Taxi Vignettes

Last December I picked up a woman who had a most extraordinary European business trip. I'll call her Ella. Her trip started out routinely enough. Everything was going as scripted. What Ella hadn't planned on was two days of the bizarre.

Ella was sitting at the front end of a rail car on a high-speed train that was nearing Zurich, when without warning there was a flash followed by a deafening bang. She feared her hearing might be nearly lost. It took hours for the pain to subside. Had she been riding in the car just ahead, surly she would have been injured or killed. She was happy to be alive. She later found it odd that there was no mention of the incident in the news, local or otherwise.

That next day in Zurich, though still shook up, Ella managed a successful meeting. She was looking forward to retiring to her hotel room to enjoy a nice hot shower, but it wasn't to be. One of the men coerced her into having dinner with his girlfriend. The businessman insisted that he would 'seal the deal' if Ella would have a night out with his girlfriend, for she was desperate for a woman's company; she needed someone to share girl talk with.

Around eight that night an exhausted Ella found herself in a five star restaurant with the girlfriend, a Paris Hilton look-alike. On entering the room the girlfriend caused diners to stop mid-bite and the wait staff to scurry about.

They had barely been seated at the table when the girlfriend with tears in her eyes began to tell Ella her, up to that point, life story. She had been born into great wealth, which she said was for the most part from oil money. She hated it. The damned dirty oil had murdered her mother. Actually her stepfather had murdered her mother over the oil riches. She just knew it! She stopped just long enough, while wiping her nose, to order dinner.

Abruptly, the girlfriend stood up and announced she needed some air, and walked out. Ella said she welcomed the chance to be alone. Since boarding the train the day before her life had felt unreal, as if she were acting out a part on a theater stage.

The girlfriend returned, but she wasn't alone. As she walked in with a man on each arm, two chairs were added to the table. The girlfriend explained to Ella, "These poor men need to eat!" They were strangers she had met while out for a smoke.

Eating four very expensive meals, Ella and the men heard more of the girlfriend's determination to bring to justice the stepfather who had killed her mother. Her sobs were soon all that was heard in the room. When the girlfriend realized that she was causing a scene she stood up, raised her glass and with an apology to the entire restaurant announced, "Dinner is on me!"

In Ella's driveway as I was taking her bags out of the back of the taxi she said, "Look at this." Ella had wrapped herself in a beautiful grey fur scarf. The girlfriend had insisted Ella might be cold on her way home.

Continue reading "A Christmas Play on Life" »

Cab Yard Sign -- instructing the dispatcher and phone people how to clock in.

I don't scare easily, after all I am a taxi driver. I do spend a good deal of time in or around airports though, and there is a new fear or caution that lurks in the back of my mind.

I was at SFO in the baggage claim area for American Airlines when I noticed a man staring at my Yellow Cab badge. He set a black bag down at my feet and said, "I'll be back." (Without the accent) as he turned and sprinted up the stairs.

The man didn't look like a cold-blooded terrorist. He was tall, thin, a dressed in blue jeans and t-shirt 30ish good-looking black man. After what were only a few minutes that felt longer, he returned; removed his backpack and placed it next to the bag. Again he went upstairs.

I did not appreciate being an unwilling accomplice to a possibly explosive situation, but he didn't look like a bad guy. Did he?

I had just about had it with the guy, and was about to walk away when he reappeared.
Digging into the backpack, he pulled out a small black computer. He set it on a chair, grabbed his other stuff and walked around the corner leaving me to go up in flames.

No loud boom and I didn't vaporize. Suddenly standing next to me, he said in a soft nearly inaudible voice, "Thanks" as he left for the last time with his final possession.

Why hadn't I said something to begin with? Why didn't I tell him, "Sorry, but you can't do that." I need to get over being polite, because the next time might be...might be the last time.

Last night at 8:04pm I was just about to do a bad, bad thing - eat. Parked well into the drive-thru lane at an In-N-Out Burger, getting the $2.15 ready, the cab began to shake. Something was very wrong. Stuck in a drive-thru up near SFO...the trouble I would be in!!! I would miss the flight that was due in soon. Even worse, I would have totally messed up the burger orders. Boy, was I glad when I realized it was ONLY an earthquake.*

*The Calaveras Fault produced this magnitude-5.6 quake. It did no serious damage if you don't count the damage done to our shaky sense of safety.

Body Worlds 2 & The Three Pound Gem exhibit is in San José at The Museum of Innovation. I was asked by the Body Worlds people to do a pick up at SFO. The three men would be coming to California from Germany, and only one of the three gentlemen spoke a a bit of English.

At 7:30pm there I was at SFO, standing at the bottom of the escalator holding a sign with the three names, waiting for my customers. My imagination was conjuring up a vision of Albert Einsteins, so when two young guys resembling rock stars pointed at the sign, I thought they must be pointing to someone behind me. They indicated who they were by pointing to their names. The third guy? Somehow they managed to convey that their co-traveler was coming in later.

I directed them to carousel number two and excused myself. The lady in the baggage claim office entered the third guy's name into her computer and told me "Yes" he would be in at 10:30pm.

What, oh what, was I going to do with two young guys that had no idea how far away (40-miles) San Jose was. Standing in baggage claim with their bags on a cart, while I was making eating motions I asked if they were hungry.

Big smiles. One said, "Hamburgers?" I said, "Yes, hamburgers." The other one said, "McDonald's?" I said, "IN-N-OUT." I made like I was turning a steering wheel and said, "Let's drive." They echoed, "Let's drive!"

It took only about 20 minutes for them to order and scarf down two burgers each. Back in the taxi I suggested we go to a store. I heard, "A salon?" Oh dear. I drove them over to the nearest Longs. As soon as I pulled up, they bound out of the cab. I'm not sure what kind of 'salon' they were referring to, but Longs was a hit.

One of the fellows took off to the food isle, as the other guy started acting like a monkey. It hit me - he wanted deodorant.

With only thirty minutes left, I was waiting in a parking lot with two Germans, a bag of Otis Spunkmeyer's premium muffins, Evian bottled water, and deodorant. I had
reconciled myself for a long thirty minutes when I heard the cellophane rattle of the muffin wrapper. Ah for crumbs sake! I started the cab - I wanted to get the guy that got hung up, and get back to San Jose!

I got the three German lads to the hotel in San Jose at almost midnight. I found out the next day they would be setting up the bodies of Body Worlds.

I was in a turn lane at the airport waiting for the cement truck in front of me to go. I needed to get into the passenger pick up area of terminal C, but the guy wasn't turning even though he could have done so safely several times. I was just about to lay on the horn, when he jumped down. Walking back to me holding a clipboard, I figured he was going to let me in on some mechanical problem, he came up to my window. Mr.Cement pointed to a piece of paper and asked, "Do you know the way to terminal B?" I wanted to ask him if I looked like I wouldn't know. The thing is a humongous piece of 'how could anyone miss it' construction, but I just said, "Sure."

As I was explaining the route, I could see the panic expressed on his face, I knew he was lost. Plan B - He jumped at my suggestion to escort him over to the new terminal. It was not an easy task to pull ourselves back into traffic. I worried that his big truck might not fit under some of the obstacles we would encounter, so it took ingenuity on my part to get the big guy there without major damage to his truck or a structure. We went places we had no business going.

When we came up to a traffic light, that is only used for the work trucks, I motioned for him to stop. I was blocking traffic but I had to get one of the hard hats over to me. After some horn honking a guy finally came over. "Hi, I have a cement truck for you." The man almost kissed the hood of my cab saying, "We have been waiting for it, thanks." He manually switched the light to green and pointed the cement truck though. The trucker gave ma a thank you toot- toot.

I took my good deed points and got myself back for my incoming customers as fast as the speed limit would allow.

Norman Y. Mineta San Jose International Airport is big name for our airport so I'll just refer to it as SJC.

SJC is adding a long needed new terminal but it is not easy dealing with the construction, and it will only get worse. The hardest part for us, the taxicabs, will be the changes to the roads and to the areas where we park to pick up our customers.

The final steel beam was hoisted into place to complete the steel frame of its new North Concourse, terminal B, and I was invited to attend. I met San José mayor Chuck Reed and former United States Secretary of Transportation Norman Mineta. It was cool to sign my name on the final steel beam along with the visiting dignitaries.

I picked up a fare at SJC, and she asked if I would take her home. She said that she lived by Kelly Park just off of Senter Rd. It was just a typical ride until we got close to her condo complex. The street was lined with SJPD cruisers, and big orange cones were blocking our left turn. Car after car in front of me were being turned away. This was not an option for my passenger as it was her only way in.

Risking a severe reprimand, I drove toward the police officer as she was pointing me away from the street. As I explained our predicament she turned and looked over her shoulder at the motorcycle gang milling about up the road, and then back at me. I assured her I would be fine with driving in. She finally gave me the go ahead, but I could see the concern in her eyes, by saying,"Be very, very careful."

The road was made narrow by the numerous police cars parked barely off to each side. Other than that we made it to her home without noticing what would have the police in such a tizzy. I had no real problem getting her to her condo, but getting back out was another story.

Continue reading "Blocked" »

Look what happened when my husband upset me! It took a good number of taxi rides to pay for these Skechers Shoes.