Too Much Time to Kill
 

    The summer heat wave had passed, and the weather was back to being beautiful in Oakland.  Spectacular.  Perfect for waiting patiently for a bus... which left us cabbies way too much time on our hands.

    At times like this waiting times at cabstands can easily average 45 minutes. An hour isn't uncommon.

    I was in the middle of setting a new record, an hour and a half at the downtown cabstand, and I was out stretching my legs and watching the girls and so on milling around the City Center... when I saw this one girl who looked familiar. It took a second for me to realize that she didn't actually resemble anyone I knew, she just reminded me of something that someone I once knew... had once said.

    Once upon a time, there was a hot bike messenger chick that I had had as a neighbor. She was sort of a skater punk chick, and while drinking one time she got to talking about how she really ought to wash her butt plug so she could wear it to work again the next day. She giggled, and explained how it kept her smiling all day...

    That was what I'd recognized about the girl who'd walked by, it was the walk of someone wearing a butt plug...

    Of course, I was in the middle of a marathon waiting spree... so I had lots and lots of time to watch. It soon became amazing, yes she definitely has a butt plug.  I'd mumble as another girl passed by... Ohh yeah, that couple are both "with butt plug"...

    It went on and on.  I could swear that at least a quarter of the people passing by downtown had butt plugs up their asses.

    The wait got to be so long that I started considering alternatives to explain the staggering numbers. Maybe some don't have butt plugs in, they're just still walking that way because of the butt plug yesterday... Or, maybe he's just got his nut hugging jeans so tight that it's simply a McGuyvered butt plug...

    Thankfully, a fare eventually came along.  He was a big fat old man who smelled funny and whined about how cramped my cab was because of the bullet-resistant shield. I just had time to mention to him the two drivers that'd been shot two towns over, in Richmond, before we arrived at his destination, 5 blocks away.  He took another 5 minutes to get out, and gave me $4 for the fare of $3.20, and urged me to "Have a good day."

    I tried, but couldn't even muster a laugh.

    I sped away as fast as I could, legalities be damned. His stink lingered on the vinyl seats, and I needed to create a breeze to air it out.

    "I think I need a butt plug..." was all I could think.

    Ironically, dispatch called just then, and gave me a call at a downtown rehab clinic ...

  the Old Waybills

  there's No Place Like Home...

You gotta be shitting me Alex