 He's gonna remember my face... -Alex Farr I was in the middle of a lucky roll one July morning. I found myself dropping off a fare from a BART station around Fremont High School, around 47th Ave. and Foothill, when dispatch came up with a call around the corner at about the 5100 block of Fairfax. "Why, I'd be delighted to take that call, thank you." I assured the dispatcher. It isn't often, anymore, that I come up with a call I don't have to run at least 10-15 blocks to pick up, and it had put me in a very pleasant mood. I was there in less than 2 minutes. It took another 4 minutes for dude to get his shit together and step out the door. I was in such a pleasant and polite mood though, that I didn't even mind, let alone drive off and leave him stranded. "Wow dawg, tha's the fastest I ever got a cab..." marvelled Dude, smiling a shiny metallic playuh's smile. "Shit man, if everyone had the good sense to call for a cab when there's one 2 blocks away, it'd always be this fast..." I explained. I'm not sure if he got the backhanded complement on his timing or not, then again... I guess I don't really care. "So, where we headed, my man?" I asked, if nothing else, just to justify starting the meter. "Yo, just go straight." I just nodded. He was one of those guys who liked to just give directions... either because they're looking for partners along the way, or because they're sure some unscrupulous cabbie's gonna take 'em for a ride and get an extra 48 cents out of 'em. Then again, we were in one of the most confusing neighborhoods in town, so I didn't mind. So he had me making lefts, and rights, and winding around here and there until we got to a corner and he handed me a five, saying "Ok dawg, stop here. I'll be right back." I just nodded. I had a deposit in hand, and nowhere else to go... I was good and happy to wait. As he went up to a door, I got out my waybill and a pen. I couldn't quite catch the address of the house he went up to though... so I just wrote down the address of the house across the street. Close enough as far as I was concerned. When Dude came back to the car though, he was twitchy. "Yo, dawg... you writing down the addresses? Why you doin' that?" I just shrugged again. I was a little confused by the question... since the guys that're using us to commute to crack houses, or to the corners where they are employed as dealers, tend to just have us drop them somewhere at random and then just walk the last half block to where they're going after we've left. Apparently this guy was too dumb to think of such a simple subterfuge... so I endeavored to explain to him the facts of the job. "Well, you see... I am legally required to fill this paperwork out. If I am stopped by the police, it's the first thing they ask for... and if I got all sorts of blanks on it, or if I just plain don't have anything at all written down- then I get a $185 ticket. I don't want any $185 tickets, so I write stuff down. Now, since you called dispatch, they have a record of it... so I write it down... and once I pick you up, I must have a destination... so I wrote one down." "Wha'? Why you tryin'ta play me man? Don' no other driver's write down no addresses." he countered. "Uhh..." I answered, not sure what that potentially very accurate bit of information had to do with me... "Well, that may be- but they too are required by law to write this shit down. If they don't that's their business, and I don't really care. I, on the other hand, fill it out so that I don't get any tickets. Hell, it's no big deal... I couldn't even read the address of the house you went up to- so I wrote down the address of the house across the street." "Yo, I can't believe you writin' down addresses! I'm gonna remember you, dawg. I'm gonna remember your face." he promised. This guy was as paranoid as I'd ever seen. He wasn't very good at sounding threatening though, he was just coming across as pouty. I couldn't help it, I just started giggling. "That's cool man, you do what you gotta do. I gotta write something on this thing, if you got a problem with that, well... I don't know what to tell you." "Yo man, I'm gonna remember. Dawg. I'm gonna remember your face. I don't think I wanna go anywhere else with you if you gonna write down addresses." The irony, of course, was that I wasn't gonna write down any more addresses. I'm required to write down a destination... but when I got a fare making stops at a dozen places, it can get downright tiring... and my civic mindedness mirrors the professionalism of the police. It takes long lunches, and lots of coffee breaks too. Hell, I was on the verge of offering to change the destination address for the fool... to anything he wanted. I just needed something to fill the blank, I didn't really give a shit what it was. I restrained myself though. Telling him that would've made my story weaker in his eyes. It would've made me into some sort of liar or hustler. And besides that, he just wasn't worth the effort. So I just giggled a little bit, and demanded the $2 he'd racked up in waiting and pouting time. He paid up, and reminded me one last time that he'd remember my face. "I'll probably forget your face within the hour..." I admitted in return, and drove away... still giggling.
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