Taxi Vignettes

This afternoon I was downtown parked in a freight loading zone waiting for my fare. It was a time call and I was there about fifteen minutes too early, and I was bored.

Section 10.48.030--Standing in freight curb loading zone: No person shall stop, stand, or park a vehicle for any purpose or length of time other than for the expeditious unloading and delivery or pick-up and loading of passengers or materials...So, I had one eye out for a particular Meter Maid who, shall we say, doesn't appreciate my creative parking.

I saw a row of those free-newspaper boxes, and figured I had time to get out of the cab and grab a couple. I was halfway through the "Metro" when I noticed a lady walking towards me, so I put it down on the seat next to me.

After I had dropped her off, I pulled over under a shade tree and resumed my reading. I was thumbing through the Metro when I noticed a section titled: The Best of Willow Glen.

Last night I got a call, in Willow Glen, for a young woman who needed to get up to SFO. Making small talk, I asked her if her trip would be for business or just for fun. She said that she had won a contest. She has been a fan of the group U2 for years, and had entered a contest to meet them in NYC for a book signing at Barnes & Noble. She was one of the lucky 250 fans chosen to attend. I could tell that she was still in shock as she was telling me about getting ready for the trip. She even gave up her Pilate class!

Though it was 7:30pm I was still worried about taking 101 up to the airport. This (U2-thing) being more important than some old business meeting, there was no way I wanted to be in anyway responsible for her missing the plane. So, I decided to take 280, and eat the difference in the taxi fare.

I hope that she is having the time of her life.

This morning the couple in the backseat were discussing what they were going to do when they arrived in Mexico. I tuned them out and listened to the dispatcher giving some driver heck about not wanting the call that he had been given.

We were still miles away from the airport, I was doing my best to maneuver through traffic safely, the dispatcher had gotten over his rant, and I began to tune back in to the couple's conversation.

The woman was asking her husband a question and his reply was, "What?". She then repeated the question. Every time she either asked a question or made a statement, his reply was the same thing. What-What-What. She acted as if this was a normal response. She didn't seem to be gritting her teeth or pulling her hair out, but I was.

It was driving me crazy. I thought just maybe if I asked her some questions, she would stop talking to Mr.What until we got to the airport. I asked things like, "Where are you and your husband going, and what is the weather like there?". We were on the airport grounds, but I still needed about three more minutes to get them to American Airlines. I hate to ask women if they work, because all women work, but I was running out of material. I asked, "Do you work?".

What happened next made me really glad this long strange trip was at its end. I had asked her the question about her working. She said that because her husband was a dentist she could afford to stay home. At first I just thought how nice for them. Then it hit me! Crikey, a dentist that couldn't hear. I started thinking about being in the chair with all that dental equipment in my mouth, and this guy asking me a question.

I heard, "Cabbie, Cabbie!". "What?". I had almost driven past American.

The man in the back seat of my taxi was so interesting to talk with I hated to see the trip come to an end. On the ride up to San Francisco airport we talked about his business, a shoe company, based in China. I asked a lot of questions about his life in Shanghai, air pollution, and the Internet. I asked if he felt the "freedom" when he was in California. After a long pause, "Yes, I do." He told me that everything that was sent on his computer, personal or at work, was filtered. I told him that my government, the U.S. Department of State, had paid a visit or two to my site. I didn't mind because they were just doing their job. I told him if I posted a story about the "Big Box" they would most likely pay me another visit. After he paid for the trip, he asked for my card saying, "On my next trip to America I will bring you some yellow Crocs." I hope he does 'cause I have been wanting some of those funny looking shoes.