The last two weeks have been excruciating. My taxi had been outfitted with a type of contact paper advertising the San Jose Grand Prix (Champ Car race). The company that I work for (Yellow Cab) was one of the Grand Prix sponsors, so they asked if I would let them use my taxi for the race weekend. The kind of "ask" that only has one answer... yes.
I was put in a Crown Victoria Police Interceptor with a 4.6L 250-hp SEFI V8 with overhead cam engine. It had a big ole' push bar on the front making the hood seem about 12 feet long. It was a cool car but the driver's seat must have been holding up some big ass cop in its life as a police car, because it was broken beyond repair. No matter what pillow I tried, I could not get comfortable.
My next job should have been a simple one. My taxi permit, which is issued by the police, was due to expire on the 25th of July. To receive a new permit I would have to show an up-to-date drug test and an '06 business licence. I had neither. The drug tests are random and somehow I had not been called in to take one. I got the paperwork, drank a gallon of water and I was off to the lab. As for the business licence, City Hall had cashed the check that I had sent them a good month earlier but they couldn't seem to get the licence back to me.
By the 26th I was getting nervous because we only get a 3-day grace period to get the permit. So, I called Joe, one of our many managers, at the cab yard. Joe said that he would get back to me, and later that morning he called with instructions.
It was getting late in the afternoon, near evening, when I pulled the big Crown Vic. into a lot across the street from the address that I had been given. When I found the door with the number 7 on it, I knocked. I was about to give up when it opened a crack and a woman said, "Yes?". I said, "Joe sent me." The door opened and I was let in to a dimly lit hallway. As the woman walked away, she asked if I would like some water. Though a nice thought, I found it an odd gesture as I stood there in the hall of number 7. After a short while a man came walking towards me, holding his arms out in front of himself, and in his hands was an envelope. My business licence! He said, "Hot off the press." I thanked him for the favor.
Number 7 is where the city has documents printed. They must have quite a backlog if after a month I was still waiting for my little piece of paper. If I would have waited for it to show up in my mailbox there is no telling when I would have received it.
On Thursday the 27th Karl, another manager at the cab yard, called with the news that my drug test results had been faxed over to the yard. If I rushed over and picked up the paperwork (yes, I passed...enough to race in the Tour de France anyway) I would have just enough time to get across town to the SJPD, on W. Mission St., where they issued permits until 4:30pm.
I found a parking spot in front of the PD, which was so unlikely it was scary. It was 3:20pm when I was called up to the bulletproof window. I was explaining that I was there to get my taxi permit renewed and that I should have just enough time when the police woman behind the glass began shaking her head in a very doubtful way. She said, "Just a moment" before she walked over to the officer at the other window. After much discussion, she returned with... "Tomorrow. You can come back tomorrow."
Friday morning, the 28th, I was first in line at 8:15am for the promised 8:30am opening of the permit department. They must have all got stuck in traffic, because the officer behind the glass didn't call me in until 9:15.
Once back in the permit office, I handed the clerk all my paperwork and waited. She looked it all over and then started entering the data into her computer. Soon I heard the printer start up. Reams of paper began spitting out. My background is checked every time that I go in for renewal. So much paper on me. I have been married almost as many times as Elizabeth Taylor, so a small tree had to lose its life just for me. The clerk kept peering at me over the top of her glasses. I wanted to say that at least I didn't just shack up with them.
At 10:00 she asked me to stand on the red line, turn on the light switch behind me and look straight ahead. My new photo was now taken and being processed on to a badge. The clerk took the badge over to the counter and asked me to sign the back. At 10:15 on the last possible day to get my new permit, it was a done deal.
I turned it over and I couldn't believe my eyes. There must have been a mistake, the photo couldn't be me. It looked like someone that the PD had hauled in on a D.U.I.
Oh well, there is always next year.
I got my first computer early in the Summer of 2004, and began blogging almost immediately. Thanks to blogging I have been a part of several newspapers and online blogs. By that August I was featured in the lead story of the Tech Section in the San José Mercury News. Then what a pleasant surprise it was to find that my blog, "Taxi Vignettes" was the reason I was chosen as the best local blogger of the year (2006) by the Metro Newspaper. Fall of '06, I was contacted by a reporter, asking if I would be willing to be the topic of her next story in The Willow Glen Resident. It was a cool two pages including photos. Am I having fun yet?
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