Official company policy is that every accident be reported and fully documented. Reality is different. For one reason or another, many accidents do not get reported and are only informally documented. 2 immediately come to mind.
The first one was a guy who was absolutely intent on racing past me on the right and passing me. You know the type, every traffic light is the Christmas tree at a drag strip for them. I don't approve of this kind of thing, the street may be their playground, but it's where I work, and it's dangerous enough without that kind of thing. The guy was in a right turn lane, that vanished into a row of parked cars along the curb on the other side of the intersection. I had 2 or 3 people in the back seat. When the light changed, he floored it. I went through the intersection, and almost immediately it was obvious that if I didn't slam on the brakes and/or change lanes to let him swerve in front of me, he was going to rear end the first parked car, and/or hit me in the process. While I was giving this a moments thought, he swung his car into the cab, just like they do in stock car races. I couldn't believe it! He hit me on purpose. Now I was definitely going to let him by, because I was going to get the cops and needed to keep him in sight. He pulled over almost immediately, jumped out of the car, and started screaming that I'd sideswiped him and I was at fault.
Ah, we need to get the cops for this. He's screaming that this car belongs to a dealership, and it is indeed wearing a dealers tag, and he's a car salesman. Right, and the only good thing about a car salesman is he's not on welfare. I take a look at both cars, and I can't find any damage. How did that happen? I consult with the passengers in the back seat and we vote for telling this idiot that since there is no damage we are willing to let the issue drop, if he is. He agrees, but I do get his name, and the license number, and the names and phone numbers of the passengers, just in case. Yes, people really do such silly ass shit. Of course, the names and numbers are always given to Roy Boy, and he's always agreed with my judgement that it was better to not call the cops that time, what ever time it was.
The second time was a bit more serious. It was a foot ball Saturday night, and I had a load of drunk football fans in the cab. The intersection of Randall and University has always had a light, and everybody turns there, but a slick cab driver will go straight through that intersection and turn on Lorch which is only 80 feet up the street, without waiting behind 6 or 8 civilians who are turning on to Randall. One then turns left on Campus, and right on Randall, no waiting. There is an eastbound bike lane along the left side of University. University a westbound one way street. On the left side of University is an oncoming, or eastbound, bike lane that's seperated from street by a largish curb that's about 10 inches wide. Just as I was turning across the bike lane at Lorch, into the head lights came a student on a bike who was doing at least 20 mph. There was no way he'd stop, I was already in front of him, he was boxed by the curbs on both sides of him in the bike lane, and my only prayer was to floor it and try to clear the bike lane before he got there. I didn't make it. He hit the rear quarter panel on the passenger side right behind the rear axle and flew over the trunk lid, landing on the pavement on the drivers side of the cab. I stopped immediately of course.
The kid with the bike, who was of course unhurt, was hopping mad. I pulled in front of him he said, it was my fault he said, what was I going to do about his bike!!!!!!! His bike looked pretty bad, he was for sure losing the front tire, and front fork. It also looked like a very expensive bike, I never found out if it was or not.
It was true that I pulled in front of him. In the dark, it was impossible to see him in that bike lane. He had no head lamp of any kind. I pointed up at the bike lane yield sign and said, "That yield sign is there for your safety, you ignored it. You have no light on your bike. Would you like me to call the police?" I held the mike for the radio up for him to see, and continued, "If the police come and determine that you're at fault you will be required to pay for the damage to the cab. Do you have insurance like that?"
We bickered for a few minutes, mostly him grumbling. He knew he would be found at fault if the cops came and got involved. I took his name, he did not take mine. Then he stalked off into the night, carrying his twisted bike over his head. I got the names and phone numbers of all 4 drunks in the cab, a bunch of good old boys from northern Wisconsin, down in Madison to whoop it up for the weekend.
Again, Roy Boy agreed with my judgement that any kind of accident with a bike, was something that should be avoided if possible. He took the list of names and numbers, the body shop repaired the quarter panel, the kid probably got his bike replaced at Christmas, and life went on. I don't know about happily ever after, but life went on.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Why do I have to get involved in something like this?
I'm not a social worker. I don't work in a hospital. I'm not a cop. Getting involved in some woman losing her child shouldn't be part of my job. Unfortunately, it has been part of my job, more than once.
I pulled up in front of a really sleazy dive at Union Corners, to pick up somebody going to Hilldale. The woman going to Hilldale was really drunk, and she had a little girl with her. The kid was 5 perhaps. There was also another woman with her who wanted to go first to a liquer store near by, and then to her apartment which was also close by. In my mind, the second woman was the worst kind of predator, but many people would dismiss what she did as minor.
Someone, probably the bar tender, had given the really drunk woman enough money to pay for a cab home. The second woman, took the money from the really drunk woman and bought beer and a ride to her own place with it, leaving the really drunk woman with the little kid about 2 bucks, when she got out of the cab. I don't recall how it came up, but after the predator got out, the subject of money came up, and I found out that the really drunk woman in the cab no longer had the cash to pay for the ride. She was a happy drunk. One of those people with an innocent drunken smile, and a mostly nice disposition, inspite of being too drunk to walk more than 50 feet at a time.
I don't like getting beat out of a ride for any reason, and I'm not a charity. I told her I wasn't going to kick her out of the cab, but I fully intended to give her a piece of my mind. She told me to shut up, she didn't have to listen to my crap. "Yes lady, you do have to listen to my crap, you don't have the money to pay for the ride, so you will listen to my crap."
Drunks don't usually change their mind when it comes to criticism. Even a sweet drunk will turn ugly if they don't want to hear something, and you insist on telling that something anyway. She started getting nasty. I told her that if she wanted to get nasty, I'd kick her out of the cab. She told me that she'd get as nasty as it took to shut me up. What was I telling her? I was telling her she was an unfit mother. I finally put her and the child out of the cab at the corner of First and Johnson. She sat down on the curb, and the little girl tried to take care of her. I had no choice, I had to call the cops. She went to Detox, I'm not sure what the cops did with the little girl.
Why didn't I just shut up? I'm supposed to silently smile as I give a free ride to a woman who is too drunk to take care of herself, and was too drunk to keep the fat pig who was on the bar stool next to her from stealing her money? Why didn't she shut up? She was too drunk to know any better? Still, why do I have to get involved in this kind of thing? Simple, I'm a cab driver.
I pulled up in front of a really sleazy dive at Union Corners, to pick up somebody going to Hilldale. The woman going to Hilldale was really drunk, and she had a little girl with her. The kid was 5 perhaps. There was also another woman with her who wanted to go first to a liquer store near by, and then to her apartment which was also close by. In my mind, the second woman was the worst kind of predator, but many people would dismiss what she did as minor.
Someone, probably the bar tender, had given the really drunk woman enough money to pay for a cab home. The second woman, took the money from the really drunk woman and bought beer and a ride to her own place with it, leaving the really drunk woman with the little kid about 2 bucks, when she got out of the cab. I don't recall how it came up, but after the predator got out, the subject of money came up, and I found out that the really drunk woman in the cab no longer had the cash to pay for the ride. She was a happy drunk. One of those people with an innocent drunken smile, and a mostly nice disposition, inspite of being too drunk to walk more than 50 feet at a time.
I don't like getting beat out of a ride for any reason, and I'm not a charity. I told her I wasn't going to kick her out of the cab, but I fully intended to give her a piece of my mind. She told me to shut up, she didn't have to listen to my crap. "Yes lady, you do have to listen to my crap, you don't have the money to pay for the ride, so you will listen to my crap."
Drunks don't usually change their mind when it comes to criticism. Even a sweet drunk will turn ugly if they don't want to hear something, and you insist on telling that something anyway. She started getting nasty. I told her that if she wanted to get nasty, I'd kick her out of the cab. She told me that she'd get as nasty as it took to shut me up. What was I telling her? I was telling her she was an unfit mother. I finally put her and the child out of the cab at the corner of First and Johnson. She sat down on the curb, and the little girl tried to take care of her. I had no choice, I had to call the cops. She went to Detox, I'm not sure what the cops did with the little girl.
Why didn't I just shut up? I'm supposed to silently smile as I give a free ride to a woman who is too drunk to take care of herself, and was too drunk to keep the fat pig who was on the bar stool next to her from stealing her money? Why didn't she shut up? She was too drunk to know any better? Still, why do I have to get involved in this kind of thing? Simple, I'm a cab driver.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Little Hip
Her name is Lisa. She was called Little Hip, because she lived with Hippy. Last I heard, Little Hip was teaching Math at NW Louisiana. When she got her PhD, it was time to leave town and pursue a real career. Being a cab drivers squeeze wasn't her vision of the future. She was only referred to as Little Hip by other cab drivers, and only out of her earshot, in person she was Lisa. She was a pretty nice person, in spite of her questionable taste in boyfriends. Hippy has always described her as a typical native of up north, a hard drinking blond with a Norwegian heritage.
When I met her I was a student, and life was good, too good in fact. It would be a number of years before I would discover that anyone who lives from paycheck to paycheck can't afford that life style, I certainly paid dearly for learning that lesson. She was a math grad student. It would be a few years before she'd get her PhD. It would be a couple of years before I would graduate and a couple more years after that before I'd become a cab driver.
I was having a few drinks in one of the Shenk's Corner's bars, I don't recall which one, probably Mel & Tony's. She was about my age, and I probably bought her a drink. How had I spent my day? Wading in Black Earth Creek, catching brown trout. She wanted to hear all about trout fishing. She said she and her boyfriend were out drinking after playing volleyball. Boyfriend? I didn't see any boyfriend.
Trout fishing? Pick up a girl in a bar talking about trout fishing? Since when were women interested in going fishing? That just doesn't happen, right?
I offered to take her fishing if she'd like to go. She really wanted to go. Ok, I suppose. I thought about it for a minute, and described a couple of places I could take her. When I take someone fishing, there is always the guarantee of catching fish. I suggested a beautiful spot north of Richland Center, and a not so beautiful spot north of Black Earth. About this time a pompous little man with shoulder length hair sat down and announced, "I'm Hip."
She introduced this character as Gary, and said that they'd been playing volleyball together. It turns out that Gary, AKA Hippie, was a ball player, and she'd been playing volleyball with a bunch of cab drivers. This was before I'd had any contact with the world of cab driving, so I just shrugged and said I liked to play volleyball too. For the record, I was never accepted as a ball player, and never invited to play on any of the their teams. This guy Gary said he was a night dispatcher at Badger Cab, like that was really important. Well, that's nice Gary, I don't think it'll ever matter to me. He told me that he was a big cheese, and I should care about him being a big cheese.
When I took her trout fishing, I chose a little trout stream that runs north and south, north of Black Earth. There are a few patches of DNR land, and we fished one of them, a really small one. It wasn't elegant fishing. I put a night crawler on a size 10 hook, and lobbed it in front of a tangle of brush, right where the current would sweep it into the hole under the tangle. I then handed her the rod and told her to carefully watch the line, it will move smoothly. If it twitches suddenly, or does anything else that indicates it has stopped being carried by the current, that probably means a fish has picked it up. When that happens, pick up the slack in the line, and give a slight little jerk when you've taken up all the slack. If you have a fish on, you'll know it right away. Her brown trout was about 12" long, she was ecstatic!! Could she keep it? Of course, it's yours, you did buy a license, didn't you?
I woke up on the floor of Lisa and Hippy's apartment with a roaring hang over. When we got there after fishing, I dressed her trout out, and we had a couple of beers. A couple? It was just fishing, I'm certainly not the first fisherman who woke up on the floor of the other fisherman's place.
I never dreamed that about 3 years later, I'd find out about driving a cab. Of course, Hippy never forgot. So, one of my first exposures to a dispatcher was this little jerk with the shoulder length hair, who'd told me how important he was. What a way to kick off what would become my most stable line of work, in working career that has so far spanned 44 years of paying social security, and over 20 years of driving a cab.
Hippy no longer drives or dispatches. He's in the US these days, he has a nice wife he met in the Congo, last time he was in Africa. She's very attractive, speaks good English, French of course, and they have a nice little boy who's around 3. Now the light black kid with the blond curly hair is Little Hip. But I kind of doubt he'll ever be called Little Hip around his dad.
When I met her I was a student, and life was good, too good in fact. It would be a number of years before I would discover that anyone who lives from paycheck to paycheck can't afford that life style, I certainly paid dearly for learning that lesson. She was a math grad student. It would be a few years before she'd get her PhD. It would be a couple of years before I would graduate and a couple more years after that before I'd become a cab driver.
I was having a few drinks in one of the Shenk's Corner's bars, I don't recall which one, probably Mel & Tony's. She was about my age, and I probably bought her a drink. How had I spent my day? Wading in Black Earth Creek, catching brown trout. She wanted to hear all about trout fishing. She said she and her boyfriend were out drinking after playing volleyball. Boyfriend? I didn't see any boyfriend.
Trout fishing? Pick up a girl in a bar talking about trout fishing? Since when were women interested in going fishing? That just doesn't happen, right?
I offered to take her fishing if she'd like to go. She really wanted to go. Ok, I suppose. I thought about it for a minute, and described a couple of places I could take her. When I take someone fishing, there is always the guarantee of catching fish. I suggested a beautiful spot north of Richland Center, and a not so beautiful spot north of Black Earth. About this time a pompous little man with shoulder length hair sat down and announced, "I'm Hip."
She introduced this character as Gary, and said that they'd been playing volleyball together. It turns out that Gary, AKA Hippie, was a ball player, and she'd been playing volleyball with a bunch of cab drivers. This was before I'd had any contact with the world of cab driving, so I just shrugged and said I liked to play volleyball too. For the record, I was never accepted as a ball player, and never invited to play on any of the their teams. This guy Gary said he was a night dispatcher at Badger Cab, like that was really important. Well, that's nice Gary, I don't think it'll ever matter to me. He told me that he was a big cheese, and I should care about him being a big cheese.
When I took her trout fishing, I chose a little trout stream that runs north and south, north of Black Earth. There are a few patches of DNR land, and we fished one of them, a really small one. It wasn't elegant fishing. I put a night crawler on a size 10 hook, and lobbed it in front of a tangle of brush, right where the current would sweep it into the hole under the tangle. I then handed her the rod and told her to carefully watch the line, it will move smoothly. If it twitches suddenly, or does anything else that indicates it has stopped being carried by the current, that probably means a fish has picked it up. When that happens, pick up the slack in the line, and give a slight little jerk when you've taken up all the slack. If you have a fish on, you'll know it right away. Her brown trout was about 12" long, she was ecstatic!! Could she keep it? Of course, it's yours, you did buy a license, didn't you?
I woke up on the floor of Lisa and Hippy's apartment with a roaring hang over. When we got there after fishing, I dressed her trout out, and we had a couple of beers. A couple? It was just fishing, I'm certainly not the first fisherman who woke up on the floor of the other fisherman's place.
I never dreamed that about 3 years later, I'd find out about driving a cab. Of course, Hippy never forgot. So, one of my first exposures to a dispatcher was this little jerk with the shoulder length hair, who'd told me how important he was. What a way to kick off what would become my most stable line of work, in working career that has so far spanned 44 years of paying social security, and over 20 years of driving a cab.
Hippy no longer drives or dispatches. He's in the US these days, he has a nice wife he met in the Congo, last time he was in Africa. She's very attractive, speaks good English, French of course, and they have a nice little boy who's around 3. Now the light black kid with the blond curly hair is Little Hip. But I kind of doubt he'll ever be called Little Hip around his dad.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
The holidays alone at home
Unfortunately, this year, I spent the holidays home alone. My doctor didn't think I was ready to go back to work. I got hurt on December first, and haven't worked since. It's ok though, the insurance company is taking good care of me.
I've missed holidays with the family before, this isn't the first time. It's true I could have gone over to the office and hung around, but the new office is a kind of antiseptic place that doesn't lend itself to that sort of thing, at least in my mind. Imagine it if you will, a building, and specifically a dispatch office, designed by an architect, to be the best it could be. Sigh..........
I've missed holidays with the family before, this isn't the first time. It's true I could have gone over to the office and hung around, but the new office is a kind of antiseptic place that doesn't lend itself to that sort of thing, at least in my mind. Imagine it if you will, a building, and specifically a dispatch office, designed by an architect, to be the best it could be. Sigh..........
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
The sad fat cat
It was a football Saturday, around 10:00 pm. It was absolutely jumpin! The first time I saw the guy, I was turning into the 600 block of State, off of Lake.
He was fat. He wasn't wearing pants, he wore some kind of exercise suit bottom, and he was wearing something like a hooded sweatshirt for a top. He had a couple of takeout bags in one hand, perhaps tacos in one and pizza in the other. He just didn't look real promising. People who carry around bags with tacos don't usually tip well, and given it was a football night, he'd probably expect me to single him out to timbuc two, so I drove past, as did the cab before me and the cab after me. There were literally hundreds of people who wanted a cab ride in the next 4 blocks, so there were lots of passengers to pick from.
In the course of an hour he migrated 2 blocks to the corner of State and Gilman. I'd pulled over to get a group of 4 who were waving, and he rushed up to me, and frantically begged me to take him anywhere, he said he'd give me a hundred bucks to take him anywhere, just get him away from State st. I don't think I've ever been asked for a ride by a person who looked more terrified. I told him I'd take him were ever it was that he wanted to go. I knew why he wanted to go anywhere, he'd told a driver or 2 where he really wanted to go and they told him they wouldn't go there. When he was safely seated in the back seat, I asked him again, where to? He gave me a street name that rung a bell, but I couldn't place it, so I asked him where that street was. Off Lacy rd. he said. Near Fish Hatch? Yes. No question in my mind, he'd been told they wouldn't take him there, it's quite a way from downtown, perhaps 6 miles. So, we were off.
The first thing he talked about was what a terrifying place State st. was. He said that in an hour of attempting to flag a cab, he'd seen 5 fist fights. I've seen a lot of fights on State st. myself. Have you ever seen a guy get hit over the head with a beer bottle? I was sitting in front of The Pub one night and I watched a guy come out of Chesty's, and start to walk down the street, when a guy rushed out of the bar and hit him over the head with a beer bottle, just like in the movies. The guy was immediately covered with blood, but it didn't faze him, he spun around and blasted the guy with a single right. The guy who swung the beer bottle went stiff and went down about the same as if someone had a plank standing on end and just let it fall over. The guy who was covered with blood, turned around and continued to walk down the street like nothing special had happened. You can definitely see fist fights on State st.
Once he'd gotten the fear out of his system, he started talking about losing his daughter. His daughter had been a undergrad, until she'd been killed in a traffic accident earlier in the fall. He had more children, but only one daughter. It was easy to tell, it was dominating his life, and would for quite a while to come. He said that if he were to live life over again, he'd have more children. It sounded like that would be the focus of his life if he had it to do over again, and as we all know, children and family are not the focus of many men's lives. I had to change the subject, it was just a little too sad for me.
He said he ran a couple of hedge funds, he was from Chicago. Now, I knew why his destination rang an odd kind of bell. I'd taken people there before, but never the same people, and they were always from out of town. Now I knew what that modest 3 bed room ranch in Fitchburg really was, it was the cottage up north. When I think of a cottage up north, I think of a flimsy house on a lake, decked out in hunting and fishing decor, but I'm not a big time fat cat. This was a cottage up north for excursions to party city, Madison, Wisconsin, for some rich people from Chicago. I guess......... What the allure of this terrifying place called State st. would be for big city people is I just couldn't tell you, a lot of bars and drunk kids, woo hoo.
I guess he did offer to be generous, he started to offer me a stock tip, but I declined saying that my timing was always terrible. He said that timing was everything in the stock market.
When we got to his cottage, he said, "I know I promised you a hundred bucks, but the fare can't be anything close to that...........", and I cut him off. I told him that no matter what he promised, all I could legally charge him was the fare calculated as stated on the door of the cab, he owed me something like $18.00 and as always tips were at the discretion of the passenger. He gave me a fifty and asked me if it was enough. I told him that any tip offered by a passenger was appreciated. He told me to keep it, and I hung around long enough to see that he'd gotten the combination correct for the garage door. As he was stepping into the garage, I was turning the corner, heading back down town.
He was fat. He wasn't wearing pants, he wore some kind of exercise suit bottom, and he was wearing something like a hooded sweatshirt for a top. He had a couple of takeout bags in one hand, perhaps tacos in one and pizza in the other. He just didn't look real promising. People who carry around bags with tacos don't usually tip well, and given it was a football night, he'd probably expect me to single him out to timbuc two, so I drove past, as did the cab before me and the cab after me. There were literally hundreds of people who wanted a cab ride in the next 4 blocks, so there were lots of passengers to pick from.
In the course of an hour he migrated 2 blocks to the corner of State and Gilman. I'd pulled over to get a group of 4 who were waving, and he rushed up to me, and frantically begged me to take him anywhere, he said he'd give me a hundred bucks to take him anywhere, just get him away from State st. I don't think I've ever been asked for a ride by a person who looked more terrified. I told him I'd take him were ever it was that he wanted to go. I knew why he wanted to go anywhere, he'd told a driver or 2 where he really wanted to go and they told him they wouldn't go there. When he was safely seated in the back seat, I asked him again, where to? He gave me a street name that rung a bell, but I couldn't place it, so I asked him where that street was. Off Lacy rd. he said. Near Fish Hatch? Yes. No question in my mind, he'd been told they wouldn't take him there, it's quite a way from downtown, perhaps 6 miles. So, we were off.
The first thing he talked about was what a terrifying place State st. was. He said that in an hour of attempting to flag a cab, he'd seen 5 fist fights. I've seen a lot of fights on State st. myself. Have you ever seen a guy get hit over the head with a beer bottle? I was sitting in front of The Pub one night and I watched a guy come out of Chesty's, and start to walk down the street, when a guy rushed out of the bar and hit him over the head with a beer bottle, just like in the movies. The guy was immediately covered with blood, but it didn't faze him, he spun around and blasted the guy with a single right. The guy who swung the beer bottle went stiff and went down about the same as if someone had a plank standing on end and just let it fall over. The guy who was covered with blood, turned around and continued to walk down the street like nothing special had happened. You can definitely see fist fights on State st.
Once he'd gotten the fear out of his system, he started talking about losing his daughter. His daughter had been a undergrad, until she'd been killed in a traffic accident earlier in the fall. He had more children, but only one daughter. It was easy to tell, it was dominating his life, and would for quite a while to come. He said that if he were to live life over again, he'd have more children. It sounded like that would be the focus of his life if he had it to do over again, and as we all know, children and family are not the focus of many men's lives. I had to change the subject, it was just a little too sad for me.
He said he ran a couple of hedge funds, he was from Chicago. Now, I knew why his destination rang an odd kind of bell. I'd taken people there before, but never the same people, and they were always from out of town. Now I knew what that modest 3 bed room ranch in Fitchburg really was, it was the cottage up north. When I think of a cottage up north, I think of a flimsy house on a lake, decked out in hunting and fishing decor, but I'm not a big time fat cat. This was a cottage up north for excursions to party city, Madison, Wisconsin, for some rich people from Chicago. I guess......... What the allure of this terrifying place called State st. would be for big city people is I just couldn't tell you, a lot of bars and drunk kids, woo hoo.
I guess he did offer to be generous, he started to offer me a stock tip, but I declined saying that my timing was always terrible. He said that timing was everything in the stock market.
When we got to his cottage, he said, "I know I promised you a hundred bucks, but the fare can't be anything close to that...........", and I cut him off. I told him that no matter what he promised, all I could legally charge him was the fare calculated as stated on the door of the cab, he owed me something like $18.00 and as always tips were at the discretion of the passenger. He gave me a fifty and asked me if it was enough. I told him that any tip offered by a passenger was appreciated. He told me to keep it, and I hung around long enough to see that he'd gotten the combination correct for the garage door. As he was stepping into the garage, I was turning the corner, heading back down town.
Monday, December 22, 2008
What do you suppose is news worthy?
A high speed chase after a bank robbery? A body lying on the side of the road, close to death, hit late at night and left to die? Neither, from what I've seen.
It was the a football Saturday. The Saturday night before Halloween. It was fat, the money was real good that night, Bucky won and clinched the first Rose Bowl bid since the '60's. I was driving home around 3:45am, and at the intersection of John Nolan and Olin, I passed what looked like a guy sleeping on the shoulder of the road. I said to myself, it had to be a Halloween prank, it was way to cold for anybody to be sleeping on the shoulder of the road, he'd be freezing. I got down to my turn onto Rimrock, and I had to go back for a second look, that guy just looked too real.
John Nolan was tore up at the time, so it wasn't a divided boulevard like it normally is. My first reaction was to pull up with the head lamps on the guy, get out, and take a close look. Then I said to myself, wait a minute, what happens if he jumps up pointing a gun at me and says he wants my wallet and keys, thank you very much? I just won't take the chance, so I slowly pulled up on the shoulder on the wrong side of the road. I noticed a red stripe down the center of his head, as if the skin had been split and pulled apart 1/2" or so, yeah that's real, and he's either dead or close to it. I got out of my car and walked up to the body, it was quivering ever so slightly, so he was still alive. I looked immediately at his feet, no shoes. He was a pedestrian who'd been hit by a car, knocked out of his shoes. I found his shoes 50 feet away.
There wasn't much traffic but I was trying to stop every car that passed. The ones that did stop, I asked if they had a cell phone, if memory serves, it was the sixth car that had a cell phone and called the cops. The lady who called the cops told me they said they were coming, and she took off down the causeway toward downtown. It didn't take long for the first squad to arrive, and an ambulance came pretty quick too. Within 20 minutes there were dozens of squads, they had John Nolan closed from North Shore to Rim Rock, and there were scores of cops out with flashlights looking for what ever they look for.
The cops went through the immediate stuff with me, did I hit the guy? No. Take a look at my car, no I didn't hit him, who ever hit him hit him hard, look at how far away from the body the shoes are. Then they looked at the car a little, looked into my eyes to see if I'd been drinking, and thank god I hadn't had a barley pop after work. The guy got scooped up pretty quick and was gone, they let me go after around 30-40 minutes.
I watched the news the following day, no mention of the fellow who I was sure was going to die. 2 days later, when I started driving to work, I passed a Sheriff's squad that looked like he was working radar about 4 blocks from where I lived. The only problem with this was, I lived on Sandhill road out in the boonies, NE of Oregon. Why would a cop be working radar on a road that only had perhaps 5 cars pass per hour? He wouldn't, but if he was staking me out, because he wanted a second look at my car in the daylight, it might make sense to sit there. He pulled me over, immediately, saying he needed to cite me for not wearing my seat belt. He got his look, gave me the 10 dollar ticket with no points, and I was off on my way. Let no good deed go unpunished.
I kept watching the news, and listening to the news on the radio. I looked at local paper everyday for a week, and there was no mention of that fellow, none what so ever. After another week, I stopped a cop on State st. and asked if she was familiar with the victim I'd found, she said she was. Note, this is now 2 weeks after the guy got hit and left to die. She said, he had indeed died that night. She went on to tell me that the person who did it went to the Sheridan (corner of Rimrock and John Nolan), and used the phone to inform the police that he'd hit a pedestrian, and it had been ruled a legitimate accident. What?????? If that's the case why was it that I needed to call the cops, why did they want first and second looks at my car. Then I called the news director at the local ABC affiliate, and the guy actually talked to me. I asked him if he was familiar with the accident and death, he said he was. Well, why isn't it on the news???? His reply shocked me, he said it wasn't news worthy.
News worthy? Vehicular homicide isn't news worthy? Since when? If I killed a pedestrian, it would be news worthy. Indeed, not only did the ABC affiliate chose to not cover it, every radio station and every news paper chose to not cover it either. At this point, I guess I should share one small detail that I haven't yet included, the guy who got killed was probably an itinerant who was camping in the woods behind the Sheridan. Guess his life wasn't worth much.
A story that did get covered in the news, but could have been a REALLY BIG story was a high speed chase that went past me one afternoon. I was pulling up to the light a the corner of Schroeder rd. and Gammon, when this car went flying past me with a cop hot on his tail. They both went past in the oncoming side of the street, and ran the red light, narrowly missing a major collision. I watched as the guy tried to do a power slide turn on to New Washburn, and miss it, he crashed into the median, and the cop was out of the squad with a gun drawn in an instant.
Hmmm, interesting. I had a delivery to make and one to pick, so I didn't have time to rubber neck this fracas, and continued past the cop with the gun on my way south on Gammon rd. When I got to Raymond rd., what should I see but a mobile recording truck for one of the local TV stations. I don't know what they were doing, but what ever it was, they were mostly just milling around. I pulled up and told them that if they were interested in a high speed chase and accident, they could take pictures of it at the corner of Gammon and New Washburn. They didn't bother, I mean who cares what a cab driver in a cab says, right?
The accident they didn't cover was the end of a high speed chase following a bank holdup. That cop caught that bank robber.
It was the a football Saturday. The Saturday night before Halloween. It was fat, the money was real good that night, Bucky won and clinched the first Rose Bowl bid since the '60's. I was driving home around 3:45am, and at the intersection of John Nolan and Olin, I passed what looked like a guy sleeping on the shoulder of the road. I said to myself, it had to be a Halloween prank, it was way to cold for anybody to be sleeping on the shoulder of the road, he'd be freezing. I got down to my turn onto Rimrock, and I had to go back for a second look, that guy just looked too real.
John Nolan was tore up at the time, so it wasn't a divided boulevard like it normally is. My first reaction was to pull up with the head lamps on the guy, get out, and take a close look. Then I said to myself, wait a minute, what happens if he jumps up pointing a gun at me and says he wants my wallet and keys, thank you very much? I just won't take the chance, so I slowly pulled up on the shoulder on the wrong side of the road. I noticed a red stripe down the center of his head, as if the skin had been split and pulled apart 1/2" or so, yeah that's real, and he's either dead or close to it. I got out of my car and walked up to the body, it was quivering ever so slightly, so he was still alive. I looked immediately at his feet, no shoes. He was a pedestrian who'd been hit by a car, knocked out of his shoes. I found his shoes 50 feet away.
There wasn't much traffic but I was trying to stop every car that passed. The ones that did stop, I asked if they had a cell phone, if memory serves, it was the sixth car that had a cell phone and called the cops. The lady who called the cops told me they said they were coming, and she took off down the causeway toward downtown. It didn't take long for the first squad to arrive, and an ambulance came pretty quick too. Within 20 minutes there were dozens of squads, they had John Nolan closed from North Shore to Rim Rock, and there were scores of cops out with flashlights looking for what ever they look for.
The cops went through the immediate stuff with me, did I hit the guy? No. Take a look at my car, no I didn't hit him, who ever hit him hit him hard, look at how far away from the body the shoes are. Then they looked at the car a little, looked into my eyes to see if I'd been drinking, and thank god I hadn't had a barley pop after work. The guy got scooped up pretty quick and was gone, they let me go after around 30-40 minutes.
I watched the news the following day, no mention of the fellow who I was sure was going to die. 2 days later, when I started driving to work, I passed a Sheriff's squad that looked like he was working radar about 4 blocks from where I lived. The only problem with this was, I lived on Sandhill road out in the boonies, NE of Oregon. Why would a cop be working radar on a road that only had perhaps 5 cars pass per hour? He wouldn't, but if he was staking me out, because he wanted a second look at my car in the daylight, it might make sense to sit there. He pulled me over, immediately, saying he needed to cite me for not wearing my seat belt. He got his look, gave me the 10 dollar ticket with no points, and I was off on my way. Let no good deed go unpunished.
I kept watching the news, and listening to the news on the radio. I looked at local paper everyday for a week, and there was no mention of that fellow, none what so ever. After another week, I stopped a cop on State st. and asked if she was familiar with the victim I'd found, she said she was. Note, this is now 2 weeks after the guy got hit and left to die. She said, he had indeed died that night. She went on to tell me that the person who did it went to the Sheridan (corner of Rimrock and John Nolan), and used the phone to inform the police that he'd hit a pedestrian, and it had been ruled a legitimate accident. What?????? If that's the case why was it that I needed to call the cops, why did they want first and second looks at my car. Then I called the news director at the local ABC affiliate, and the guy actually talked to me. I asked him if he was familiar with the accident and death, he said he was. Well, why isn't it on the news???? His reply shocked me, he said it wasn't news worthy.
News worthy? Vehicular homicide isn't news worthy? Since when? If I killed a pedestrian, it would be news worthy. Indeed, not only did the ABC affiliate chose to not cover it, every radio station and every news paper chose to not cover it either. At this point, I guess I should share one small detail that I haven't yet included, the guy who got killed was probably an itinerant who was camping in the woods behind the Sheridan. Guess his life wasn't worth much.
A story that did get covered in the news, but could have been a REALLY BIG story was a high speed chase that went past me one afternoon. I was pulling up to the light a the corner of Schroeder rd. and Gammon, when this car went flying past me with a cop hot on his tail. They both went past in the oncoming side of the street, and ran the red light, narrowly missing a major collision. I watched as the guy tried to do a power slide turn on to New Washburn, and miss it, he crashed into the median, and the cop was out of the squad with a gun drawn in an instant.
Hmmm, interesting. I had a delivery to make and one to pick, so I didn't have time to rubber neck this fracas, and continued past the cop with the gun on my way south on Gammon rd. When I got to Raymond rd., what should I see but a mobile recording truck for one of the local TV stations. I don't know what they were doing, but what ever it was, they were mostly just milling around. I pulled up and told them that if they were interested in a high speed chase and accident, they could take pictures of it at the corner of Gammon and New Washburn. They didn't bother, I mean who cares what a cab driver in a cab says, right?
The accident they didn't cover was the end of a high speed chase following a bank holdup. That cop caught that bank robber.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Somebody did a doougie in this cab?!?!?!?????
I will forever remember that line as the single funniest thing I've ever heard said in my cab. In 30 seconds I went from a slow smoldering rage to laughing so hard, I couldn't stop laughing for 3 days. Here's how it went..........
It was a normal winter afternoon. I started at 3:00 pm., and I headed out to the east side to start. I was lucky. I was going to sit on a couple of metro's that came out of the east Y at 3:30, when a delivery popped on Milwaukee st. I got the delivery, and as I got back in the cab the dispatcher stuffed me the metro's. Wow. What a start! I was going to go down the beltline and across the south beltline all the way to Verona rd. I was set for rush hour.
When I pulled behind the east Y, Koombiiyah came out right away. Koombiiyah? Yeah, she chant's koombiiyah like a broken record, which will drive you right out of your mind. I have a long standing deal with Koombiiyah, if she keeps her mouth shut she can sit next to the window in the front seat. She waddles up to the cab, opens the passenger door to the front seat and gets in. I say to myself that she must have been playing basketball or something, she really smells like she needs a bath. It takes around 3 minutes for the other passenger to come out, she's the quiet type, she sits in the back seat and never says a word.
I start off down Stoughton rd., and I'm hitting everything in sight!!! By the time we get past Cottege Grove rd., the smell is getting pretty bad. I tell Koombiiyah to roll down the window.
"I don't wanna roll down the window. I think I be cold", she says.
This goes back and forth a couple of times, me telling her to roll down the window and her refusing. Finally I tell her that if she doesn't roll down the window, she's going in the back seat. "Why I gotta go in the back seat?", she sighed, "I not singing."
"Roll the window down, and roll it down now!!!!!"
She gave in and rolled it down. Sitting in the front seat was very important, and she'd act about like a 6 year old. Usually she's actually a sort of fun passenger. How many 40ish dwarfs use a ball point pen as a make believe cigarette, take fake puffs off it, and tap fake ash's off it?
I had passengers in and out, delivery's in and out, and when I finally got to South Towne, the cab was loaded, 5 passengers, so she had to scoot over and let a rather elegantly dressed woman in, who wore a white car coat. The woman in the white car coat was going to the dealer to pick up her Lexus, she sat right where Koombiiyah had been sitting.
When I got to Leopold Way to where Koombiiyah got out, she waddled away from the cab toward the building. There was a wet spot on the seat where she'd been sitting, and it was steaming in the cold winter air. The stench was beyond description. As she waddled away, I could see the dark circle on the back of her coat about hip pocket high. It was immediately obvious, she'd been sitting in a pile since she'd gotten in at the east Y. I was ready to kill somebody!!!!!!! Oh, my god!!!!!!
I still had another oblivious passenger in the back seat, he sat there like a Spinx, and if he smelled it, he never let on. I went to the gas station at Todd drive and used the window squeegee to clean the seat. Thank god those Diplomats had vinyl bench seats. With the windows open, I took the last passenger to Lumley, and I was empty.
A short time later, I got a lady from Allied drive to south Park (yes, that south Park, in fact). I told her all about it, and she said that she figgured I had a perfict right to be as wound as I was. She gave me her sympathies, paid me, got out and I sat and steamed for a few more minutes.
Then I got 2 rides to do. The grocery for 3 people going to Fisher st., and a single from Bram to Sommerset. I pulled into the grocery and there were 2 huge black ladies and a skinny black man waiting with 3 carts of groceries. The guy got in the front seat, while the ladies filled the trunk. When they sat down, they told me the address, I put the cab in drive and lifted my foot off the brake.
The cab hadn't moved 3 feet when the black guys finger went past my nose. He was pointing out the drivers window, his hand right in front of my face. He said, "Hey man, I left something in that cart. I left something in that cart."
I put my foot back down on the brake and turned and looked in to the darkess to see what he'd left in the cart. Then his finger was right in front of my head, he was pointing at me and his finger was only 2 inches from me. "Ah hah!!! Ah hah!!! I didn't leave nothing in that cart!! Ah hah!! Ah hah!! I gotcha!!!! I didn't leave nothing in that cart!! Ah hah!! Ah hah!! I gotcha!! I gotcha!!", the skinny black guy really thought he was funny.
I slowly turned. His finger was about 2 inches from my nose. I lifted my finger and pointed it at him and coldly said, "You, got me?!? Why do you realize that less than an hour ago, somebody shit their pants, right where you're sitting??"
He came off the seat faster than anybody I've ever seen. He was holding himself up with both hands, one on the door rest and on the seat between us. The ladies in the back seat roared, they thought it was hysterical, "Ahhhh hah hah, you had to sit in the front seat. Ahhhhh hah hah........."
The guy sputtered out, "Whut, whut??? You mean somebody did a doougie in this cab?????" Then he slowly slumped back down onto the seat. "Oh man, I'm sitting in doougie. Oh man, I can smell it!!"
The ladies in the back seat continued to roar. He made me let him get into the back seat.
I didn't stop laughing for 3 days.
It was a normal winter afternoon. I started at 3:00 pm., and I headed out to the east side to start. I was lucky. I was going to sit on a couple of metro's that came out of the east Y at 3:30, when a delivery popped on Milwaukee st. I got the delivery, and as I got back in the cab the dispatcher stuffed me the metro's. Wow. What a start! I was going to go down the beltline and across the south beltline all the way to Verona rd. I was set for rush hour.
When I pulled behind the east Y, Koombiiyah came out right away. Koombiiyah? Yeah, she chant's koombiiyah like a broken record, which will drive you right out of your mind. I have a long standing deal with Koombiiyah, if she keeps her mouth shut she can sit next to the window in the front seat. She waddles up to the cab, opens the passenger door to the front seat and gets in. I say to myself that she must have been playing basketball or something, she really smells like she needs a bath. It takes around 3 minutes for the other passenger to come out, she's the quiet type, she sits in the back seat and never says a word.
I start off down Stoughton rd., and I'm hitting everything in sight!!! By the time we get past Cottege Grove rd., the smell is getting pretty bad. I tell Koombiiyah to roll down the window.
"I don't wanna roll down the window. I think I be cold", she says.
This goes back and forth a couple of times, me telling her to roll down the window and her refusing. Finally I tell her that if she doesn't roll down the window, she's going in the back seat. "Why I gotta go in the back seat?", she sighed, "I not singing."
"Roll the window down, and roll it down now!!!!!"
She gave in and rolled it down. Sitting in the front seat was very important, and she'd act about like a 6 year old. Usually she's actually a sort of fun passenger. How many 40ish dwarfs use a ball point pen as a make believe cigarette, take fake puffs off it, and tap fake ash's off it?
I had passengers in and out, delivery's in and out, and when I finally got to South Towne, the cab was loaded, 5 passengers, so she had to scoot over and let a rather elegantly dressed woman in, who wore a white car coat. The woman in the white car coat was going to the dealer to pick up her Lexus, she sat right where Koombiiyah had been sitting.
When I got to Leopold Way to where Koombiiyah got out, she waddled away from the cab toward the building. There was a wet spot on the seat where she'd been sitting, and it was steaming in the cold winter air. The stench was beyond description. As she waddled away, I could see the dark circle on the back of her coat about hip pocket high. It was immediately obvious, she'd been sitting in a pile since she'd gotten in at the east Y. I was ready to kill somebody!!!!!!! Oh, my god!!!!!!
I still had another oblivious passenger in the back seat, he sat there like a Spinx, and if he smelled it, he never let on. I went to the gas station at Todd drive and used the window squeegee to clean the seat. Thank god those Diplomats had vinyl bench seats. With the windows open, I took the last passenger to Lumley, and I was empty.
A short time later, I got a lady from Allied drive to south Park (yes, that south Park, in fact). I told her all about it, and she said that she figgured I had a perfict right to be as wound as I was. She gave me her sympathies, paid me, got out and I sat and steamed for a few more minutes.
Then I got 2 rides to do. The grocery for 3 people going to Fisher st., and a single from Bram to Sommerset. I pulled into the grocery and there were 2 huge black ladies and a skinny black man waiting with 3 carts of groceries. The guy got in the front seat, while the ladies filled the trunk. When they sat down, they told me the address, I put the cab in drive and lifted my foot off the brake.
The cab hadn't moved 3 feet when the black guys finger went past my nose. He was pointing out the drivers window, his hand right in front of my face. He said, "Hey man, I left something in that cart. I left something in that cart."
I put my foot back down on the brake and turned and looked in to the darkess to see what he'd left in the cart. Then his finger was right in front of my head, he was pointing at me and his finger was only 2 inches from me. "Ah hah!!! Ah hah!!! I didn't leave nothing in that cart!! Ah hah!! Ah hah!! I gotcha!!!! I didn't leave nothing in that cart!! Ah hah!! Ah hah!! I gotcha!! I gotcha!!", the skinny black guy really thought he was funny.
I slowly turned. His finger was about 2 inches from my nose. I lifted my finger and pointed it at him and coldly said, "You, got me?!? Why do you realize that less than an hour ago, somebody shit their pants, right where you're sitting??"
He came off the seat faster than anybody I've ever seen. He was holding himself up with both hands, one on the door rest and on the seat between us. The ladies in the back seat roared, they thought it was hysterical, "Ahhhh hah hah, you had to sit in the front seat. Ahhhhh hah hah........."
The guy sputtered out, "Whut, whut??? You mean somebody did a doougie in this cab?????" Then he slowly slumped back down onto the seat. "Oh man, I'm sitting in doougie. Oh man, I can smell it!!"
The ladies in the back seat continued to roar. He made me let him get into the back seat.
I didn't stop laughing for 3 days.
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