who'd been robbed out in that neighborhood... When he opened the door and started climbing out, saying something about "Yeah, right here, upstairs there... that's the club... you know the one?..." I decided to hop out to. He was staggering a bit, and gesturing up toward what I seemed to remember was a practice space & live-work loft of a punk band I knew, still saying "It's a hopping club... but, you know, on Fridays and Saturdays...", and I suddenly noticed that his entire head was covered with sweat. Nighttime in West Oakland, facing off with a sweat drenched fare on a tirade that I didn't believe... I really should've gotten my money in advance... what'd I been thinking?... how do I get myself into these jams?... But, he soon managed to get his balance... reached into his pocket... and pulled out a mess of cash. He handed me my $15, smiled, and said "You take it easy, G..." I double checked the bills, shrugged, waved, and hopped back in the car. Like I said, it was a good day. The fare on 8th St. was even there... Some days, you just can't lose.
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