Taxi Vignettes

Ken Pool

2009-09-15T05:30:00.000-07:00

Like Britney Spears, I'm Back

2009-01-21T22:41:00.000-08:00

I'm back to Taxi Vignettes. I'll start with my encounter with Santana!!!

A Christmas Play on Life

2008-02-19T08:03:00.000-08:00

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.

To me, Ella said, "Damned dirty oil, indeed."

SWIPE IT - SWIPE IT GOOD

2008-02-07T21:13:00.000-08:00

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

The Last Time

2007-11-10T20:23:00.000-08:00

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.

SFO - Need I Say More?

2007-11-02T23:35:00.000-07:00

Only an Earthquake

2007-10-31T19:13:00.000-07:00

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.

One Guy Got Hung Up

2007-10-01T20:33:00.000-07:00

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.

Lost

2007-08-31T17:52:00.000-07:00

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.

Beam Me Up

2007-08-20T09:04:00.000-07:00

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.

Blocked

2007-07-23T15:30:00.000-07:00

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.

As I turned the corner, I found myself behind a large group of mostly men dressed in jeans, boots, and their vests - They were wearing the "colors". I was blocked by the notorious outlaw motorcycle gang, "The Mongols". (In 2002, members of the Mongols and the Hells Angels MC had a confrontation in Laughlin, Nevada at the Harrah's Laughlin Casino, that left three bikers dead) I just sat there, motor running wondering what to do, for several minutes. I gave the horn the teeny-tiniest little toot. "Toot-Toot" - got me a few glares.

Then I noticed a biker standing to my left. He was taking pictures of his men, and of the cops. A flickr buddie in the making? Thinking we had something in common, "Can I take your photo?" He smiled and posed. From out of the crowd a woman yelled, "Ask him for his autograph!" and lots of laughter. I snapped the pic, and ventured, "What? The cops won't let you in the park?" Shaking his head, "Nope!" Me, "You could invite them to join you." While he was still smiling I told him that I did need to get back to work and I would really appreciate his help. Could he get them to scoot over just enough for me to get through?

With the help of my new found friend I made it without running over any toes, but I still wasn't in the clear. I still had to make it around the police barricade. There were now more cops standing at the cone studded intersection. They were so engrossed in their situation they seemed to look right through me.

I sat there lost in thought - Last May a 911 call brought the SJPD to the Vagabond Inn on North First Street. A man said to be disturbing the peace was also suspected of throwing a woman out of a window. The man was found standing in a room grunting and not wearing any clothes. In an attempt to temporarily incapacitate the struggling man he was shocked with a Taser gun. The man believed to be a member of the Mongols motorcycle gang was pronounced dead at the scene.

"Go! - Get out of here!", a big cop was yelling at me as he moved cones. Stupid guy. What did he think I was trying to do? I was already blocks away when more SJPD units flew past me rushing to the scene code-3. I had my radio on but heard no news reports then or later in the day, so I imagine there were no injuries.

The Mongols MC

wikipedia

That'll Teach 'Em

2007-07-16T14:39:00.000-07:00

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

The Wedding

2007-07-08T09:34:00.000-07:00

The time call was for 11:30pm, so I pulled up to the country club at 10:50pm. I had never been there before and I wasn't sure what to expect in the way of parking. Valet parking was set up and several young men were waiting to assist. A black limo had just pulled up and the driver was looking in the trunk. A huge charter bus was parked on one side so I found a spot to park along the curb to the other.

As I was checking out my cab to make sure the back seats looked clean and no debris had been left about on the floor, the limo driver was rolling out a red carpet. He then scattered it with red rose petals. He began to go through musical selections: At Last - by Etta James, and then . ... Can I just have one a more moondance with you, my love Can I just make some more romance with a-you, my love ...Moondance by Van Morrison, and several others. He finally settled on Moondance. Made me happy!

Guests began to come out and set the Valet-boys scurrying for cars. I heard it before I saw it...A really beautiful silver Porsche. The Valet got out, took one look at the owner and refused to give him the keys. They talked for a bit before the owner went back into the club.

It was getting close to 11:30 and the Limo driver was getting antsy. His impatience was becoming verbal, "I was to pick up at eleven!" The owner of the silver Porsche walked back out with his sober looking wife, as the Limo driver marched inside almost tripping over the red carpet.

The band was still playing and through the window I could see that guests were dancing. Standing there hearing the words to the song made me laugh. Who would choose this song to play at a wedding? "Love The One You're With!
...And if you cant be with the one you love
Love the one your with
Don't be angry
Don't be sad
Don't sit cryin' for good times you had
There's a girl right next to you
And she's waiting for something to do...Do it- Do it- Do it...

More guests appeared. Some doing a good job to remain standing, and some not so good. A few ending up in the bushes on their way to the charter bus. Giving one more useless look at his watch the Limo driver returned to stand by his car.

Around midnight someone must have given the signal because the driver reached into the car and the night was filled with...'Well, its a marvelous night for a moondance...' The bride came on to the rose strewn red carpet looking like a princes. She smiled and waved to her remaining guests, said a few words to her father and with her husbands help got into the limo. The now smiling driver gathered up his carpet and off they sped into the night.

The mother and father of the bride eventually came out to my cab. I didn't mind the long wait. They were generous with what was most likely the last of their bank account so I was paid well. To top it off I also made away with flowers. Score one for the cabbie.

iPhone Guy

2007-06-29T13:35:00.000-07:00

As my fare settled into the taxi he let out a long sigh of relief. I asked him, "Need to get away?" My question led to a story of work and worry.

He told me that his company supplies Apple with components for the new iPhone. Getting ready for today, June 29, had taken him many worrisome hours of conference calls and meetings with the Apple elite. Though exhausted he said with enthusiasm, "This is so big." When I asked if he had an iPhone he said, "No, I have to buy one like everyone else."

He was on his way to Atlantic City for a much needed break, and where he could find one (iPhone) at a small obscure Apple Store. I laughed at that notion - an obscure Apple Store!

I drove away from the airport with a greater appreciation of the work that went into the iPhone production. I also learned the number of available iPhones. Think, 'Tickle Me Elmo!'

Hello iPhone

One Last Call

2007-06-21T21:32:00.000-07:00

My busy day had been filled with nothing but predictable ho-hum runs to the airport, until I took that one last call...

I pulled up to the address as the door opened. A man and woman came out wearing what I guessed, correctly, were their dinner clothes. The gentleman was holding what looked to be several pieces of cardboard. They waved goodbye to the kids, who were bouncing up and down on a trampoline as the babysitter looked on. The dad said that they were going to Manresa, but first we needed to pick up another couple. Thus four well mannered upper class people going to one of the top restaurants in the world. This would be a profitable and civilized trip.

As their friends were getting into the taxi the man threw the cardboard over the back seat saying to the other guy, "We should wait until it gets dark."

In front of the restaurant I was asked if I would return for them at 10pm. The guys saying that they had some posters (the cardboard) to put up on the way home. Manresa is a lovely little restaurant praised around the world for its innovative menu. It must be outstanding because diners are reluctant to leave, or Chef David Kinch, is not one to be rushed. I knew in reality it would be much later than 10pm, but I had to see what they were planning to do with those posters.

A few minutes after 11:30 we were on our way to a neighborhood in Campbell. My passengers were feeling the drink that had accompanied their dinner, and searching for the illusive house that needed to be decked out in posters, was becoming comical. Suddenly one guy said, "This is it!" He asked me to pull around the corner. The other fellow thought for sure we were at the wrong house. I really hoped not.

As soon as I stopped the taxi the men burst out into the dark with the posters in hand. The women following just behind them, stepping gingerly through the flower beds in their high heeled pumps. Getting into the mood I was bringing up the rear with my camera. Nothing like a photo to document the deed.

From bits of their conversations I gathered that they had recently worked on a fundraiser for their children's school. Perhaps this was the home of the taskmaster who had rigorously driven them to inflict their poster revenge on him.

After posing for their Campbell Police most wanted photo, one guy ran up and knocked on the front door and then took off running for my taxi yelling, "Come on Joann - get us out of here!"

All was in fun - no harm done especially if it was done to the correct home.

Click It - Click It Good

2007-06-13T22:04:00.000-07:00

My blog, Taxi Vignettes, has been nominated for Best Blog About Stuff. I'd love to have your vote!

Just click the blogger's choice award button on the sidebar. I have just about run out of family members, so please sign-up and vote it is easy.

Why Don't You Open Up That Door? (let me in)

2007-06-11T21:33:00.000-07:00

Thanks to a heads-up from one of my flickr buddies, I heard that there would be a press conference at San José City Hall regarding the San José 2007 Grand Prix. Since my taxi is wrapped with an ad for the race I figured I should attend.

Not knowing that it was by invitation, I found the doors to the City Hall Rotunda locked. If you remember, I don't let locked doors stop me. I knocked on one of the side doors until a woman opened it just a crack. She said, "Yes?" I told her that I was a Yellow cab driver and could I come in? What she said next floored me, "Are you Joann?"

I am the only woman driving a wrapped billboard for the race, so I guess I shouldn't have been all that surprised that she guessed who I was. She gave me a press kit and I took a place behind the guys with the really big cameras.

Rahal

Graham Rahal, the youngest driver in Champ Car history to earn a podium finish, spoke with the media. The 18-year old graduated from High School last Tuesday.

I got a few photos, and talked with race officials about the possibility of, scoring a press pass for the race. Keeping my fingers crossed!

On The Road in San Jose

2007-06-07T19:07:00.000-07:00

Last night on ABC's American Inventor I saw contestant Steven J. Cousineau present his bike wheel covers to George Foreman and the other judges. This morning I was talking with him in San Jose.

Though the show turned down his invention he hasn't given up hope.

Check my post on Metroblogging San Jose

See him in action on YouTube

Lifestyles Of The Rich And Famous Spoiled

2007-06-07T00:30:00.000-07:00

The first call of the morning was in Willow Glen, where it is not uncommon to find a small 2 bedroom home, built in the first half of the 20th century, go for over $1,000,000.

The cute door of the million dollar cottage opened and bags began to appear on the front steps; then the door closed. I could tell that I would be the one expected to get all four bags into the cab.

The bags were all loaded when once again the door opened. Out came four casual, but well dressed women looking to be in their upper 40s. Each was holding a large colorful tote bag, big straw hat, and a small white cup of coffee.

Between yawning and complaining about the early hour (6:45am) the women giggled about going to Mexico the entire 20 minute ride to the airport.

Curbside in front of Frontier Air, they stood searching through their tote bags for the cab fare, as I dragged their luggage out of the back. They did eventually give me $30. Not bad considering it only ran $23.

The four, still giggling women, walked into the terminal. Wearing the straw hats, tote bags flung over their arms, and pulling their bags, they turned to wave a goodbye.

The coffee cups!!!

Sure enough, the silly rich and spoiled women had left them to spill on the floor.

My Taxi is Almost Full

2007-06-05T06:33:00.000-07:00

This morning I did a 4:45am pick up. By 5:45am I was a hundred dollars richer, so I figured while I was in Starbucks I might as well help out old Paul.

Along the side of the case it reads: At the end of the end--It's the start of a journey--To a much better place--And a much better place--Would have to be special--No reason to cry. On the day that I die--I'd like bells to be rung--And songs that were sung--To be hung out like blankets in...

memory almost full

I Can't Leave My Hat On

2007-06-05T00:29:00.000-07:00

As a taxi driver I must sometimes put on a different hat. My public personality shifts from ride to ride. I must be able to change my personae to identify with the passenger and the situation.

The call was at the Left Bank. A chic little place located at Santana Row. It is billed as an authentic Parisian-style brasserie, though I think the guys I picked up there were only interested in the bar. Santana Row has many topnotch restaurants, but the guys wanted to have dinner at Steamer's Grillhouse in Los Gatos.

Somehow seven, shall we say, happy guys managed to get themselves seat belted into my cab. This was the type of situation that called for me to don my party hat. As we were passing the Hotel Valencia the doorman came running toward me calling, "Can you pick up a fare?" My back windows are tinted so he couldn't see the gang inside. I yelled back, "No, only room for one more person, and it would have to be a woman!" I was trying to be silly for the guys, but it got a much better reaction than was warranted. Their howling was painful. The doorman looked aghast.

The meter was at $26.00 when we reached Steamers. I was handed two 20's and told, "Just keep it." Nice tip, but the nice tip required that I couldn't refuse their request to come back in a few hours.

When my wireless went off at 10pm it was time to put the taxi driver hat back on. I was more than happy when we got back to the Hotel Valencia. Each fellow tumbled out, but I was poised to keep them on their feet. As I nudged them at that same apprehensive doorman, they assured me they would be fine because they had rooms at the hotel.

I drove off with more than just another $40 in my pocket, I drove off feeling proud of my guys. They were loud, they were crude, but smart enough to take care of themselves. The boys were so good, I didn't even need to put my wife hat on.

Spearhead Sighting

2007-06-01T18:39:00.000-07:00

After I had helped my fare up to the curbside check-in at the San Francisco airport, I was walking back to the taxi when I spotted them. Them being music cases. The kind of cases that say, "real band."

The real band was Spearhead. I asked Michael Franti where their next performance would be, and he said that they were off to Asheville, North Carolina.

My photo does not show if he is wearing flip-flops or not, and I don't remember.

Driving cab does have its moments.

Michael Franti

Michael Franti & Spearhead(myspace)

Bands met while driving cab.

One night I was at SFO to do a pick up, and who should I run in to around 9:45pm? Tommy Lee! He and his bodyguard were up on the 5th floor parking level at United Airlines. He was talking to his driver about a club called "Crash" I was able to get two photos before they left. I wish I could have asked him about Supernova but I ran out of time.

When the Cab Driver is a Woman

2007-05-29T19:42:00.000-07:00

After reading a post on Cabhack Confessions* I thought back to a customer who liked to ride with Yellow Cab. I would try my best not to pick him up. I even heard that other drivers would suggest that he might prefer another cab company.

One afternoon he pulled a fast one. He was at a bar on the other side of town and I was the unlucky driver that got the call.

This guy was in a wheelchair and he was so plastered he couldn't turn his wheels. He asked if I could push him to the cab. Taxi drivers are instructed to give assistance to the handicapped, but I knew his game. I guess he had forgotten that we had been though this 'poor guy can't turn the wheels trick' when the cab driver is a woman routine. He would lean back so far so that his head would rest on the woman's chest.

I stood as far behind the chair as possible and I bent over with my head down. I managed to get the old f_rt home with my body untouched, but getting paid was not as easy. He would open his wallet, look at the money inside, and then close it back up.

After what should have been an easy call, taking up no more than 15-minutes, I found myself driving away a good 40-minutes later with only a $10 bill in my pocket. Reaffirming what all cabbies know: Drunks were put on earth to louse up our lives.

* Post on Cabhack Confessions

Memorial Day

2007-05-28T11:05:00.000-07:00

I am spending the day at home watching movies. The only thing related to the cab business might be to make sure that last week's taxi trip sheets are in order. I think I'll watch "The Yellow Cab Man" with Red Skelton.

My dad, a veteran of World War II, looked a bit like Red Skelton. My dad loved talking to people and he was a good driver. He would have enjoyed being a cab driver.

Her Meter is Running

2007-05-15T00:02:00.000-07:00

Melissa, a female Yellow Cab driver, better known as "New York Hack" has a book coming out August 28th. It can be pre-orderd at Random House or Amazon.

Driving a taxi takes a certain amount of guts. Being a lady cabbie in New York City must take it all and then some. I have enjoyed her blog and I am looking forward to her book.

Big Yellow Orange Taxi

2007-05-08T00:16:00.000-07:00

While my taxi was in for its yearly inspection I had the fun of driving what looked like a giant Reese's bar. Of course I had to buy one...it was yummy.

This morning I asked my passenger where she was going on her trip with her two very large bags. She was going up to Vancouver, Canada to visit her daughter. Her daughter had been shot in the leg. When I asked how that had happened, she said it all began when her daughter had first gotten married.

Her daughter was never alone with her new husband because her father-in-law moved in with them. When her daughter filed for divorce it wasn't her husband who was upset, it was the father-in-law. He came to her begging that she not leave 'him' all the while pointing a gun at her. She pushed the gun down, it went off hitting her leg, but she still managed to flee out of the house.

The police found a note stating that the 75 year old was going to shoot her, his son, and my taxi passenger too.

For some good news:
One of my blogroll buddies, Shavar, has a DVD that was just released. Picking up a copy of “Lord Help Us” is on my to do list.

Driver of the Year

2007-05-06T10:25:00.000-07:00

My first fare of the day took me up to San Francisco. After I let her out on 4th at Market Street, out came my camera. On this day the traffic was barely moving so I had many opportunities to take photos.

My second trip of the day started in Saratoga and ended at the San José airport. Somehow our conversation during the trip wound up on the subject of awards. The customer told me that he had a whole wall of plaques, but he was receiving one in June that he was really excited about. He then fell silent.

After a few minutes I said, "I'll tell you about my award if you tell me about yours." He said, "Oh sorry, I am getting something from the Pope." He proceeded to tell me most of the awesome details, and then asked about my award.

His was a tuff act to follow, but I let him know that he was riding with the taxi driver of the year for the state of California. He congratulated me, and I him.

I bet his award won't have a clock and say Made in China on the back - or will it?

Not Much Stress

2007-05-03T07:40:00.000-07:00

Will Sullivan, a reporter with US News & World Report working on a cover story for the magazine about traffic congestion, interviewed me about traffic and driving a cab in San José. His story, Road Warriors, is featured in the current issue. No, my interview was not part of his final story.

Yes, traffic can be bad here in the South Bay, but I think we know how to adjust to it. We all know traffic will be slow on 280/680, 101, 237, and 17/880 in the morning, and then again for the ride back home. We just deal with it.

Mr. Sullivan wanted to know if I got irritated when stuck in a long wait. I told him, "No, not really, only when I thought my passenger might miss a flight or some other appointment."

I do not mind the time on the road. Being held captive is not all that bad. There is no obligation to do anything but sit. I turn the radio to my favorite talk show or music. I have an iPod for heaven's sake! (plugs into the radio) It is a good time to do some uninterrupted thinking, and planing. Driving does not stress me all that much.

Anyway, my boring view of traffic congestion was left on the cutting room floor.

You Better Think

2007-04-24T19:01:00.000-07:00

John Wilder, over at Wilder By Far, tagged Taxi Vignettes with:

I'm not sure why I make Mr. Wilder ponder, but I guess any ponder is a good ponder.

My choices are . . .

Back Home Again

The Journey

CABLOG

The Pure Investor Blog

TUFFENUF

1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think.
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme.
3. Optional: Proudly display the ‘Thinking Blogger Award’ with a link to the post that you wrote.

I was going to add: Web Strategy by Jeremiah as he is on my Blogroll, but I thought he might object. Look anyway.

All-Purpose Glop

2007-04-23T21:04:00.000-07:00

I thought the taxi was all fixed. But nooo. With every start of the meter the new fuse would blow. The meter bone is connected to the toplight bone - Ah-ha! The taxi toplight was the problem. So they got rid of the wire to the light and so far, so good. I now have taillights.

But, I now have rain water dripping into the cab. It will be back to the cab yard for some 'all-purpose keep the rain out glop' under the toplight.

Or, I could trade it in for a donkey.

I may have my problems, but poor Rodney has it bad.

A Little Bitty Fuse Let Me Down

2007-04-17T15:12:00.000-07:00

When I have a pickup at SFO, being an out-of-town taxi, I make sure to follow all the rules. I never speed. The Hawaiian Air flight was landing early, but I was sure that I would be there in time.

I was in the left lane staying out of the way of the San Francisco cabbies, as they were coming into the airport in a blur. I noticed the Black & White parked on the side, watching us flow in. Suddenly he was behind me with his bright red lights twirling in my rear view.

What? Me? Was I impeding traffic with my poky driving? Did he see the race car stickers covering the cab. Would my violation read, 'Impersonating a Taxi' or something?

I sat there waiting, both hands on the top of the steering wheel, as the officer came up to my window. He was wearing blue jeans and a sweatshirt. Holding up his badge, "I'm a police officer." Somehow I gathered that when I saw the red light focused on me. He asked that I bring 'the paper work' back to his car. I dug out the registration, insurance card, business licence, and my drivers licence; then placed it all on the hood of his cruiser. And then I gave him a "Well?" look.

Pointing to the rear of the taxi he told me that the taillights were out. He called in my CDL, just to make sure I wasn't on the wanted list, as he was writing up a ticket. It was only a fix-it ticket and because I lease the cab, I would not have to sign for it or be responsible.

As we stood there, waiting to see if I came back clear on system computers, the officer gave me tips on getting my passenger back to San Jose safely. Micheal, the officer and by then almost a long time acquaintance, told me to tap the breaks if another vehicle came to close or warn other drivers by using the emergency flashers. Finally, officer Micheal let me get back to work.

It took just over an hour of nervous driving to get my fare home but I made it down 101, 85 and in to Los Gatos without being spotted by the CHP or local PD. I was relieved to park the cab for the night without another close encounters of the cop kind.

TAXI 911

2007-04-16T14:23:00.000-07:00

I was off duty, not logged on to the computer, when my phone rang. "Hello, this is Joann." It was the taxi dispatcher, "This is the dispatcher, are you sending me a code?" I was trying to figure out what he was asking me when one of the owners came on the line, "Are you alright, is there a problem?" I told him that I was on my way to Target to buy socks. Once he was sure that I was truly safe, he told me that the dispatcher's computer was flashing red indicating that I was in trouble. I would have to bring the cab in ASAP. So much for the socks.

At the cab yard all it took was a few minutes to located the problem. Somehow a couple of tangled wires had caused the alert.

Easter Taxi

2007-04-08T08:57:00.000-07:00

It is Easter and I have two calls (regular riders) to pick up! One at 11:45am and one at 2pm. No, they are not going to Churches or Easter Egg Hunts. Both are airport runs. What is wrong with these people? Ha-Ha!

Happy Easter, to you all.

Champ Car Grand Prix

2007-04-05T23:45:00.000-07:00

Third Annual

It is that time of year again for Champ Car. Actually the San Jose Grand Prix isn't until July 27th, but they like to get the word out early.

Year One

Year Two- with Sebastien Bourdais

technorati-tag

SEBASTIEN BOURDAIS

Grand Prix

Champ Car

Cheap Chick Cheep...

2007-03-27T21:21:00.000-07:00

The lady got in the cab. The nanny stood on the curb holding the little boy. His tears were just about to spill down his sad face. I have always loved little cars (I still have a shoebox full of Matchbox) and I usually have a toy in the taxi somewhere. That day I lost my Happy Meal robot.

Will the chick stay with me until Easter? When poked in the midsection it will chirp. If I felt the customer was too cheap and my tip wasn't big enough I could give it a squeeze. Cheep-Cheep-Cheep!

Not So E-Z

2007-03-23T11:59:00.000-07:00

David Louie interviewing inventor Ted Hoff

I received a request to cover an event at The Tech Museum for the History Channel and I was running late getting back into San José from San Francisco airport. When I did make it back there were no parking places left and it was only 11am. It is as though San José has been completely taken over with NCAA Tournament (March Madness) fans.

I gave up looking; took a chance and parked in the loading dock at The Tech. I put a big sign on the dash saying THE TECH and hoped my Yellow Cab would have an official there on business look.

Once inside The Tech I signed in on the Press Sheet just under David Louie of ABC-7 News. It said Joann Landers Metroblogging San José.

Almost two hours later I left the event with some good blog material and a T-Shirt.

Later that night at San Jose International Airport one of the airport cops asked me to take a man over to 1st Street so that he could find a motel. The man was Hispanic (spoke little English) and from Texas. If he would have just gone out to the taxi stand and gotten into any cab chances are good that he may not have received fair treatment.

I reminded the airport cop about March Madness and that there might not be any room available. After a few phone calls, the last room on 1st Street was found at the E-Z8 Motel.

I got $6.50 for my good deed, and Brownie Points from a cop.

It is Really Something

2007-03-18T14:13:00.000-07:00

It was only 4:15am so I had the radio on low. A little soft jazz and then some news. The news guy was warning about identity theft and the use of photocopiers. I mused mostly to myself, "... copy machines remember your information." The fare in the backseat came back with, "Yea, the coffee machine in the office programs single selections of coffee, it is really something. "All I could do was to agree that, "Yes, technology is something." After I dropped the guy at the airport, I drove home and went to sleep. I went back on the road when copy didn't sound like coffee.

Sometimes I miss low-tech.

Photocopiers Seen as Next Identity-Theft Weak Point

House on the Hill Update

2007-03-16T23:14:00.000-07:00

The the Flintstones House, near 280, is now Squash-Orange!!!

Was WHITE

Woz That?

2007-03-10T13:09:00.000-08:00

This afternoon my fare went up into the hills of Los Gatos. He said that he had a famous neighbor, and pointed out the home of Apple Computer co-founder Steve Wozniak.

I Didn't Want to Do It

2007-03-07T13:27:00.000-08:00

I go in to the the cab yard once a week to pay my gate. Today I also needed to pick up some paperwork because one of my permits and a business licence will expire soon. This means getting a copy of my last up to date drug test and other signed forms.

I hate this part of the job. I don't like forms and tests. Not to mention the cost and the drive across the valley. The whole thing makes me grumpy.

The way the new cab yard is set up, I generally don't get to see all the people in the office. Today on my out with the forms I passed by, Robin, the woman at the front desk. She said, "Hi" to me and asked if I had seen her baby? Baby? I knew it hadn't been that long since I had been in that part of the building. Baby turned out to be a cute little doggie named Ronnie. I didn't want to do it but that got to me, and I left smiling after all.

The Police are Back!

2007-03-06T06:35:00.000-08:00

Thanks to Taxi Vignettes and Metroblogging San José, of which I am an author I was able to snag a press pass for the Cinequest Film Festival in San José.

Saturday, March 3rd: The Press Conference at Hotel Montgomery.

One of my first challenges was to find parking. Not an easy task with so many people in town for the Film Festival, and who knew there was a cheerleader's convention or competition going on too.

I was about to think that I would have to park way out of town and hike in, or good grief call a cab, when I saw a City of San José lot that was still open. I pulled the ticket and drove around looking for a nice big spot. Ha! what a joke, there were no big spots left. Every little spot had some little car waiting with blinker on to pull in as soon as another little car pulled out.

I needed to check-in to the Press Conference by 1:00pm and time was passing quickly. Giving up, I was sitting by the exit gate when the lot supervisor came up to my taxi. He had been observing my hopeless attempts on a security camera. He walked in front of the cab gesturing for me to follow him. He pushed aside two sawhorse barricades and pointed to a nice big super size space. Hooray for a thoughtful city worker.

Once at the Hotel with just a flash of my pass, I was ushered upstairs to a small hospitality room. I was thankful for a paper cup of coffee and chance to sit down. I noticed a side shelf with at least six PCs for us, the press, to use. I sat looking at one wondering how to turn it on. I have a Mac at home, so I was lost. A Cinequest crew member came to my rescue. I was getting the hang of it when we were asked down to the Western Pacific room.

The press in San José seem to move as though they were bundled together with a rubber band like a bunch of celery. The bunch moved to the right of the room and sat. A few of the men broke away to man the cameras on tripods. The men that make up the press have on the perfect jacket, hair a bit too long, and hold up their camera to show that it is bigger than the others. The women of the press seem to be there more to impress the subject, rather than to cover the story. One woman reporter, when questioning Stewart Copeland, drummer of "The Police", would pop up to her feet. Mr.Copeland must have found this as irritating as I, because he told her that she could please stop. The woman reporter next to her made a big production of pushing her hair back and smiling.

I feel that I asked the most important question of Mr. Copeland. While I was seated, I asked why 'The Police" were not playing in San José, and, if they still might consider it? Stewart seemed to appreciate my question, saying that they would look in to it. Holding my pen to my little notebook, and leaving my hair alone, I asked if we could announce. Mr. Copeland, "let us book it first." The room filled with cheers.

I put up my post...the next morning I opened up the newspaper and not one story on the press conference, in the local paper, by the local press? Were they only there for the paper cup of coffee and the cantaloupe wedges?

Yesterday a lady in the taxi said that when her middle school age daughter saw "The Police" on the Grammy Awards ceremony she had said, "Mom that band is awful!"

Cinequest the Press Conference

Photos of Press Conference

technorati-tag
Stewart Copeland

What is the Holdup?

2007-03-01T22:26:00.000-08:00

After I dropped my fare at SFO this morning all I wanted was to get back to San José as fast as I could. I had errands to run, a house to tidy up, and a nap to take. But, on the last ramp away from the International Terminal all traffic came to a stop. I could see that a motorcycle cop was holding us there. People were getting out of their cars to look around, so I figured I might as well shut the cab off.

I was thinking about taking my nap right there when I spotted several big black SUVs and a long black Limo. They were down on the ramp leading to northbound 101.

I found out later that it may have been Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger who messed with my nap.

A Dark and Stormy Morning

2007-03-01T06:44:00.000-08:00

All that kept it from being a dark and stormy morning were the flashes of lightening. The mountains surrounding San José were topped with snow. We rarely get snow down on the valley floor, and then its only a tablespoon full, but I still had to drive slowly and keep a look out for Black Ice up on 280. It can be especially dangerous on bridges. Even though we don't get really severe weather it still makes driving cab more stressful.

It was dark on the street up in Los Gatos, and I could just barely make out the man standing on the front porch. Of course the rain was coming down in buckets. I offered to bring up my umbrella, but he said no thanks. He brought his bags down the steps and tossed them into the back of my van and hopped in the back seat.

I knew that my customer was Al Everest. He had just joined head coach Mike Nolan’s coaching staff as the special teams coordinator for the San Francisco 49ers. Mr. Everest needed to get back to New Orleans before moving his family out to California, so we were headed to the San José airport.

He told me that his dad, Andy, had been an assistant coach at Stanford back in the late 50's early 60's, and that they had lived in Palo Alto, but things had changed a lot in the Bay Area. I gave him as much information as I could about where they might like to live, taking into consideration school districts and commute time to and from the 49ers training camp in Santa Clara etc.

I asked him what his feeling were about the possibility that the 49ers might move their stadium to the Great America parking lot near the training camp if *Jed York can get it built. He seemed enthusiastic about it, but mostly he seemed excited to be back in Northern California and happy for the chance to be working with the team. At the airport he thanked me for the safe ride and I gave him my card.

Al Everest

*Jed York a young, 25-year old, member of the family that owns the 49ers is working hard to make the new stadium a reality, but there are some that don't seem to care for him. Dump York

technorati-tags Al Everest
San Francisco 49ers
Jed York

Life

2007-02-22T17:47:00.000-08:00

The man in the back of the cab asked me, "If you were on a deserted island and you could have only one album, what would you choose?" "Well, I like Miles Davis, Led Zeppelin, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Ottmar Liebert, Pavarotti, Brook Benton, and...so many more." I told him it would be difficult.

He listed some of his favorite music and he then began telling me about how he enjoyed some of the songs that had been his father's favorites. Frank Sinatra was one his dad would play over and over, and now he did too. My customer's thoughts began to drift to just memories of growing up and how his life had been with his father. Some good; some just sad. As we were pulling up to United Airlines at SFO, he blurted out, "My dad is dying."

After he paid me, I thanked him adding, "Just try to remember the good times." I drove away feeling gloomy sighing, "Life."

The next couple in the cab had big bags and a big Golden Retriever. They asked if I could get them to a hospital in Walnut Creek. Whoa! Walnut Creek was a good 50-miles away. I thought, "Good trip, and long enough to forget about the last trip."

The gentleman's phone rang, he talked for awhile, and then asked me how much longer it would take. After he hung up, I heard him tell his wife, "...getting to 5 centimeters." He told me that their first grandchild was about to come into the world.

On my way back to San José, I sighed, "Ah, Life."

OMG its ME

2007-02-18T00:04:00.000-08:00

TAXI

Why

Launch

2007-02-14T16:10:00.000-08:00

Today was the official launching of, drum roll please... Metroblogging San José.
For me it will be less about driving my taxi, and more about what's going on in San José and the cities that makeup Silicon Valley.

San José is the 53rd for Metroblogging, in this family of of city focused blogs. I'm sure there is one near you. Take a look see.

How Sweet it Is.

2007-02-14T08:03:00.000-08:00

Space Oddity/Different World (Story of Lust)

2007-02-08T15:49:00.000-08:00

As I sat in the early morning dark waiting for a call, I was listing to the news on KCBS. I like to hear the traffic reports and catch up on the sports scores from the previous day. I also like to know the weather report for the next few days. Many taxi fares seem to think my taxi is an information booth. They will ask me current event, and weather questions, not just for the Silicon Valley, but for everywhere from San Jose to New York City.

My first fare of the day was getting into the backseat just as an old news story, regarding the astronaut love triangle, was finishing up for the hundredth time.

I asked if it would be to the airport, and then I mumbled something about the woman astronaut's arrest. The customer, "What?" I said, "Boy, she sure lost it." Again the customer, "What?" I was really surprised to hear this guy was so out of the news loop. With my best descriptive prose he got the dirty details.

He was still in contact with an old high school friend who was now an astronaut. He was relived to find that she was not one of the players in this sorted tale.

Just a Thought

2007-02-05T04:22:00.000-08:00

I think everyone should go to college and get a degree and then spend six months as a bartender and six months as a cabdriver. Then they would really be educated.
-Al McGuire

Super Bowl Commercials

2007-02-04T15:30:00.000-08:00

I had the taxi out on the road by 4:15am this Sunday morning. This was not unusual because I tend to work 7 days a week. But...I'm taking this afternoon off to watch the Super Bowl. I like the commercials as much as the game.

The San Jose State University students didn't win the Chevrolet commercial competition, so it will be be interesting to see what made the winning 30-second ad so special.

Starstruck

2007-01-28T22:40:00.000-08:00

As a taxi driver I am often in the right place at the right time to meet famous people. On my BlogRoll are links to three fascinating people whose work takes them behind the scene.

One is linked to a past Taxi Vignettes post about the effort it took to get a young man named Kelly out of his Fraternity House. He is a San Jose State University student who, with his team, may just win the Chevy Super Bowl College Ad Challenge .

Then there is Madley.--this girl is having too much fun!

The blog that has kept me feeling like I was on a Hollywood set is by Mr. Shavar Ross.
While reading Shavar's blog I was able to share in the joys and the trials of film making. "Lord Help Us" I'd park my taxi to see this film!

Not Bad

2007-01-25T22:58:00.000-08:00

It started out as a rather slow and ordinary day. The calls consisted of taking people to the San Jose airport, to work, and to the doctor. One brave woman went in for heart surgery. All OK rides and nice people, but I still hadn't taken in enough money. Some days just never take off. I was on my way home to have a late lunch and maybe just stay there, when my phone rang. Forget the lunch--I'm going to Hollywood! Not really, but It was for a trip to another city. The lady went to downtown San Francisco thus saving my day.

One of the perks that comes with driving a taxi is the occasional celebrity or big shot sighting. Today it was a big shot.

My last fare of the day took us up into one of the of the most prestigious areas in the county, the Los Altos Hills. As we were climbing up a steep hill passing beautiful custom homes and mansions, I spotted a jogger. I made sure that I gave him plenty of space as I went by. My fare said, "Do you know who that was?" I didn't have a clue, and told her that I really didn't see his face. She said that the jogger was John Chambers one of Silicon Valleys biggest bosses. She said he must be one of her neighbors. She wasn't sure which home was his--yet.

I passed him on my way back down the hill, and this time gave him a good looking at. My first big shot jogger spotting: John Chambers, Chairman and CEO of Cisco Systems.

Turned out to be a good day after all.

John Chambers

A Lott of Gotta' Go

2007-01-20T00:16:00.000-08:00

In the 1980's the cab company needed help answering phones on Fridays, and one of the owners, Mrs Silva, asked if I would like to help out. Not really, but somehow she talked me in to it. Answering phones for the cab company back then was harder than driving one of their cabs.

All the work was done manually. We didn't have computers yet. The dispatcher sat behind a big magnetic board with a map of the city on it.  Each driver was represented by a numbered magnet. This was how the dispatcher would keep track of the drivers locations. In reality the dispatcher did not always know the drivers true position.  A cabby might say that he was in a certain zone, when in truth he might have been miles away.

As a "phone girl" I would often find myself caught between the dispatcher, drivers and the customer. When a customer would call for a taxi, we were instructed to tell them that they should expect the taxi in 15 or less minutes. 16 minutes later the call would come in inquiring the location of the taxi.

First getting the attention of a busy dispatcher was not all that easy. Then I would ask something like--where is #5 , and when will he be at 555 Main Street? The dispatcher would try and get an honest answer out of the driver, tell me, and then I would tell the customer. While all this was going on the other phone lines were ringing away, and drivers were on their mikes pleading for the dispatchers ear. For me it was mostly a guess when the taxi would show up.

This Friday shift was a hard 12 noon to 12 midnight. The last few hours leading up to midnight were hard on me. We would get calls from bar patrons that were intoxicated. When they were Mexican and drunk it got interesting. Knowing only a few words of Spanish, that were learned when my kids watched "Sesame Street",  I would try to at least get the name of the bar.

Friday would get exciting when Ronnie Lott, the the San Francisco 49er, would call Yellow Cab of San Jose for a taxi. He got used to the sound of my voice and would say, "Hello Joann" when I answered. One afternoon I asked him if he would like to hear the Ronnie Lott joke. I was only a bit concerned. If I made Ronnie mad, and lost my shift it would be no big deal. I would be happy to again drive on Fridays.

To set up the joke:
Pia Zadora a not so good actress who was lucky enough to marry a very wealthy man named, Meshulam Riklis.

Ronnie Lott, a San Francisco 49er who was lucky enough to not be married to Pia Zadora.

What I asked Ronnie Lott that Friday afternoon:
Mr.Lott if you were to marry Pia Zadora she would be Mrs.?  After much laughing---Mrs, Pia Lott.

He didn't get mad, but I soon asked to be relieved of the phone girl gig. I much preferred driving and meeting the customers.

Orange Ya Glad I Helped

2007-01-18T19:00:00.000-08:00

It has been cold here. Not cold like Oklahoma, but cold for us. Down in southern California they are even getting snow in Malibu! The California orange crop has been hit hard by the freeze.

I picked up a woman in the Los Altos Hills area who needed to get to SFO. The trip took a little longer than she was planning on because of the black ice on Highway 280. The Highway Patrol gave us an escort over some bridges that were covered with spots of the ice.

After I dropped my fare I decided to get back to San Jose by way of El Camino Real, just to avoid the ice on 280 and the traffic on 101.

I was near Stanford when my phone rang. It was an administrative secretary for a high tech company that often uses me to shuttle their employees to and from airports. Knowing this would involve some writing I pulled over in front of the University.

We had just finished scheduling a few rides when I noticed a man standing just outside my drivers side window. I put the window down just a few inches. "Yes?"

He asked if I could help him find Peninsula Hospital in Mt. View. I told him the only Peninsula Hospital that I was familiar with was Mills-Peninsula in Burlingame. He said, "No, no Mt. View." We had a bit of a language problem going on. My Spanish is as limited as was his English.

I asked why he needed to find a hospital. He held up a small 10 by 10 inch box. On a paper label were the words Eye & Tissue Transplant Bank, but no address or phone number. I asked if he had a phone with him. He shook his head back and forth. Okay, I would have to go ahead and use up some of my minutes and call someone.

To quote Winnie-the-Pooh, "Think, think, think." Who to call? He insisted on it being in Mt. View. I asked if we should call the people that he worked for, but that just seemed to scare him. So I started with the Mt. View operator. After around 10 minutes. and several dead end calls, I was getting nowhere and he was looking panicked. Things like eye tissue need to be delivered posthaste. When I was just about to give up, the next call I made was to a woman who said that yes they were expecting the package. I asked the address and nearest major cross street.

Did he have a map? "Si, Si." Yes, he did but it did not extend down to the South Bay. I got out my Thomas Guide and a piece of paper. When giving directions to the lost and unfamiliar I like to point out the names of the streets just before the destination, and the one just after in case they go too far.

He thanked me and went back to his white pickup truck. I waited as he pulled away. As he passed me I noticed that the truck bed was filled to the brim with bags of oranges. He would sell them on the street or he may have been delivering them to a market.

If the oranges were to arrive late, or if they were out in the sun too long it would not be the worst thing that could happen, but packages from a Transplant Bank need professional care. The guy did not seem unintelligent just unprepared.

Phone Call

2007-01-13T14:30:00.000-08:00

I have mentioned before that one of my regular riders is NFL referee Bill Leavy. Today he is officiating the Indianapolis at Baltimore game. I really wanted to get home to see the game but first I needed to pick up a few grocery items.

There I was in the check out line at the local Safeway market when my phone rang. I hadn't brought my appointment book in with me so I was a bit reluctant to answer. But... "Hello?" "Hi, Joann its Jim and I just wanted to let you know that Bill made a great call." Jim is another of my riders, and he thought I might be out working and that I was missing the game. What a guy.

Some of the hardcore football fans get quite a kick out of the fact that they ride in the same taxi as an NFL official.

technorati-tag
Bill Leavy
Baltimore Colts
Indianapolis Ravens

Juday, Juday, Juday--Cary Grant

2007-01-01T22:29:00.000-08:00

Grant

* I got a call on Cherry Av. for someone named Judy. After stowing her plastic tote with cleaning supplies and a mop & bucket in the back of the taxi, I asked her the 'where to?' to which she replied, "I'd like to go around the corner to Mildred Av." She asked me if I could wait for her. At first I thought she might drop the supplies off, and then we would actually go somewhere.

Turned out what she wanted me to do, with the meter running, was to sit in front of the house on Mildred Av. while she cleaned it! She said that she knew it was an odd request but she was afraid to be alone in a strange house, and what if a MAN came to the door while she was in there? She would need two hours.

With a $2.50 flag drop, another $2.50 to drive around the corner, $25.00 an hour waiting time, and $2.50 to make it back to Cherry Av, I would make around $60.00. Considering the trip would not burn up any gas I was OK with the job.

Armed with her tote-basket, bucket, mop and my cell number Judy went in the house on Mildred. She called me every 15 minutes just to ask how I was doing. I knew she was really checking to see if I was about to abandon her.

I have no idea what Judy made cleaning the house. I hope it was substantial, because I made $65.00 on the deal.

Judy called me one afternoon, "Are you busy?" This time my mission, should I choose to accept it would be to help her walk dogs. Again with meter running, we and the dogs went walking.

Judy would take a few taxi trips around the neighborhood, but never venturing too far from her comfort zone.

The woman Judy was living with passed away, and I haven't seen her around. I did hear from one of the local storekeepers that Judy may be living in the Almaden Valley. I hope 'Juday, Juday, Juday' is alright wherever she may be.

Look Who Met Me in 2006

2007-01-01T20:20:00.000-08:00

Sebastien Bourdais Race Car Driver

Tommy Lee Drummer.

Representative Honda and the hand of Randell Iwasaki Chief Deputy Director State of California Department of Transportation

Lonnie Jordan of WAR

Vice Mayor Cindy Chavez and U.S. House of Representatives Zoe Lofgren.

Chairman of the Democratic National Committee-Howard Dean.

Gov.Schwarzenegger and Pat Dando.

the"Chosen" Beer

2006-12-12T22:07:00.000-08:00

What is THAT beer doing under my tree?

This morning after dropping a fare at SJC, I passed by the new BevMo on Lincoln Avenue in Willow Glen. Noticing a Grand Opening banner on the storefront I wondered how the business was faring.

Any chain store opening in Willow Glen is met with trepidation. When Longs announced wanting to locate here alarms sounded throughout the village. Everything from too much traffic to shopping carts hanging out on every corner would be the ruin of us all. Longs is now a fixture and so far Willow Glen has suffered no curses.

BevMo went through much of the same. Overheard in the Glen the quivering voices--What will become of the wine shop up the Avenue?-- We already have a liquor store!--Dirty men will be sitting in the gutters tossing back little brown bags. Hide the children! Hide the dogs!

I parked my taxi and slipped into BevMo hoping that none of my local customers would spot me. Unfortunately the shop manager was not in, and the acting manager was unwilling to talk about their success or lack of it to me. She would only say that they were happy.

While there I thought I might as well pick up some beer for Christmas. What to choose? What would be more fitting than a beer labeled the "Chosen"--HE' BREW beer it is.

Willow Glen Extra

Shout Out Kelly

2006-12-09T11:07:00.000-08:00

Fraternity is a word for brotherhood, and by extension deep friendship or camaraderie-- social organization for male students of higher education.

I was a little sister for the worst fraternity in the school, that's now been condemned.
--Sandra Bullock

THE CALL:

5:30am pick up on 11th street at a Fraternity, the student would be standing curbside.

Proceed a few blocks away--pick up his college Professor.

Arrive SFO at approximately 6:30am.

WHAT HAPPENED: As Otis Day & The Knights would say: Well.........You know you make me want to (SHOUT)

5:30am--The young man, Kelly, who was to be standing curbside with his bags was nowhere to be seen. I got out and knocked on the big front door. Soon I was banging on the door. No one stirred. I went back to the taxi, and even though it was now 5:40am, I gave the horn a little toot. Nothing.

I had the phone number for the Professor, so I gave her a ring. She had been trying to reach Kelly with no results. She suggested that I come over and get her. We would then try again to wake someone in the house.

Back at the Fraternity House it was now almost 6am, and Ms. Professor was kicking on the door with her boot, and we were both shouting. I went around to the side of the building rapping on windows and doors as I went. Without divulging anything that could be used as evidence against me in court--I gained entry to the House.

With the clock ticking and the meter running, kicking beer cans out of my way, I walked the halls looking for life. I could see the flickering light of a TV under one door, but no one at that room would answer my call for help. Making my way back downstairs I could hear the Professor's steady kicking and hollering.

Her valiant efforts were beginning to take their toll on her. Her voice was giving out along with her patience. When I told her that I had been inside, I saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Where do I get in?" I told her her to go to the far back corner and look for a door propped open with phone books. Standing near my taxi, as a light came on up on the third floor, I could hear her demanding tone. After a few minutes she walked out of the front door, and announced that "he" would be out shortly.

With bags loaded, and both passengers in the back seat we were off. It was now 6:34am. I knew that it would be a miracle if they made their flight. I would need to step on it. Humming along at an easy 86 mph, they told me their story.

Along with other classmates from San Jose State University, the student, in my taxi. would be participating in something unbelievable. A contest that would open doors of opportunity.

The Miracle: Noticing the unmistakable roof line of the CHP, I put on my turn signal and moved to the right. I was relieved as the California Highway Patrol cruiser passed me with even more urgency than I.

They made the flight to their future.

CHEVY BLOG

Professor Blog

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All my bags are packed...

2006-11-22T18:41:00.002-08:00

I heard the A.C. Nielsen Co. estimates that the average American watches more than 4 hours of TV each day (or 28 hours/week, or 2 months of nonstop TV-watching per year). In a 65-year life, that person will have spent 9 years glued to the tube.

I meet many of my regular riders in baggage claim. I wonder how many years of my life I will spend at the airport waiting for their luggage to appear.

Many people are under the impression that I must make a lot of money during the Holidays. Though business is up some, so is the traffic, and other stress factors.

I am packing my bags for my trip tomorrow--a four hour drive up to Chico. My husband will do the driving--oh joy!

November 23rd
My nephew Mark thought that he would not make it to Chico for Thanksgiving--I made sure that he did.
Mark likes HEINZ with his turkey.

Not My Call

2006-11-07T22:19:00.000-08:00

I got a call today at O'Connor Hospital. As I drove up, I thought this guy was waiting for me. Turned out he was a dummy participating in a simulated emergency disaster drill.

Day in the Life

2006-11-03T20:06:00.000-08:00

I live in the Willow Glen neighborhood of central San Jose, California. It is located southwest of Downtown San Jose.

One of the local weekly newspapers is the Willow Glen Resident. The paper keeps me up to date on the shopping district, upcoming events, and my neighbors. I was contacted by reporter, Mayra Flores De Marcotte, asking if I would be willing to be the topic of her next story. We chose a day for her ride along in my taxi.

I picked up Mayra, and we were ready to hit the streets. I logged the taxi into Willow Glen, which is zone-210. We drove around the tree lined streets, while Mayra asked me questions.

The taxi's computer began to click--click--click, signaling a possible call, then it beeped. We had a call, but it was too far away from Willow Glen to go for. I hit the reject button, and we continued the interview.

Finally a call came in, close enough to take. The address was off of Pearl Ave. It looked like an apartment complex, but it was actually some type of care facility. I couldn't find the correct building number, so I had to get out and check with the office. I was told in very broken English--off of Branham, go in off of Branham. I have been driving cab long enough to know that was all the information I was likely to receive.

Back in the taxi, I told Mayra that we would have to backtrack, and find it somewhere off of Branham Lane. This call was taking much too long to locate, and I could feel the tightness starting to creep across my back. I had to guess which side street to take. Thankfully, I picked the one that brought us to some buildings in the same style, and color of those back off of Pearl Ave.

As we turned into a parking lot I saw a woman, holding a phone, waving at me. She had a man with her. She gave me an address, and a few instructions, for he spoke very little English. I asked her what was with the complex, why was it closed off down the center, forcing me to drive all the way around. She said that drivers looking for a shortcut would race through, so it was fenced off. Irritated as I was, I managed to get the man to his Doctor appointment in time. It was a decent paying trip, so it turned out okay.

I pulled into the nearest Starbucks on Blossom Hill Road. I told Mayra that I had a Starbucks gift card, given to me by one of my regular riders, that she could use to buy us coffee.

We sat zoned into 610, Los Gatos, talking and sipping our drinks. I was just about to suggest that we head back to Willow Glen when I heard the telling clicks and then the beep. The call, from Los Gatos Hospital, took us to downtown San Jose.

So far I had only booked $50. Not very good, but that is the taxi business. It is the luck of the draw and timing, mixed with gut feelings that make up a cabbies day. We headed off to the airport because I had a "personal" due in soon.

Having Mayra ride along was a mixed bag. Even though it was an interesting day, it was odd having the press taking down my words.

A few days later I got a call from the photographer, Vicky, could she ride along and take photos to accompany the story? Eek!!

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Run Larry Run

2006-11-01T21:45:00.000-08:00

My third call of the morning was for Willow Glen residents, Larry and Ivonne. While we were loading the bags into the taxi, I asked, "Where are you going?" Larry said,"I will be running in the New York City Marathon, and I will be running as a member of Team for Kids" I asked him to give me the link, so that I could check out what Team for Kids was about.

The race will be this coming Sunday, November 5th. If giving a contribution, please put in Larry's race number (#66230) so they will give him credit, and remember contributions are tax deductible.

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Old is New

2006-10-30T21:30:00.000-08:00

I was driving a lady home, to the foothills of Saratoga, when she asked me if I could use a rug. We were in a very upscale neighborhood, so I thought it would be worth a look. She said that she had a new rug coming, and she needed someone to take her old one away. She thought because my taxi was so big I could get it home.

This lady had a very nice Oriental rug that looked brand new, that had cost her $3,000, but she was tired of it--would I please take it? Now I have a very nice rug.

Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. And today? Today is a gift. That's why we call it the present.
Babatunde Olatunji

Dangerous Fool

2006-10-24T23:01:00.000-07:00

It had been an uneventful day, until the last job. It was a scheduled pick up at the airport coming in at 9:30pm.  My customers had asked that I wait for them at the Taxi Stand. Because I must park my taxi over to the side it is best for me to get out. As you can see in the video...

The Starter, who keeps the cabs and shuttle-vans in order, was busy helping people into the next taxi. So when a fellow came up to me and asked where he should go, I pointed out the Starter. The fellow then asked me if all the cabs would accept a voucher given to him by American Airlines. I said that they should.  Just then one of the taxi drivers coming in to the garage, stopped his van, came over, and started yelling at me.

He was going on about how I was trying to take fares that didn't belong to me. It wouldn't have been so horrible if he would have been a driver for another cab company, but  he was with Yellow!  I do not need to take fares from this jerk, or any other driver at the port.

The jerk must have had a bad day, so when he saw me--his male ego and empty pockets kicked in. In front of all the fares standing in the line, he must have looked a dangerous fool.

...or, am I the fool?

Anger dwells only in the bosom of fools.
Albert Einstein

You Can keep Your Hat On

2006-10-22T16:17:00.000-07:00

I received a call this morning from an Adobe employee who lives in Seattle, Washington. He said that he was hoping to make the 3pm Alaska flight. This guy loves wild hats, so when I saw the "hat" coming towards me I knew he had made it to San Jose.

There we stood at the baggage carousel waiting for his big orange duffel bag to appear, he in his hat, me in my bright yellow crocks-shoes, when I noticed one of the traffic cops walking through the door, and coming our way. I knew what he wanted, so before the cop could say a word I asked, "Are you coming to arrest me for disturbing the peace?" Trying not to smile or laugh the cop asked, "Are those the new official yellow cab shoes?" We all had a big ha-ha!

We were still at the baggage carousel when this little kid pushes his way in front of me. His dad pushing in directly behind him. Now this was not so funny. I hate it when parents let their young children get up close to the carousel. As each bag would come out the kid would try to grab it, as weary airport customers would gingerly try not to smack the kid in the face as they reached in for their luggage.

Travel tip # 1
Parents for the safety of your children, and the sanity of your fellow travelers please keep your cheeky little children back, and out of the way.

Sailboats and Surfers.

2006-10-21T23:54:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning I took regular rider, Mr. NFL Ref, to the airport. He will be working this Sunday’s game between the Kansas City Chiefs and the San Diego Chargers. Then it was a call from Willow Glen to the airport. Next, a good trip from Los Gatos to SFO, and then from the Holiday Inn, in Santa Clara, to Cupertino. By11:30am I was ready to take some time for myself.

I let my husband, Ken, drive me over the hill to Santa Cruz. We had a nice lunch out on the wharf. We sat at the bar, eating seafood, and looking out at the sailboats and surfers.

Busy Driving Taxi Cabs

2006-10-16T23:41:00.000-07:00

Too bad that all the people who really know how to run the country are busy driving taxi cabs and cutting hair.
-George Burns

I do give out my share of advice, but when it comes to my daughter, and her future, I will solicit the wisdom of my passengers. I was telling my fare how I had advised my daughter to study hard so that she would not end up working in the family business. Her dad and I both drive cab.

My fare told me that her very first job was working with her family. They had a dry cleaning business. She said that she was so bad with math that by the end of the day there was often extra money in the till, and their customers did not always go home with the same number of items that they had brought in. After two months, the unclaimed clothing was hers, and that eventually she had quite a wardrobe!

Amazingly they never lost a customer, but her mother had perplexed a holdup man so much that he did give up, and leave. He had come up to the counter with a gun, and not missing a beat her mother pointed out that she was running a dry cleaners; not a gun repair shop. When he explained why he was there she told him that he was welcome to go in the back, and dig the cash out of the toilet.

My fare said that growing up with her mother was like living with Gracie Allen. Once at a restaurant her mom asked the waiter to bring her the 'screwed chicken' misreading the menu which quite clearly had a dish called, skewered chicken.

My fare said that she did study hard, has her own successful business, and now other people clean her clothes.

Conclusion: If my daughter continues to study hard--someday she may have her own driver.

Quack

2006-10-11T09:42:00.000-07:00

On a previous post: "From Crocs to Crooks" I mentioned the possibility of a gift coming my way. I have them on.

The little tag on the shoes states: only original crocs use pccr, a revolutionary proprietary material ensuring the most comfortable foot experience on the planet.

They do look odd, kinda like the shoes you see people wearing after a foot operation, but they are worth the funny looks that they incur.

And, I have to resist the urge to, "Quack."

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Sometimes I Wonder

2006-10-09T05:57:00.000-07:00

The message on the in cab computer:
Did anyone pick up on e san antiono about a half hour ago she left her clothes in the cab

I hope someone had a coat or a blanket to loan her...

Sometimes I wonder what type of training our airport traffic & parking enforcement officers get. This morning around 5:15, as I was attempting to drop a fare off in front of Delta, I received some totally undeserved driving advise from an airport traffic cop. I have been driving cab for more years than this cop has probably been walking, and he is trying to tell ME how to park?

I have made it a point to get to know these guys enough to say, "Hi" to them in passing. But, I never saw this mornings' cop before--he must be new. The traffic cops that are seasoned know how to deal with cabs. They give us priority, and don't treat us as if we were stupid.

Now I have to get back out there and hope the rest of the day doesn't made me wonder.

Friday Moon

2006-10-06T20:24:00.000-07:00

Mr. Phien Nguyen is an employee at the San Jose airport. He runs travelers from the baggage claim area out to the taxis or terminal buses in his multi-seated golf cart.

This afternoon at the airport when I paused near his cart to say a brief hello, he asked me about the location of a local hotel. He knew that it was on 1st Street, but he was not sure of the cross street. Being the nosey person that I am, I asked what was happening at the hotel. Mr. Nguyen told me that he had been in the Vietnamese Air Force and that he and some of his buddies were getting together at the hotel tomorrow. Imagine the adventurous path that led him to San Jose.

My last trip of the day was from the airport out to Los Gatos. The fare including tip would net me around $40. As it turned out I got a bonus in the way of some new knowledge. Though the night sky was cloudy, it was still quite bright out. And then I noticed why. I pointed out to my fare how a big, bright full moon would occasionally pop out into view. My passenger, being Chinese, told me about "The Mid-Autumn Festival"

-- Chinese people can see the biggest mid-autumn moon in nine years at Friday night, Oct. 6th, the day of traditional Mid-Autumn Festival for Chinese, astronomical experts say.

Experts with the Astronomical Association of south China's Guangdong Province forecast that the fine mid-autumn moon will be seen at 10 p.m. Friday (Beijing Time), when the moon is nearest to the Earth.

The last time when the mid-autumn moon was nearest to the Earth was in 1997 and the next time will happen in 2015, according to the experts.

People in Guangzhou, the provincial capital, will see the moon rise up at 5:34 p.m. Friday, while those in north China cities such as Beijing and Tianjin will see it rise at 5:13 p.m.

But experts say that Chinese cannot see the most orbicular mid-autumn moon that will occur at 11:13 a.m. Saturday when it is daytime for China.

People in France, Spain, Algeria, Brazil and so on can see the most orbicular mid-autumn moon this year.

The Mid-Autumn Festival falls on the 15th day of August in Chinese lunar calendar. The Chinese take it as a day for family reunion. According to traditional customs, people eat moon-cakes and enjoy the beautiful moon on that evening.

Getaway Taxi

2006-10-02T20:29:00.000-07:00

I don't think Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker ever took a taxi to getaway from a crime, but today in San Jose some dumb guy did.

Witnesses told police that a man suspected to be a bank robber was seen getting into the back of a taxi. When the cab was spotted on Hwy-17 by the San Jose police it was pulled over. The suspect fled the taxi on foot, but was apprehended after a short chase.

I am glad that one more bad guy is out of commission, but I am not sure if I approve of the way in which his capture was handled. What thought, if any, was given to the safety of the cabby? Mightn't he have been held hostage when the taxi was pulled over?

You Have a Visitor

2006-09-30T12:25:00.000-07:00

This morning I picked up four people and a good number of big bags. The three women sat on the back seat and the gentleman rode shotgun. The women were engaged in lively conversation. The gentleman had his eyes closed.

We were nearing SFO when one of the women began talking about her three dogs. She was describing the breeds, the third being a Pit Bull. She told how much the patients in the hospitals and care homes enjoyed getting visits from herself and her dogs. One of the other women, "You take a Pit Bull into a hospital?"

The gentleman and I must have been in total brain sync, because we both burst into laughter at precisely the same moment. I was thinking about the panic I would be in if a Pit Bull came anywhere near me. And, if I was in an immobile situation like in a hospital bed...

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U2 Could be Lucky

2006-09-26T10:37:00.000-07:00

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.

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Best

2006-09-22T21:02:00.000-07:00

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.

Go on and guess who the best local blogger is.

BEST Local Blogger
Taxi Vignettes. Joannrides.blogspot.com. Joann Landers is a Willow Glen resident with an interesting job: she drives a taxicab. She is also an excellent gauge of personality, as her blog—Taxi Vignettes—details the sometimes oddball fares she picks up and the more surreal things that happen when you drive strangers for a living. A few who have dented her seat cushion are recognizable—Grand Prix winner Sebastian Bourdais, NFL referee Bill Leavy, Elizabeth Dole. Her digital camera captures other folks hanging around the airport: Tommy Lee, Bob Dole and DNC chairman Howard Dean. But good reading happens with just ordinary folk and her observations of the city from the dashboard. She lays out the swag that people leave as a gesture of kindness—red roses, Giants tickets, fresh eggs, gift cards and a bottle of holy water from Lourdes, France. She also gives insight on how never-ending "improvements" at Mineta affect travelers' impressions of the city. On the road for 23 years, this Yellow Cabbie has her eyes and ears to the street, catching people and the city from a prime vantage point.

In The Yard

2006-09-19T22:46:00.000-07:00

Taxi drivers are considered independent contractors, and we must pay the IRS estimated tax payments every few months. I had one due this month, so I have been working extra hours. It felt like all that I had been doing was driving or sleeping.

Around 6pm last Friday afternoon I attempted to start my taxi, but it was dead. Of course this was a hour after all the mechanics that work for Yellow Cab had gone home. I remembered that sometimes whacking the battery with a wrench will get it going again. It actually worked.

Yesterday there was a Ribbon Cutting Ceremony at the airport that I so wanted to attend. Lacking an invitation I had do some fast thinking, and talking.

Today at the taxi garage I told them about having to whack the battery, and that the cab was starting every time now, but I was still worried. After much discussion the consensus of the mechanics was to put in a new battery, and I think to ease my mind I also got a new starter.

While I was in the yard cab #670 came in. It has a sign on the back window. "Please Do Not Tailgate." with a smaller "Thank You!" underneath. Wouldn't it be fascinating to know what made the driver feel the need to go to these extremes?

(He would not tell me.)

What?

2006-09-10T20:50:00.000-07:00

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.

iSwap

2006-09-09T00:31:00.000-07:00

There are so many rules for Football. Some old: If the quarterbacks arm is hit before forward motion had begun, he then would have been throwing what is called an "empty hand." And some new: NFL Rule changes for 2006.

This morning I gave, my personal, NFL-Ref a ride to the airport. He said that they, the refs, were going to go over the rules one more time.

My next taxi fare was a young man traveling east. He said that he would see the September 10th Philadelphia Eagles game. He had been working on a project that involved Apple, and he needed some rest and relaxation.

He seemed to enjoy that I knew a real NFL-Ref, and that I had given cab rides to some famous players. Then there were my yesteryear tales of the Raiders, back when John Madden was coach. I explained to him who the actor James Garner was, and how Mr. Garner would be allowed to sit on the Oakland bench with the players. My fare said, " Oh wow! I would love to be down on the field."

We talked about the possible Apple press event on September 12th, and I said, "That is where I would like to be." He said that he could have gone, but he had chosen football instead. We agreed that it was too bad, that we couldn't swap places.

Note: I have inside information. As in the information that I hear inside my taxi, but I can't tell.

An iPod that didn't have so many wires, or no wires would be nice though.

From Crocs to Crooks

2006-09-04T14:30:00.000-07:00

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.

The Big Box Story:

Back in the late 80's, when I had neither a pager or a phone with me, my taxi dispatcher told me to go to the airport, and then give him a call. I drove straight to the red phone booth on Airport Blvd. I called Gordon, the dispatcher, and he gave me the number to call. He said that it was a special request from a government agency, and not to screw it up.

I called the number, and a man answered. I told him that I was a taxi driver and that I had been asked to call him.  The man asked me my full name and then he wanted to know a few other things. First he asked about my nationality. The man wanted to know if I was an American citizen, and had my grandparents migrated here from another country. I told him that yes I was an American, and that my ancestors originated from Holland and Germany. I came from a long line of *Mennonites if that helped.  He also wanted to know if I could lift 99-pounds, and could I get a box that heavy into my cab without help.  After I must have answered all of his questions correctly, he ordered me to swear that I was a loyal American. I was beginning to wonder if I was on Candid Camera Phone Booth-Radio or something.

The man on the phone had given me a freight tracking number with instructions to go not to baggage claim, but to the ticket counter at American Airlines. Once I had secured the package I was to take it to an address, and then to only give it to a specific person.

I gave the woman at the American counter the number, but she was hesitant to give me the box. I asked if I had given her the correct number, and she nodded a suspicious little yes. I could tell that I would have to take control, and  look like I meant business. I think I told her something about being asked to rush the delivery. I most likely added that the taxi meter was running. I like to say that whenever thing are moving too slowly.
I think she finally understood that I was not going away, and released the box.

I now had the box, but it was not that easy to deal with. It was a long rectangular shape, with nothing to grab on to. It sure seemed heavier than the quoted 99-pounds. I just bent down and started pushing it across the floor. Making a very loud scrapping noise, I managed the thing out to the cab.

I had to give the door a good shove to make it close, but somehow there it was in the backseat of the taxi. I got in and sat behind the wheel, trying to catch my breath, when the dispatcher started calling my number. "Number 18!, number 18!" (I was #18 back then.) He needed my status. What I wanted to tell him was that my status was mad and exhausted, but I said that I was just about to take off from the port. He emphasized that "people" were getting anxious. Well, La de da. blah de da, I was doing the best that I could.

The destination for this precious delivery was not even ten miles from the airport. Even adding on the waiting time at the American ticket counter, and the time it took to push it across the lobby and across the street to the taxi, I was not going to make any money on this sorry job. "Number 18!?" -- "Yes, this is 18?" -- "They want to know how you are doing, what is your E.T.A.?" Good grief, I was on the street. Me, "I'm here."

I was in an industrial area with those long strips of connected buildings. The kind where you would find an auto repair shop next to a home window glass shop. I located the building number that I needed, knocked and went in.

Inside the door was an empty room, but I could see that it opened into another room where three men in white dress shirts, solid ties and black slacks stood staring at me. The most outstanding thing about their attire was their very shinny black shoes.
They looked uncomfortable as though I had accidentally stumbled in on a secret.

One man asked if they could help me. I let them know that I was a cab driver and I had their box. They stopped staring at me and looked blankly at each other. I was thinking that something wasn't adding up. Someone, somewhere was in a panic to get the box, but the guys at this end were perplexed.  I gave them the name of the man that was to receive the box, and that seemed to do the trick. Now they were smiling like little boys coming down the stairs on Christmas morning expecting that Red Ryder BB rifle. One guy asked, "Where is it?"

Remembering that I was only to give the box to a certain person, a person not there, I said that I wasn't too sure about leaving it with them. Silence, and more silence until one of the men flashed me a disarming smile. He came close and told me it would be alright because he was authorized to sign for it. Alright already, but I told him that I would need to see some identification. He handed me his card. It was the, insert any foul word here, **IRS--Criminal Investigation Division.

The guy again, "Where is it?" I told them that the box was out locked up in the taxi, and that it was heavy. One moment they were in the room, and out by the cab in a flash the next. The box was brought in and put in on the desk, looked at it, and then ripped open like wolves over a kill.

I stood there, holding the paperwork waiting for the signature, when contents of the box were exposed. A warning message, from the eyes of a cabbie, do not ever cross the Criminal Investigation Division of the IRS, they have some awesome machine guns.

*Mennonite a faith movement that began in Europe in the 16th Century

** The IRS is the US government agency responsible for tax collection and tax law enforcement.

The Unexpected

2006-08-31T07:38:00.000-07:00

One day last week I was at the San Francisco Airport (SFO) standing at the bottom of the escalator, with the limo drivers, waiting for my customer to come down. To my left was a bank of pay phones, where I happened to notice a day planner. It was on the little table under a phone.

Five minutes later I am still waiting and the planner is too. I can't just leave anything alone. I picked it up and inside the front cover was a name, Phillip...the 2nd. It looked as though he lived back east. Then I noticed an address in San Francisco for a Phillip...the 1st. and a local phone number.

Ring, ring, ring, "Hello?"-- "Hi, my name is Joann, and I'm a Yellow Cab driver from San Jose. I'm up here at SFO, and I found this day planner book. It seems to belong to a Phillip". Guy on the phone, "That must be my dad's book. They are at the airport to pick him up..." I told guy on the phone if I knew where lost and found was I could leave it there, but there wasn't even anyone at the information booth besides I needed to stay put, I was expecting my taxi fare at any moment.

This little book had a lot of info in it. There were appointments for future dates, and notes on previous meetings, a long list of contact names, and even what size clothing people wore, dates like Birthdays and just too much stuff to do without.

I said, "What if I mail it to him, or could I mail it to you in San Francisco?" Him, "Yes, that would be great, let me give you my address.." Me, "If you are one of the Phillips and you live on 27th Ave, I think this is you in the book." He asked for my phone number just in case they needed to get in contact with me.

The next day I got over to my neighborhood post office. It is next to the station where I buy my gas, so it wasn't like I needed to go out of my way. I picked out a mailer bag and got in the line. I was probably only in there a few minutes and the grand total to mail the book was $3.94.

Over at the station pumping gas, I felt happy that I could do this small favor for a stranger. If I ever lost my "book" I would be in a panic. I run a good number of personals and it would be a mess if I had to try and remember just who was going to need a ride and when.

Yesterday, I was 160-miles from San Jose up in Yuba City. I had just let my passenger out, in the Sam's Club parking lot, in the care of her daughter-in-law. They then continue on up into the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountain range to the ranch. I was driving around looking for an interesting place to get out of the taxi for awhile before heading back to the Bay Area, when my phone rang.

On the phone was a young sounding guy who said that he had a flower basket for me and he would need a signature.-- Well, I was up above Sacramento so could he leave it at the door? He said that he was told not to do that, and he didn't want any trouble from the shop. I was about to tell him to hang up and I would call my daughter to see if she would wake up long enough to sign when he said, "Your daughter is here and she will sign."

This lovely arrangement was an unexpected pleasure.
The card reads, Joann- - Thank you for returning the calendar - Phil

Fresh Eggs

2006-08-22T22:18:00.000-07:00

This morning, I got a call at a house up in the hills of Los Gatos. The house is situated on hill leading down to a creek. I had to walk up and down steps with their bags enough times to get me out of breath. Finlay finished, I was resting down at the bottom when I spotted a pen of chickens.

Then I heard, "Cabbie, Cabbie?" Me, "Yes?" She asked me to come into the kitchen. I was flabbergasted. It was one of the most beautiful kitchens that I had ever seen. This lady was standing in front of her refrigerator; all the doors flung open, and on the floor was a big grocery bag. She was saying, "Will last, won't last. The "won't last" going into the bag. "You will want these eggs--from the chickens, ya know." What she had done was to give me a few things that might spoil before they returned home.

We were walking up the steps to the taxi when she sighed and said to her husband, "I'm getting to old for these steps." He agreed with her. As they were getting in I suggested that they could buy the house next door. It was on level ground and had a for sale sign.

The Husband, "That house belongs to Thomas Kinkade. His mother lived there." I said that I was sorry." He said, "Oh no, she is fine. Mr.Kinkade bought her a new home up the road." Then the lady said that Thomas Kinkade lived close to them too.

I have fresh eggs from the neighborhood of Kinkade. Life is good for the cabbie.

Hope You Guess My Name

2006-08-18T15:31:00.000-07:00

I was out of the house this morning before the newspaper hit the front porch. By noon I had driven over 260 miles, and I had cleared over $280.00 and a bottle of holy water.

A woman in my taxi this morning said, "Holy water!" I said, "Holy what?" The lady, "Holy water, Holy water. I have my holy water in my purse, and I can't take it on the plane."

I offered to take it back to her place and put it on her porch, but she said no. She, "I would rather you just keep it." I was told that the water came from Lourdes France , and that it was not only pure, but that it had also been blessed. I told her that I was not a Catholic. She said, "That's okay." Then laughing, "If you get lucifer for a passenger, throw a little of the water at him."

Lourdes, like Madonna's baby.

And she says - take me away
Then take me farther
Surround me now,
And hold - hold - hold me
And she says
Take me away
Then take me farther
Surround me now,
And hold - hold - hold me like holy water
Like holy water, like holy water, like holy water ...by Big & Rich

You need to see what Wil is doing over at Hawaii-Metblogs!

Guard Me

2006-08-15T21:29:00.000-07:00

This morning the California National Guard was deployed to the Norman Y. (why) Mineta San Jose International Airport. Let us just call it SJC.

I was present at the press conference this morning announcing their arrival. (I crashed it.) I stood there listening to the bad questions presented by the "real' press. I so wanted to put my 2-cents in, but I may have become the news.

Many of the people that I pick up at SJC tell me that they board aircraft with items that are banned. Someone is not doing their job. I Hope the Guard can help with this.

Later in the day: The man in the blue shirt (top photo...man to the left) came over to me. He asked me what I thought I was doing taking photos. I pointed out the news man with the really big camera to our right who was taking more photos and over a larger area than I was. Mr. Blue Shirt told me that the press had been briefed on airport protocol.

I told him that I was only taking shots of what was visible to everyone passing by. And I gave him my MetroBlogging card. He looked at it hard then he flipped it over to inspect the back. Nothing on the back, Jack.

I'm not sure if he was done with me or not because just then I had a fare.

Good-by, Mr.Blue Shirt guy.

When I had the chance, I called my contact at SJC and told him that I had been hassled by an airport employee. Everyone should have a "contact."

So there, Mr. Blue Shirt I have consent, permission, the Airports blessing to take my photos.

Note: I really did have permission to snap away.

Mr. Howard Dean, Chairman of the Democratic National Committee, posed for me at SJC. No one objected.

Code Red- Heathrow to SFO

2006-08-12T10:12:00.000-07:00

The other morning, I got a call from the wife of one of my regular riders. Her husband, David, was at Heathrow Airport in London and very anxious to get home. He was booked on Virgin Air #19, due to arrive in San Francisco -SFO at 1:50pm. She said, "Could you please bring him home?" As she gave me the details, she sounded near hysterics. I told her not to worry if he managed to board the plane I would get him home to her.

David walked out of customs at 8pm, 6-hours late, with his bags and a see through plastic bag. In the plastic bag only his wallet and his passport. His computer, his most valuable possession, was padded among his clothes in his suitcase..

He smiled when he saw me, a familiar face- - a face that represented safety, someone who was there to greet him and take him home.

David said that he did not wish to ever get that close to a terrorist situation again. He seemed unnerved; almost in shock. He said that he had been awake for so long he felt unhinged. I recommend that he not turn on the TV or the radio news, and that he should let it all go for awhile and get some rest.

For the hour trip to Los Gatos, I put some nice smooth jazz on in the taxi--my passenger soon fell asleep.

A Job With a View/Palo Alto

2006-08-09T20:50:00.000-07:00

One of the best things about my job, is the view. I'm not stifling in a little cubical wishing that it had a window. I'm not in an office looking out at the same composition day in and day out. From my taxi I am able to experience an ever changing canvass.

Though I am based in San Jose, my taxi fares will often take me miles away. One afternoon, on my way back, I decided to leave Highway 280 and look for "The Garage." I took the off ramp for Sand Hill Rd. and then down to El Camino Real. I pulled over in the city of Palo Alto and looked up the 300 block of Addison Ave.

The garage that I was looking for, located at 367 Addison Avenue, may be considered the birthplace of one of the first high-tech firms. In the 1930's Bill Hewlett and Dave Packard, Stanford University classmates, began working in this rented garage and in 1939, with the flip of a coin, Hewlett-Packard was in business.

The property is located in a residential neighborhood and "The Garage" is not open to the public. I took discreet photos from the sidewalk.

Today one of my customers told me an interesting fact about San Jose, California.

Excruciating

2006-08-06T20:30:00.000-07:00

SEBASTIEN BOURDAIS, race driver, and MY TAXI

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.

Hot Stuff

2006-07-23T12:37:00.000-07:00

It has been way too hot for too many days. The San Francisco Bay Area, of California, is not known for prolonged heat waves. They usually only last a few days until the fog rolls in along the coast. The cool air then moves inland to the San Jose area. It is not happening. Many homes and businesses have lost their power but so far ours has remained on.

I run the air in the taxi while I am moving but I can't be on the move all the time. With the cost of gas I can't even cruise around town looking for flags. I try to do as many calls in the morning and early afternoon as possible then head home for the late afternoon. It is nice to go in, turn on the air conditioner, have a big glass of lemon ice tea and watch TV. I have been enjoying a DVD my brother let me borrow. It is 9 episodes of the old Dick Cavett Show from 1969-1974 featuring interviews and songs from performers including David Bowie, David Crosby, George Harrison, Jefferson Airplane, and my favorite Janis Joplin.

Speaking of hot, a USA State Department worker, Jason Giuliani, is in hot water after he ran his government car into a taxi. Speeding and drunk he ran a red light. He was not hurt but the poor New York cabbie was taken to Bellevue Hospital and is listed in stable condition.

Best Worst Day

2006-07-19T20:46:00.000-07:00

Today had so many ups and downs my head is still spinning. To start things off, my first customer gave, yes gave, me four SF Giants tickets.

Yesterday we had record breaking temps of over 100° F. and of course my blower fan, for the air conditioner, went out so my next job was to get to the taxi garage. One would think I would be happy to have one of the mechanics, Ricky, fix the fan so that I could get myself back on the road. Oh no, not me. I had to open my mouth and start listing all of the other things that were wrong. It really doesn't matter that water gets on the inside of the windshield. It doesn't rain in California in the summer.

I was told that they would have to keep the cab for a couple of days and that I should take another cab. Easier said than done. I had the choice of cab 206 or 213. Cab 213 wouldn't start so that left 206. After locating the key I grabbed all my stuff out of my cab and threw it into the rear of 206, and with the tablespoon of gas in the tank, I was off to the car wash. The car wash coupon was in the back of the cab so I pulled over to get it. The rear door of the van would not open. Great. There I was, dirty cab, no gas, all my stuff locked in the rear.

Back at the yard, they tried the very same things that I had. Nothing was going to convince the taxi to give up my stuff, and the mechanics seemed at a complete loss. Then hope came in the form of Moises, a truly magical mechanic. He said that he would look at it.

By then I was fed up with the whole mess so I walked to the taxi office. I needed to let one of the managers know that my taxi was missing a very important sticker. The one that is needed to pick up at the airport. He said he would take care of it. I was about to go check on 206 when I heard my name called by another manager. (We have managers to manage the managers.)

Because I had agreed to have race advertising put all over my taxi I left the office with an arm full of free t-shirts and tickets for the up coming Grand Prix race. Meanwhile back in the garage, like a crime scene investigator, Moises was holding up a piece of metal. He said, "All fixed." He had pulled the bit out of the cigarette lighter and now the rear door would work. Really?

At 5:30pm I picked up one of my regular riders and she asked, "So, how was your day?" As I put the loaner cab into park at every stop light to calm the vibrations and quiet the engine noise, I told her. At her home she paid me the usual $13 and then reached into her purse and then handed me an iTunes card good for $15 saying, "Go home and relax."

At home I did turn on my computer. In my gmail, an offer for free tickets to a play.

This has been one of my best worst days so far.

The Sane Driver

2006-07-16T05:24:00.000-07:00

"I ride around nights mostly. Subways, buses. See things. Figur'd I might as well get paid for it."--

Fantasy Life
To mark its 30th anniversary Martin Scorsese's masterpiece "Taxi Driver" is being re-released. Concidering that it is among the top 100 movies ever made now would be a good time to get back in the cab with Travis.

Real Life
Sunday, July 16, 2006 From the Australian Broadcasting Corporation: Police say they are continuing their enquiries into a sexual assault allegation against another Adelaide taxi driver. Police interviewed a 63-year-old driver from the city's western suburbs yesterday. A 38-year-old woman complained to police that she was indecently assaulted while she was travelling in a taxi from Largs Bay to Semaphore on Friday night. It is the fifth sexual assault allegation against a taxi driver in the past few weeks. One driver has been charged in relation to an alleged incident last month.

My Life
Last night I went into the airport to pick up a personal. Once again I had to deal with a shuttle van guy that didn't seem to get the concept of parking in a space. There are only 3 spaces for "prearranged" taxis and/or shuttles and he was taking up two of them and a taxi was in the one that was left. This meant that I had to just sit until one of them came back and moved. This was not something I needed at the end of a long day. The parking-challenged shuttle driver finally loaded up and left. Sometimes, Travis, it is hard to remain a sane driver.

Pondered Life
As I was standing near the taxi booth, waiting for my fare, a man approached looking for a taxi that could take him to the San Francisco Airport. Sticking out of his shirt pocket was an airline's ground transportation voucher. Cabbies can spot these highly coveted vouchers from yards away.

The cab driver who was first up in line got out of his taxi. He was expecting to load this fellow and receive the voucher. The fare hesitated, turned to the taxi starter and asked, "Don't you have a Prius?"

The taxi starter told the customer that, "Yes", there were a few Prius taxis but at that moment one was not available. The guy began mumbling about how we went to war to get gas and now the price is sky-high...etc. After what must have seemed an eternity for the first up cabbie, the guy begrudgingly got in.

As they drove off, I was left pondering the customers dilemma. The guy shows up at the San Jose Airport ready to fly but for some reason he is given a voucher to catch a flight out of SFO. The most fuel efficient airplane that he might be on would burn about 800 gallons of gas an hour and a Boeing 757, would burn 50 percent more. He now needs to travel about 40-miles by cab and for the trip he wants to save gas by using a Prius. With none checked into the airport he stood there in a fix. What was going through his mind? Was he considering walking?

How Much is Too Much?

2006-07-09T08:57:00.000-07:00

When vacationing in Hawaii, or some other tropical paradise, how much do you really need to bring with you?

Travel Tip #1: Not Much.

Hawaii has a tropical climate. The temperatures vary only about 10 degrees. If you are visiting the windward side of the islands you will see some rain so plan accordingly. Evenings can be cool especially if there is a breeze. Be sure to bring a sweater or light jacket. If you plan to explore the higher elevations such as Haleakala or Mauna Kea, you may wish to bring a warm sweater and windbreaker also. Temperatures at the summits can drop to the low 30’s. Swimsuits are a must as are shorts, short-sleeved shirts, light dresses, sandals, thongs ( the shoe type) and some good walking shoes. If you plan on riding horseback, be sure to bring some jeans and heavy shoes. Men: There is no real need for a suit in Hawaii. Even at most fancy restaurants and night spots a nice shirt and pair of khaki’s or Dockers will do just fine. A sports jacket is only needed at the most upscale restaurants.

Last night at the San Francisco Airport, my passengers (they were returning from Hawaii) and I were up on parking level 5 with two carts stacked high with three large bags, two large duffel bags, two small bags and little carry-on stuff and a computer bag. As I was starting to open up the back of the taxi, and wondering how all this sh-t was going to fit, the woman says, "Is that Tommy Lee?"

Oh Yes, and always take your camera, you might see
Tommy Lee

The Moment

2006-07-07T21:34:00.000-07:00

It was one of those moments. The kind of moment life throws you. A moment that comes out of the blue and makes you wish that life had a back-last button.

To keep track of my daily taxi fares and to make appointments for my regular riders, I keep a book. I saw one that I really liked. So needing a break and a new book I pulled into the Target on Colman Ave.

I found a parking spot up near the front of the store. At the time I thought this was a lucky break. Looking back, I now know this was actually the beginning of my "moment".

As I was about to enter Target, I noticed two store employees and a woman attempting to get a table and four lawn chairs into a white car. I could tell with just a brief glance that there was no way the furniture would fit.

Evidently the woman had seen me come in with my taxi-van because she said, "Excuse me are you the driver?" and without waiting for me to respond she said, "Do you think this stuff would fit in your taxi?"

Two of the chairs were already in the trunk of her car so she asked the men to put the table top and the other two chairs in the back of my cab. They moved slowly and reluctantly. The woman said to follow her but I asked her for directions and gave her my card in case we got separated.

The woman's white car had numbers on the side of the front fender and the plates were government issue. I found myself going slightly over the speed limit as I tried to keep up with her. She was a good driver in spite of her speed. I thought, this lady might be a cop.

Now several miles out of San Jose and in another city she came to a stop in front of a early 1960's tract home. I pulled to the curb and got out. She yelled over shoulder, "I'll be right back!" She was opening the garage door as I was opening up the taxi. I took out the two chairs and waited.

Together we managed to get the table top out. She set it on its side and was rolling it up the walk. I bent over to pick up the first chair by its arms when I noticed that under the plastic bubble wrap what looked like a crack. I pulled back the plastic and yes the chair was broken.

This was the moment, that if I could, I would do over. I did not say anything about my discovery. What came out of my mouth instead were questions about the furniture. "Is this metal?" "Did you check it out?" Even as I was speaking I was thinking that I should tell her what I saw.

Driving back to San Jose I was feeling so badly about what had just happened, but now going back felt out of the question. I was100% sure that I had not done anything to cause the break so why was I acting as though I had? Why didn't I point it out?

All afternoon every time my phone rang, I thought it might be the woman. How many times will my phone ring before I stop wishing that I could forget the moment?

Flat Broke

2006-07-06T12:57:00.000-07:00

By 9:30 this morning I had already been on the road about 200 miles. On Van Ness Ave it was slow going getting out of San Francisco. At every stoplight a panhandler would approach my taxi window with a scribbled message on a cardboard sign. Rather than give out money I would ask,"Cherries?" Every one of the fellows said yes and thank you as I would reach out with a big handful, leaving me just a few bites to enjoy.

At 10:30 I was back in San Jose. I was just about to pull into my driveway with thoughts of taking off my shoes, relaxing and fixing lunch dancing in my head, when I noticed a man out front leaning on a blue Chevy pickup truck. He was holding a motorcycle helmet in one hand and waving to me with his other. I stopped and he said, "Taxi?" I said that yes I was but I did not have his call. He told me that he had been waiting a very long time. So much for lunch. After confirming with my taxi dispatch, that no they did not have a cab on the way for the guy, we took off. He told me that his truck had a flat tire and he was so very late for work, so I stepped on it.

I was about to enter 280 when he said, "whoa! go the other way." I began to ask him if he was sure, "because we could just..." But, he said he did not want to use 101. What should have been a $40 ride including tip turned into $50.+ and he gave a generous tip bringing it up to $60.

I forgot to ask about the motorcycle helmet.

My First Time/ These Guys Car Dancing to My Taxi Music

2006-07-03T19:54:00.000-07:00

House on the Hill 280

2006-06-30T17:17:00.000-07:00

Above Interstate 280 is a rather odd home. One day, as I was on my way to SFO, I decided to get a close up look at the house on the hill.

I didn't get out my map. I thought I would just look for it using probability and intuition. Got it first try.

William Nicholson designed and built this house1976. The house formed over giant inflated aeronautical balloons. A frame of half-inch rebar, a coat of cement then gunite shot over all.

Hillsborough, California near Crystal Springs Reservoir Highway 280 between San Jose and San Francisco.
There were rumors that OJ Simpson (fresh out of court) made an offer for the house.

House pics

Just a Pitiful Cabbie

2006-06-28T20:27:00.000-07:00

Today was going to be one of those days. Some days are harder than others. Nothing in particular was wrong. All the fares were decent but I was just plugging through the day. I was thinking about how I never have enough time. Stupid job! My time on the computer is always so rushed. I would love to read all my favorite bloggers, look at their photos etc. and make comments. I don't always have the time or the energy. I was feeling so sorry for myself.

Then this afternoon something happened to set me straight. I picked up a little lady in her 90's who did not want any help getting in the cab. Remembering that I have a van and the first step up and in to the cab is a big one. I was reluctant to let her try it on her own. I have a small but sturdy folding stool that will hold up to 300lbs that I put out for my shorter or older customers. She would have nothing to do with that silly stool. She was saying, "Don't touch me." Somehow she managed to get herself seated while I stood behind her prepared to grab. She was so determined and feisty. She was not feeling sorry about anything. She made me, her pitiful cabbie, feel ashamed.

Something that made me smile. Today Taxi Vignettes was mentioned on a cool San Francisco site.

If you have the time this from Rodney of The Journey

Driving Tip # 1

2006-06-26T21:53:00.000-07:00

. Driving into the bright sunlight can be difficult. If the a road has been newly striped and remnants of the old stripes are still showing it can be especially hazardous. If you feel lost a quick glance into the rear view mirror will help set you straight.

Left-right. Yes-no.

2006-06-25T09:02:00.000-07:00

American flight # 611 Chicago to San Jose, Ca is notoriously late. The other night it did not get in until 12:30am. I had a personal coming in on the flight so I needed to be there to greet them. By the time they made it to the lobby, we waited for the luggage, got the taxi loaded up and we were driving out of the airport it was well after 1am.

Their destination was an hour south of San Jose and then 15 miles southeast of Hollister. The population of Hollister is around 34,500 and most of the area is rural farmland. As I was driving toward their farmhouse I was making mental notes on how to get back to freeway 101.

All went well but I am always glad to get back to civilization without the cab stalling, picking up a nail or seeing an apparition. Safely home in bed by 3:30am.

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Sometimes a choice must be made. Left-right. Yes-no.
A taxi customer has offered to buy a new Toyota van for me.

I am currently leasing a taxi from Yellow Cab. Although it runs alright, it is 6 years old, the interior is starting to show its age and it does not take road bumps very well. My gate is $200.00 per week more than what the guys that own their cabs pay.

The person is willing to back me with a new taxi. He will buy the vehicle and set it up as a taxi. He is not looking to make a profit so my payments back to him each month will be doable. It will be a big commitment though. Cab driving has a carefree gypsy-ness to it and owning my own taxi would be close to working a "real" job. Left-right or yes-no?

Right Turn? Wrong.

2006-06-20T15:30:00.000-07:00

I had dropped a fare at the Lion Market and was just about to put the taxi in reverse, when a young Vietnamese woman came up to my window and asked if I was free to give her a ride. She showed me a card with an address on El Camino Real and said that is was her motel. I asked if it was the Capri Motel and she agreed.

I pulled out on to Saratoga Ave. and headed north. As I crossed Stevens Creek Blvd. she said, "Why you not turn right? You turn right, now. You go wrong way." I just kept driving and merged on to San Tomas Expy. I knew that if I had turned right (east) I would have been going the long way around. She says to me, "I lose almost two-thousand dollars, I up all night and you not take me to right place."

I told her that I knew the Capri and we were going the right way. She goes on, in a screeching voice, about playing cards all night at "Garden City" about all the money she had lost and now the stupid cab driver was taking her the wrong way.

When we were at the right turn light at San Tomas Expy. and El Camino Real and I could see the Capri Motel, she notices that the meter is at $10. Again she lets me know what she thinks of me, "It only run $8 to go. Why you not turn right?"

I said, "Yes, it may have been $8, though I doubt it, from the casino but remember I picked you up a ways down the road at the Lion Market?" She gave me a $10 dollar bill. "I give you $8 with $2 tip." - - - Oh, joy!

In the beginning of the movie "Stripes" John Winger a cab driver, played by Bill Murray, has an extremely blustery older woman who is making demands, in the back seat of his taxi. She causes him to do something unbelievable. John stops the taxi in the middle of a bridge and tosses the cab keys over the rail and into the river. The woman is fussing even louder and horns are honking as John Winger walks off the bridge. I hope the day I quit driving cab is as equally dramatic.

You Can Run but You Can't Hide--From Soccer

2006-06-17T01:31:00.000-07:00

The business of driving taxi slowed significantly just after 9/11. The Silicon Valley companies were not doing business in person unless it was crucial. Families chose to drive rather than using air travel for their vacations. Taxis stood idle. Some taxi drivers began flying the American flag to assure customers that they were loyal Americans. We were all suspicious of each other. Customers fearing the cab drivers and cabbies not sure of their passengers.

One afternoon I was first up at the train station when the train from San Francisco came in. That was the first time I drove Mohammed. A young man got in and asked would I please take him to a book store near the Vallco-Mall on Wolfe Road in Cupertino. The store was a popular place to find technical books.

I waited for Mohammed for over an hour while he made his selections. He came out with a big bag full of books and sat in the cab for a few minutes before asking to go to a street in Willow Glen.

As we pulled up to an older grey house that had been divided up into apartments the meter was up to $60 something. Mohammed got out his wallet, that was over flowing with big bills, and I think I got $80. He asked if I could pick him up in the morning and get him back to the train station by 6am. See you tomorrow Mohammed.

Mohammed became a regular fare for me. He was nothing but a gentleman but because of all that was going on in the world, and his appearance, in the back of my mind I often found myself questioning my safety. Mohammed was mysteriously quiet; not at all open about his life.

It had become my habit to lock the taxi doors when waiting for a fare and when occupied by a customer. Late one morning, after picking up Mohammed he said, "Why do you lock the doors? Will someone want to get in after they see me?" and he started laughing. I had been driving Mohammed for a few months and this was the first time I had ever heard him laugh, so I joined in. Mohammed started talking about his life and I slowed the taxi.

Mohammed was 24 years old and he was born in Egypt. His father was an attorney and had expected him to become one too. He said he did not want to be under his fathers control, he wanted to be his own man. He started a company and he proudly told me that he had his own car, a Mercedes, and a driver. The daily pressure he was still under from his father to join the family law firm was so great that he felt the need to flee Egypt. Mohammed sold his business and came to the United States. That was one week before the tragedy in New York City.

He had already found a good job here as a designer for a software company and was hoping to stay in the USA, start up his own company here in the valley and get married. I asked if he had a girl in mind and he said that he had met the most beautiful woman at a coffee shop. They had been meeting there every afternoon; she did not know it yet but they would soon be man and wife.

The "beautiful woman" was from Spain and she was in the USA working as an Au Pair for a family with two children. Like Mohammed she too had felt the need to flee her family. One of her brothers was on the Spanish Futbol (soccer) team and it was making her crazy. It was all her father and brothers would ever talk about. To leave the house she would have to fight her way past the fans and the paparazzi. She came to California and got a job helping out a busy family and one day met Mohammed at the coffee shop.

As Mohammed predicted, he is married to the "beautiful woman" and she is now his driver. Mohammed is a huge soccer fan and is looking forward to meeting her brother.

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World Cup

I Do and Don't Forget It. *

2006-06-16T20:47:00.000-07:00

Thanks, New York Hack
http://newyorkhack.blogspot.com/

Thanks, Paradise Driver
http://wilkyle.blogspot.com/

* We might not own the road but just get out of our way and let us work.