Fairies

Or is it faeries? I guess it depends on which spelling you like. Some people doubt their existence, not me.

In his opening monologue, Travis said he'd take anybody anywhere, including whores, faeries (pronounced fahhh-reeeeeeees), and minorities. The faeries Travis had in mind were probably silly little nellies. The person who wrote the dialog was probably overly influenced by the insulting value of calling someone a faerie, when it's a reference to sexual preference. I suppose some faeries are gay, but being a faerie comes first, sexual preference is another matter.

I had a true faerie in my cab yesterday. I know one when I see one. They're pretty rare, and like seeing a gold finch in the spring time, I notice.

Years ago, there was this little Mexican guy named John who was a regular. His ride was always The Shamrock to The New Bar, both gay bars. John would probably strike most people as a classic faerie, but in my mind he was just an obnoxious little fag, not a faerie. He was small, 5'4" perhaps, 25-35 years old, spoke unaccented English, and was fairly dark brown with black hair. He always wore this Saturday Night Fever type costume, for him it was a white cowboy costume. He always had to sit in the front seat. Sitting in the front seat isn't usually a big deal, but he ALWAYS put his hand on my thigh, and I don't like being touched by passengers in general, so that was really unwelcome. At first, I'd twist his arm as far as I figured I could, short of breaking it. He never said anything, I guess he had high pain tolerance, but if I'd broken his arm I'd have been in a lot of trouble, so there was a limit to how far I could twist it. Kate over at Union Cab had her arm in a cast for a year over a radial fracture she got from a passenger, and he got a few years in jail for doing it. Finally, I started refusing to let this bozo in the front seat, and he'd refuse to get in the cab at all. Then he'd call and ask for another cab, and we'd send him one. Kind of makes you want to scream in frustration. This went on until his cousin Bobby was in the cab one night, and I told Bobby about it. Bobby was gay too, and he said he was terribly embarrassed. After that, John behaved. John and Bobby, I wonder what ever became of them. One or both of them probably ended up with some mama sita(s), and have kids. I'm pretty realistic, and pretty cynical, it's the way of the world.

I've only ever seen one faerie who wasn't considered developmentally challenged or mentally ill. He was (is?) an engineering graduate student from India. When he danced through the basement of General Engineering in the wee hours of the morning, he had the same graceful fluttery quality of a luna moth. I'm sure he'd simply say he was a happy guy, and things were going his way, at the moment. Nah.............. He has magic. Someday I'll pick up some cute little electronic marvel (like todays cell phones), it will be his magic that made it possible, and he'll still be dancing down the hall of his high tech frim in the wee hours of the morning.

The faerie I had yesterday is what they call a special needs passenger. He is attended 24 hours a day by somebody, and I'm sure they have some kind of label for him like autism. I wish I could get a video of him that I could submit to casting agents, and writers. Of course the people he has attending him, we call them beast keepers, won't ever recognise that magic. I don't know if I could stand having him around for more than an hour or so, he's a pretty high energy guy, but I want him in my cab a few more times. I want to watch that magic coming out of him enough times to be able to put it down on paper.

You can choose your friends, but not your family

For the most part, the cab people are my family. My dog is my spousal equivilent. Like most families there are members who move away, or stop coming around. Those you like better, those you don't like at all, those who die............ We even have some people who are kind of like that guy on the other side of Tim's fence, the guy you never see, who gives him advice, they're usually passengers, and like him, some of them are very dear to us.

Boyle is leaving, said he can't work after the 28th. He, Mark A., and the famous Don will now, all be just ghosts in my memory. Not that any of them mattered much to me, they didn't.

I see J.C. every so often, if you didn't know he'll never work again, you might think he's just another guy in the grocery store. He even recovered enough to play golf again. Car accident. Boom, and Jim Bob on the other hand, they both came to work and died one night (different nights). I wonder if I should envy them, I've always said I don't want to feel it, and I don't want to see it coming, so they died the way I've always said I want to die.

When Rob came back, I made a point of telling him I was really glad he was back. He took it totally wrong. I had to assure him that he was simply one of us, and I miss any of us who leave, which isn't entirely true, there are some of us I wouldn't miss. I was glad to see Rob back in the drivers room. As long as Rob is around, no one can seriously accuse me of being the most abrasive, obnoxious driver, so I've got to like having the guy around. If you wonder which driver he is, he's the guy with the medic's paratrooper wings.

Enough of being maudlin............ Onward through the fog.

I ran into a couple of the Bradley Hall girls Saturday night, going to the party house, of course. They remembered me, and reminded me that I'd tutored them on the crude side of insulting people. They wanted more!!!! The one girl even proudly told me she'd slapped a frat boy recently, and she wanted an atta boy for it. I immediately pointed out that doing that kind of thing is a, did you get away with it, kind of thing. Get away with it, she asked? Yeah, if the guy didn't slug you back, you got away with it. Always remember, on occasion, they do swing back.

The best I could do, when it came to a new clever comment, was the classic reply to a man (or boy) who says, 'I tried.' That reply of course is, "Yeah, you tried like an old steer."

She didn't get it, at all. She didn't even know what a steer is. Well, a steer is a bull that's been neutered. Like a dog gets neutered. You know, no nads, now you get it? A steer, especially an old one, could try, but.......... AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! Now she got it, she'd be telling the guy he couldn't even shoot blanks. Now she and her friend laughed loudly. The worst part of some cute girl telling some guy he tried like an old steer would be when he didn't get it, and she was explaining the insult to him. Can't you just picture the kid turning about 3 shades of crimson?

Passengers ask me how they become a memory. They all want to think they can stick in my memory for doing something as common as wetting their pants or barfing. Nahhhhhhhhh. The girl who wants to become a bad girl, who lives in Bradley Hall, has made the grade, her I will remember.

Back to family members who are gone. I will finish with a memory of 2 more passengers. Eric and Heather lived out at Manchester and McKee. They both had work rides, and both of those work rides started real good morning runs, so I used to sit on both of those rides. 5 days a week, I'd go out there with a cup of coffee and a Wall Street Journal, and wait 30 minutes for Heather's ride to kick off my day shift. I got to know them quite well, well enough that when they got married, I got invited to the wedding.

Eric and Heather's Madison wedding reception was a society affair held in the best ballroom in the Concourse. I believe the Concourse comp'ed the reception, it probably cost upwards of 10 grand to throw. Everybody who was anybody in Madison showed up. At least 500 people attended, perhaps not all at the same time. The actual wedding was held on a cruise ship in the Miami, Florida harbor, there were only 32 people including the bride and groom present for it. One of the local TV stations actually sent a crew to film that wedding. They spent more time filming my roomate and I than they did filming the bride and groom, but there's no accounting for taste. Eric told me that he was really really greatful to my roomate and I for coming. He said that for once nobody was staring at him, they were all staring at Willow and I, and he was tired of people staring at him. What Eric must know by now, is that after a while, you stop noticing when people stare at you.

I miss Eric and Heather. Someone told me that they moved to Texas because the cold weather was so hard on them, and that inspite of medical advice that she should never get pregant, Heather and Eric had a baby. Part of the family who moved away.................