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5-29-07
Luanne
Luanne rides with the company twice each
weekday: to work at
UK in the morning and back home to Eastland each afternoon. Her calls
average
between $10-15 (a decent fare, by any standards) and she is nice enough
(if a bit whiny) but
she is by far the least favorite passenger of every driver in the
company.
From six to eight each morning when calls go out in Zone 11 there is
complete and total radio silence. No one wants
Luanne. We are running out of drivers to surprise with this
special call. I have had her. Rick has
had her. Big Daddy, Jeannetta, Neon
Leon, and Danny
have
all had her; so have Bobby, the Dutch Boys, and Tim, the
new guy. And once you've driven Luanne you
never want to do it again. Ever.

Why?
Because she weighs a minimum of five hundred pounds (I have
heard everything from 495-562 lbs. on the cabbie grapevine) and smells
like
wine fermented from cottage cheese and the red strings you pull off
slices of
bologna.
The first time I drove Luanne, my jaw hit my chest when I
saw her come waddling out of her building. I had never seen anyone that
big in
my life. I leaned over and scooted the front seat all the way back,
knowing
that she wasn’t going to be able to get herself up into the back of my
cab. I
rolled down every window in the van that I could, flipped the air on
high, and
lit a cigarette.
Luanne is so big that she is out of breath by the time she
gets to the cab (a distance of maybe 100 feet). Too big to maneuver
herself
into the back of the van on her own power, she rides up front, having
to lean
inside and grab the steering wheel as she wriggle-pulls herself into
the cab.
Her stomach rests on the dashboard when she’s finally in. She can’t
fasten the
seatbelt and oozes over into the drivers’ space. (Both Rick and I discovered too late that we
couldn’t respond to the
dispatch radio because our mikes were trapped beneath her leg.)
The cab sported a 30° starboard list
for the entire voyage. Of note: in the Navy, the only times my
ship pitched 30° or more was during (a) hurricanes,
or (b) the very worst of sea storms and then usually
only with a little help from a lax conning officer and a
smartass helmsman
who knew just how to let the waves hit the bow
to get the best roll while still maintaining course (great
fun just before sunrise when everyone is at breakfast.)
I drove slow so as to avoid
unexpected potholes through the construction work down Winchester road.
When she
asked me not to smoke (which I never do in the cab unless a passenger
himself
wants to) I refused and lit another off the end of the first. I didn't
want to give my reason (she smelled like rotting meat in August) and
was thankful she didn't press the matter.
In the Rose St. median, moments after I'd dropped her off, I doused
myself in Febreeze and set
myself on fire like a Vietnamese monk.
Each morning when calls go out in Zone 11
between 6-8am there is complete radio silence. We
are running out of drivers to surprise with this
special call. I have had her. Rick has had her. Big Daddy and Danny
have
had her. Jeannetta and Neon Leon have. So have the Dutch Boys and Tim,
the
new guy. And once you've driven Luanne you
never want to do it again.
One year ago
today…
5-20-07
Cum Laude
Cab
drivers: 20 percent if the ride went well, 12-15 percent
if the cab stinks like holy hell and/or they terrorized you with their
driving,
10 percent if you felt like your life was in any danger at any time; 5
percent
if you were convinced that they were organizing a crime on their cell
phone
while they were driving you.
—ESPN’s
the Sports Guy, on tipping
I have finally put my education to some practical use. Many
is the time that I bitch to Kevin or Rick that I could have saved
myself
a lot of grief and $40 grand in student loans if I’d just taken some
shop
classes in high school. But last night I made the fucker pay off! Last
night I
got tipped $20 basically because I knew who James Baldwin and Eudora
Welty
were.
(Note: I didn’t fuck it up either, by telling him he was
full of shit when he claimed that Truman Capote ghost wrote To Kill
a
Mockingbird for Harper Lee, that he was just another little gay man
keeping that dream alive. Cum Laude is Latin for
twenty
bones, yo.)
Two years ago
today…
Three years ago
today…
TOP
5-14-07
5:30 am
I learn something new every day.
Sunday night after Leon
hung it up for the night around 1:00 (the hotel bars closed and there
were no
more dregs to scavenge) I was our only cab on the road until Rick started his Monday at 4:30. I
handled what trickle of business there was but spent more time reading my
book than actually running
calls. 
Both Rick and I had personal pick-ups to make at 4:30. Then,
I had two company time calls to put out: one for 5:00, the other for
5:30, both
going to the airport from hotels near the interstate on Winchester Rd.
Since he
was the only driver I had on the road I called him and we agreed that
whoever
cleared at the airport first would take the 5:00, the other would swing
the
5:30. I ended up clearing at the airport before Rick ever marked out
(his peeps
were running a little behind.)
I took my customer through downtown on the way to the
airport. Not only was it the shortest route, but given that rush hour
was still
a couple hours off, it was also the quickest. Since it was his first
visit to town
(he’d only come in to see his daughter graduate from college) it gave
me an
opportunity to show off the town, to be a good ambassador for
Lexington.
As I drove into town I pointed out that most of the stuff on
the outside of New Circle Road in this area was still horse farms ten
to
fifteen years ago and described the very heated local debate over urban
sprawl
that threatens to deprive us of the land that is so uniquely suited to
our
world-famous horsing industry. I pointed out the Jif peanut butter
factory (the largest peanut butter factory in the world that, on
windless nights, makes the town smell like George
Washington Carver’s
nuts)
and the hilarious Big
Ass Fans billboard (featuring the gigantic image of a jackass).
I slowed down as we passed Thoroughbred Park so he could get
a load of the dozens of amazing sculptures of racers, trotters and
foals (he
was suitably impressed.) I showed him the Kentucky
Theater, which opened in 1922 and has been running continuously
ever since
(minus a brief hiatus in the 80s due to fire damage.) It showed the
first run
of Gone with the Wind
in the 30s and
ran disco-era porn flicks in the 70s.
On Main Street I showed him the new courthouses and, farther
down the street, the old one. I pointed at the block of buildings next
to the old
courthouse and explained that in antebellum days what stood there was
the
largest slave auction facility north of New Orleans; the only thing
remaining
of it was a bar & grill that bore its name: Cheapside. 
Turning onto Broadway he got a look at Triangle Park,
fountains backlit and sparkling. Behind it, I pointed at the largest
house of
worship in Kentucky: Rupp Arena. I told him a story of our priorities here.
As we rounded the corner onto Jefferson, I pointed out the Mary Todd
Lincoln House. I explained
that unlike the Great Compromiser Henry Clay—whose
house is on the other side
of town—Mary Todd actually made it to the White House.
Heading out Versailles Road, I explained that we were
entering a part of town commonly called “Mexington” because of its
large
Hispanic population. As we drove through I pointed to my left. “Now that is Dave’s Motel. That’s where you can
pick up crack-hos. Aaand, it doesn’t look like the girls are out yet.”
He laughed and said, “Every town has got them.”
Soon the scenery turned back into horse farms. I told him
the difference between the black and white fences. Back in the day
black fences
indicated old money, white the nouveau riche (white paint was three
cents more per
gallon than black.) I showed him the entrance to Keeneland.
After dropping him at the airport I headed back through
Mexington toward the base. There were a couple girls in front of Dave’s
Motel
as I drove by—one by the pay phones, another up by the curb. I glanced
at the time:
5:35 am. They weren’t there fifteen minutes ago
Now I know: first shift crack-hos punch
the clock at five-thirty.
Three
years ago today…
5-08-07
Bad Salad
After driving on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights (the busiest
nights of the week) and then working as our night manager on Sunday and
Monday (the slowest) I am physically fucking exhausted by the time I
get off Tuesday morning. By default, I take that night off. I sleep
late and when I get up Jenn and I
usually go grab some take-out and return home to watch our shows (each
week we TiVo The Sopranos
and The
Riches so we can watch them together.) Tonight we made salads at
Kroger before picking up some chicken wings from Lee's Famous Recipe (the
wings because dinner has to have something from one of her three food
groups: Meats, Sweets, or Cheese.)

After
we'd finished our shows, I idly flipped through the channels with Boss on my lap while she went to the
bathroom. I found an
NBA playoff game
and figured I'd watch it until she came back. When the quarter ended
she was still gone. I went to the computer room and called through the
shut door, "Jenn? You okay?"
I heard a little tiny "Yeah" in between splashes that sounded like
someone throwing grapefruit in a pond. Spe-looonk! Spe-looonk!
"You sure?" I asked.
Another spe-looonks. "Yeah."
I shrugged and went back to the living room to watch some more of the
game with Bossie.
A few minutes later she came out and pronounced to me: "Bad Salad."
I
couldn't help but to laugh. "No, silly girl, it's not a bad salad.
That's what's supposed to happen. When you eat leafy green things it
makes your digestive system regular. Beleive it or not: most people
take a shit more than once a week."
5-05-07
The Pied-Pipers of Pussy
It's been a while since I did a roll call to let
you know what miscreants we have driving for us these days and what
they are up to. Anyway, here it goes. (Drivers listed in bold text are
currently at White Cab, the rest are elsewhere.)
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#01 Luke – since
Jeannetta
quit working the airport
nearly a year ago, I don’t think we can refer to her as the Lizard Queen any more.
If we were to
have airport royalty these days, it’d have to be Luke. All he does is
his
minimal Woodford Taxi biz and work the ‘port. Usually a day shifter, I
see him
on both ends of my night watch. All Hail the new Lizard King!
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#06 Pops – still in Florida
recovering from surgery as far
as I know. Of course, at his age he may be dead. I need to check on
this.
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#06 Charles
– The
new Driver #06, Charles is a rookie that won’t make it through the
summer. Wrap
your mind around this: Charles is dyslexic. He can’t read road signs or
maps. I
don’t know what else to say: I feel sorry for the guy but he just
isn’t cut
out for this line of work.
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#07 Rico –
Rico no longer works for White Cab… yet again.
They come, they go: hip-hip-hiyo!
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#07
Chris – the
new Driver #07, Chris is #77 Adel’s
sneaky little shadow. He is
Shitbird Lite,
to Adel’s Shitbird Genuine Draft.
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#007 Giles – A
jovial but none too bright fellow from Gambia, Giles is known as
Chicken Man to
most of the cab-driving community. (I have no idea why and I’m not
really
certain I want to know anyway.) I remember Giles from my short stint at
Jihad Taxi. In order
to pry Giles away
from the Jihad, Wale made Giles
a driver-manager
to get him to come over.
Like Dallas and Truitt before him
he
is completely fucking useless in this capacity…
but, hey, how much can you really expect from a guy whose driver number
is 007? Double-Oh Seven, Giles Bond, License to
Drive!
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#08 Radio –
his
real name is Dave. His nickname comes from his radio presence.
He tells the dispatcher every little thing he does. He
announces where he is, when he stops for gas, if he’s inbound or
outbound, when
he takes a Signal-10, if there
is a
ballgame, if it snows, if he’s going to take a shit. His routine got so
tiresome that after each of his public service announcements on the
radio I have
started responding with my own inane announcements (in my best Radio
Dave voice,
naturally.) My best follow-up announcement so far was: “Driver 31 to
all
drivers. Be advised that it’s raining. Please use windshield wipers.”
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#10 Sharon – Granny
Ten has defected to Jihad Taxi. Her daughter was fired as dispatcher
soon
thereafter. I heard it was about some credit-card fraud thing but then
again one hears all sorts of things.
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#11 Willie
– after
Dallas departed the company, Willie switched from being Driver #38 to
Driver
#11 so that his driver number matched his cab number. You see… Jeannetta owns her own cab and
its
number matches her driver number: 36.
Rick,
too, is an owner-operator is and his cab number matches his number: 20.
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#12 Kevin – One
slow Sunday night a couple weeks ago, Kevin and I stood out in front of
the
base smoking when we saw a fire truck sirens
ablaze turn onto our little forgotten
street. Kevin looked at me and said in mock relief, “Well, thank
God,
they finally got here!”
I chuckled and we watched the truck drive up to and park in front of
the base.
When it was followed by an ambulance, two police cruisers, and a
Channel 18
Action News truck, I looked at Kevin and asked, “You were
kidding right?”
He was just as confused as me and said so as two firemen
bounded from the truck
and wanted to know who had been assaulted. “This is 221 Lee St.,
right?” We
assured them that this was that address but we didn’t know anything
about any
assault.
One of the cops corrected the fireman’s mistake: the address was 231,
not 221
Lee. As it turned out, a woman had been beaten almost to death at the
other end
of the block. They didn’t even know if she was going to make it to the
hospital. Apparently it all went down while Kevin and I stood there,
without us
even hearing a thing.
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#13 Wale
– Wale is
as Wale does. It’s a Wale World.
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#17 Rebekah – A
low-rent stripper-turned-dispatcher, Rebekah is one of several dozen
that have
blown through in the past year. (Rick
likes to joke that Wale ought to
just install a pole in the dispatch office to make the poor girls feel
more at
home.) As far as I know though, she is the first they put in a cab.
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#18 Kristin – a
college girl, it seems she blows in with the on-set of winter. Last
year it was Junior, this year she is
hooking up
with Big Daddy. Does this
mean if
Big Daddy continues on as general manager (as he has been for about six
months
now) he gets to keep her?
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#20 Rick
– Rick
is going to be a grandfather for the very first time (by his son Nick.)
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#23 Big Daddy –
A
couple weekends ago while cruising downtown Big Daddy picked up a
married
couple who argued viciously all the way home. By the time he got them
to their
Andover home, the wife had taken off the kid gloves and was going for
his
juggler. She emasculated him in every way she could think of: you get too drunk to fuck… you are too small
even when you can get it up… I should
have listened to my mom and married [some other guy.] He made more
money than
you and I know he had a bigger dick… you can’t satisfy me. I bet the
cabbie can
fuck me better than you... She ended the tirade by asking Big Daddy
if he
wanted to fuck. Amused, Big Daddy responded that he didn’t get involved
in
domestic disputes, all he wanted was to get paid for the ride. She
stormed out
of the cab. The husband gave him a twenty for the fare and tipped him
another
twenty, thanking him for not taking her up on her offer. Big Daddy
pocketed the
$40 and gave him a business card. “Give me a call. If you want, I can
not fuck
her tomorrow night too.”
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#24 Dennis
– I
love Dennis to death, but I can’t understand a goddamn thing he says.
Of
course, that’s pretty understandable: he is a perpetually
sleep-deprived
Nigerian boxer.
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#25 Phil – Phil
no longer works for White Cab… yet again. He began flaking out a few
months ago:
falling asleep on dispatch, missing work entirely, not paying lease,
sleeping
in his car.
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#26 Ja-Li –
He’s gone. gone. gone! Thank God Almighty, he’s
gone at last! Roger!
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#27 Manna –
The
gift from heaven no longer works for us. When Wale
fired him he sold his cab to one of those sneaky underhanded
Sheloshes (see #28 Abdul below)
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#28 Abdul
–
Abdul’s last name is Shelosh, which if you are a
Lexingtonian tells you everything you need to know about Abdul. The
Sheloshes
run all the Marathon gas stations and most of the check cashing outlets
in town;
they are as close as Lexington comes to organized crime. Abdul
billed himself as the black sheep of the Shelosh family when he
came to
work for us, which I took to mean that he was the lone honest one in
the bunch.
That turned out not to be the case, though. The reason he’s the black
sheep is
that instead of being criminally insane, he is just plain old regular
insane. Wale let him go
after he showed up
at the base late one night and dropped his trousers in front of Big Beth, the
dispatcher. Waving his
goodies at her, he promised to “take her to heaven.” When she declined,
he got
angry and busted up the joint with a gigantic wrench.
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#31 Jay –
busily
working on my Cabbie Manifesto… it’s gonna be like Chicken
Soup for the Frickin’ Cabdriver. (For sample lessons, see
Drivers #69, #75, and #77 below.
Throw in Truitt’s tendency to
run out of
gas and that’s about the meat of it.)
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#36 Jeannetta
– I
don’t see Jeannetta a lot these days, as we work diametrically opposing
schedules. We text a bit, share some fares, stop and chat when we can
if cruise
is slow. Once in a blue moon, we will have a quick Signal-36
at her apartment or the base.
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#44 Speedy Dave
– Speedy
came back to the company for almost a week before we had to repo his
car again
for non-payment of lease. I haven’t seen him on the road since then and
the
rumor is that he has stopped driving a cab all together. I blame it all
on his succubus.
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#51
James – a
surly middle-aged black man who came over from Yellow, James is an
anti-social
dick. He spends most of his time at the airport so our paths thankfully
don’t
cross that often.
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#53
Kofi – another
reject from Yellow who can’t find his own ass.
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#59 Lee – Back in the middle
of September, Lexington
experienced some pretty heavy flash flooding. Two college girls drowned
on Alumni Blvd. after being
swept into storm sewers. They decided to get out of the taxi they were
riding
in when it was turned around by the police and attempt to wade home.
They
didn’t make it. One actually did make it but went back when she heard
her
friend scream. They were each found over a mile away from where they
first went
under: one by St. Joe’s, the other by Lafayette High.
Lee was driving their taxi. He left the company the next week and I
haven’t
seen him driving a cab since.
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#66 Neon Leon
– The
city actually took Leon’s hack permit away for about a week… before
giving it
right back to him. How does the joke go: only cockroaches, Dick Clark,
and Cher
will survive the a-bomb? Let’s add Leon to that list.
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#68 & #86 The
Dutch Boys – The Dutch Boys
joined the Jihad for a few
months after
(yet another) falling out with Wale
over non-payment of lease but have returned in the past couple weeks.
Of note:
when they left the company all the strays at the base disappeared,
since they
have come back so have the cats. (There is a joke there somewhere but
I’m not
going to be the one to make it.)
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#69
Danny – Danny
is the living incarnation of greed. It is his primary motivating
factor. This
is not a good quality in a cab driver. There is a reason it is one of
the seven
deadly sins. Let me tell you a little story about greed, about Danny:
A couple weekends ago when it was raining so hard, he was dispatched
out to the Spearmint
Rhino to pick up a
stripper. She was ready and waiting when he got there at 3:30. As he
pulled
away with her in the cab he was flagged down by two guys standing
outside the
club. They offered him $40 if he would drive them back into town.
Without
asking the stripper if it was okay, Danny waved them into the cab. He
did the
same thing with two other fellows at the Shell station next door, again
not
asking permission from the stripper (whose cab it rightfully was.)
For those of you who don’t know, strippers jealously guard their
privacy. They
dance under assumed names, they don’t give out their home numbers, they
don’t
tell people where they live, and they always have someone (bouncer,
boyfriend,
etc.) escort them outside to their ride after work. This is just smart
because
they are at such a high risk for violent crimes.
As it turns out, all four guys that Danny squoze into the cab had been
her
customers that night. Now all four of them know exactly where she
lives, and
two of them even live in the same apartment complex as she does. Of
course,
that didn’t matter to Danny. What mattered to Danny was the quick $100
he was
going to make from that one ride ($40 from each pair of guys and
another $20
from the stripper.)
A couple days later, she filed a complaint with the company through Kevin (the next
driver to pick her up.)
To remedy the situation, Kevin told management about the complaint and
then took
her on as one of his regulars. Now she
calls him direct and rides with no one else. Had Danny acted in a
lawful (what
he did is against hack regulations) and responsible manner she could
have been
his regular instead of Kevin’s. But Danny just couldn’t turn down that
quick
$100. He used those very words later on at the office, when he was
scoffing to Big Beth about Kevin’s
“whining little
ass.”
Kevin just shrugged when he heard this from Big Beth, and said, “I make
about a
hundred a week from her now. So who’s the loser?”
This is what greed gets you.
-
#75
Big Mike – Ironically,
the stripper was originally Big Mike’s regular… but then he went on
vacation.
Instead of having someone he could trust take care of her in the
interim (I
refer my peeps to Rick, Dennis, or Kevin at night
and Rick, Jeannetta,
or Bobby during the
day) he put her
calls on the dispatch board. Lesson: always take care of your people.
-
#77
Adel – Originally
from Pacmanistan, Adel was fired by both Yellow Cab and Jihad Taxi before
coming over to us. As crooked as grinch teeth, Adel is likely the most
dishonest cab driver in town. He uses every dirty trick in the book to
rip people off: he'll run a hot meter, take the long way to
destinations, charge by the head, over-stuff his cab with passengers,
etc. Get this: he not only scans the competition's air to clip their
drivers, but clips any of our own drivers he can.
But, as we all know, this type of assholery comes back to haunt you: in
a
12-hour span last week, Adel had two of the tires on his cab slashed
(he thinks
it was Willie, but we are pretty
certain it was Luke) and got punched
in the face (by Farmer John, a yellow driver Adel clipped at the
airport last
weekend.) Now, ain’t karma a bitch?
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#94 Mef –
his list of
demands didn’t go over well at all
with Wale. When Wale
told him to
stick them up his ass, Mef painted his pimp sled bright yellow and went
back to
driving for the Empire.
-
#99 Truitt –
in
the last couple weeks of December, Truitt
was always reminding folks that he wouldn’t be working as a cabbie
after New
Year’s Eve. He said it was because his baby-mama insisted on him
getting a job
where he could actually make money. It was at this point I always
pointed out
that he could make money as a cab
driver if he’d ever pull his head out of his ass, it being considerably
easier to see the road that way.) None of us believed
that he
was actually going to quit. Well, it’s been over four months now and we
still ain’t got no Truitt. (Personally, I won’t
believe he isn’t coming back until next New Year.)
-
#122 Bobby –
another defector from Yellow, Bobby is a veteran driver. He wears
horn-rimmed
glasses and is covered with tats. When he isn’t driving a taxi, he
plays guitar
in a local band. Bobby is good people.
Two years ago today...
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