The continuing mis-adventures of thatoneguyinslc
Living life in the oncoming lane at $2.00 + 10 cents every 1/20th of a mile
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
Howdy folks,
Some of you have may noticed (although most of you prolly didn't) that i haven't been around good old JU much as of late...
I wish (as usual) that it was because my harem of supermodels was keeping me occupied, or that i was too busy spending my powerball winnings, or perhaps that i was totally immersed in completing my gigantic solar death ray somewhere in the Nevada desert.
But alas, tis not true. Life has been keeping me occupied in recent days. Nose to the grindstone, shoulder to the wheel...Ass in the grain thresher.
Oh the humanity of it all!
I recently took a part time gig as a cab driver. Yep, you heard me...a cabbie. In the fabulous SLC of all places. No glamorous locales like Vegas, Miami, NYC, or fabulous
East Orange, New Jersey for this kid. Good Old Salt Lake freakin' City for me.
At this point, you are probably thinking something along the lines of:
"Sounds kinda boring to me!...Driving a bunch of little old mormon ladies to sunday school. What could possibly be exciting about running a hack out there?"
You would be suprised my friends. Suprised indeed!
I have been doing this for about three weeks now. Someone once said that combat is basically hours upon hours of mind numbing boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror. Cab driving, to a lesser extent, is pretty close. Especially when you work the night shift. I chose the graveyard shift for many reasons. Mainly to seperate the drunks from their money. Let's face it, the money is the only reason to drive a hack. No third grader has ever written a 500 page essay about how when the grow up they want to be a cabbie.
Well....Maybe somewhere in Bangladesh...But i digress!
You meet all kinds of people in a taxi late at night. Here's a list of some of them..
Drunken fratboys who always want to find a stripclub
Tourists
The Japanese (see also:TOURISTS) who are quite possibly the worst tippers on the planet
Bartenders (best customers to network with)
Drunk chicks who want to show you their tits in lieu of a tip (Judgement call at best)
Business travelers (my people!)
Strippers (best customers of them all)
People sitting shotgun during DUI stops
Mental patients (Hospitals use taxis to shuttle them about)
People getting out of jail after DUI stops
That's a short list of customers. There are many variations of each classification listed above. Most of them are decent enough people. Just trying to get from point "A" to point "B". I treat all of my customers with respect, and almost always they return the favor. Sometimes they tip, sometimes not. No matter. I still get the fares. Some of them stick in my mind more than others.
Case in point...
About two weeks ago i get a call to head up to the U of Utah Hospital ER.( that's "Emergency Room" for those of you who are living in a cave) I pick up a gentleman in his early 50's named "Rick". Rick is a Hurricane Katrina evacuee from New Orleans who, like many others, lost everything he ever had during the storms and subsequent flooding. He decided to stay here and re-build his life instead of going home. Rick is a very likeable guy. Loves Jazz music, is very intelligent and educated. And had just recieved his first paycheck at his new job.
He decided to go out and have a few beers to celebrate the grand re-starting of his life. The problem is....He went into the wrong bar and got jacked by four drunk Navajos. Four hours, twenty stitches, and two police reports later, he hops into my cab. We start talking on the way to his house, and he lays it all out to me. Losing his family, his job of 20 years, his belongings, his sense of self worth, and just as he sees light at the end of the tunnel...WHAM! Flat on his ass in a bar in SLC. The funny thing is, he wasn't that upset about it. It wasn't going to stop him. I guess that when everything and everyone you hold dear is dead and gone, getting rolled in a bar isn't such a big deal. I hope everything works out for Rick. Somewhere along the line i think he is owed a break. I gave him a small one. The ride was on me.
The hospitals are always the most unusual fares. I have met battered wives, Terminal cancer patients, Vietnam vets who think they're still there, all kinds of folks who have the unfortunate lot in life to have been dealt a bad hand. Most of them don't feel sorry for themselves. Some of them are shockingly honest about their situations. Some just let it roll off their backs like water on a duck. I admire them all for having the guts to keep going. It still breaks my heart a little sometimes. It makes my problems seem petty and insignifigcant.
Tonight was especially hard for me. Which is probably the main reason i'm writing at 4:16 am while sipping on a bottle of Jamisons.
I saw a man die tonight.
I was driving a very nice and attractive Belgian girl to her hotel. We were chit-chtting about how great belgian beer is, and how the germans really need to get over David Hasselhoff, when all of a sudden a little red sports car blew past us on my right side, and smacked right into a bicyclist. Then he kept going. I called 911, and followed the car for a few blocks, got the info, dropped my fare off at her hotel (thank god it was close) and sped back to the accident scene at what seemed like 100 mph.. By the time i got back another motorist had stopped (who was an EMT) and was checking him out before the paramedics got there. (I felt guilty as hell for not stopping initially, but was instructed by the 911 operator to follow the car and get the info first. I should have told them to fuck off and stayed with him.)
By the time the paramedics were working on him he was in full shock. The impact of the collision was so great that it threw him at least 30 feet from the spot of impact. He must have flipped three or four times mid-air. So they load this poor guy into the ambulance and he's not breathing or responding, and they drive away real slow. I thought it was because of his injuries. I found out later from one of the officers that they waited to pull the sheet over him until after they got him in the ambulance. I was stunned. I have seen death a couple of times up-close, but this one was different. I guess it was the callous disregard that some asshole showed by running over this poor man, and just driving away.
They took his life and just kept going.
A police lieutenant approached me and informed me that because of what i did, they identified the driver, and had an APB (all-points-bulletin for all my non american friends) on him. and most likely he would be caught before sunrise. I told the officer that i would be more than willing to testify at his trial.
I called our dispatcher and told him what happened, and that i was done for the night. So here i sit... Drinking irish whiskey, and clickety clacking on the keyboard.
Tomorrow is another day i guess.
Thanks for reading,
thatoneguyinslc
Some of you have may noticed (although most of you prolly didn't) that i haven't been around good old JU much as of late...
I wish (as usual) that it was because my harem of supermodels was keeping me occupied, or that i was too busy spending my powerball winnings, or perhaps that i was totally immersed in completing my gigantic solar death ray somewhere in the Nevada desert.
But alas, tis not true. Life has been keeping me occupied in recent days. Nose to the grindstone, shoulder to the wheel...Ass in the grain thresher.
Oh the humanity of it all!
I recently took a part time gig as a cab driver. Yep, you heard me...a cabbie. In the fabulous SLC of all places. No glamorous locales like Vegas, Miami, NYC, or fabulous
East Orange, New Jersey for this kid. Good Old Salt Lake freakin' City for me.
At this point, you are probably thinking something along the lines of:
"Sounds kinda boring to me!...Driving a bunch of little old mormon ladies to sunday school. What could possibly be exciting about running a hack out there?"
You would be suprised my friends. Suprised indeed!
I have been doing this for about three weeks now. Someone once said that combat is basically hours upon hours of mind numbing boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror. Cab driving, to a lesser extent, is pretty close. Especially when you work the night shift. I chose the graveyard shift for many reasons. Mainly to seperate the drunks from their money. Let's face it, the money is the only reason to drive a hack. No third grader has ever written a 500 page essay about how when the grow up they want to be a cabbie.
Well....Maybe somewhere in Bangladesh...But i digress!
You meet all kinds of people in a taxi late at night. Here's a list of some of them..
Drunken fratboys who always want to find a stripclub
Tourists
The Japanese (see also:TOURISTS) who are quite possibly the worst tippers on the planet
Bartenders (best customers to network with)
Drunk chicks who want to show you their tits in lieu of a tip (Judgement call at best)
Business travelers (my people!)
Strippers (best customers of them all)
People sitting shotgun during DUI stops
Mental patients (Hospitals use taxis to shuttle them about)
People getting out of jail after DUI stops
That's a short list of customers. There are many variations of each classification listed above. Most of them are decent enough people. Just trying to get from point "A" to point "B". I treat all of my customers with respect, and almost always they return the favor. Sometimes they tip, sometimes not. No matter. I still get the fares. Some of them stick in my mind more than others.
Case in point...
About two weeks ago i get a call to head up to the U of Utah Hospital ER.( that's "Emergency Room" for those of you who are living in a cave) I pick up a gentleman in his early 50's named "Rick". Rick is a Hurricane Katrina evacuee from New Orleans who, like many others, lost everything he ever had during the storms and subsequent flooding. He decided to stay here and re-build his life instead of going home. Rick is a very likeable guy. Loves Jazz music, is very intelligent and educated. And had just recieved his first paycheck at his new job.
He decided to go out and have a few beers to celebrate the grand re-starting of his life. The problem is....He went into the wrong bar and got jacked by four drunk Navajos. Four hours, twenty stitches, and two police reports later, he hops into my cab. We start talking on the way to his house, and he lays it all out to me. Losing his family, his job of 20 years, his belongings, his sense of self worth, and just as he sees light at the end of the tunnel...WHAM! Flat on his ass in a bar in SLC. The funny thing is, he wasn't that upset about it. It wasn't going to stop him. I guess that when everything and everyone you hold dear is dead and gone, getting rolled in a bar isn't such a big deal. I hope everything works out for Rick. Somewhere along the line i think he is owed a break. I gave him a small one. The ride was on me.
The hospitals are always the most unusual fares. I have met battered wives, Terminal cancer patients, Vietnam vets who think they're still there, all kinds of folks who have the unfortunate lot in life to have been dealt a bad hand. Most of them don't feel sorry for themselves. Some of them are shockingly honest about their situations. Some just let it roll off their backs like water on a duck. I admire them all for having the guts to keep going. It still breaks my heart a little sometimes. It makes my problems seem petty and insignifigcant.
Tonight was especially hard for me. Which is probably the main reason i'm writing at 4:16 am while sipping on a bottle of Jamisons.
I saw a man die tonight.
I was driving a very nice and attractive Belgian girl to her hotel. We were chit-chtting about how great belgian beer is, and how the germans really need to get over David Hasselhoff, when all of a sudden a little red sports car blew past us on my right side, and smacked right into a bicyclist. Then he kept going. I called 911, and followed the car for a few blocks, got the info, dropped my fare off at her hotel (thank god it was close) and sped back to the accident scene at what seemed like 100 mph.. By the time i got back another motorist had stopped (who was an EMT) and was checking him out before the paramedics got there. (I felt guilty as hell for not stopping initially, but was instructed by the 911 operator to follow the car and get the info first. I should have told them to fuck off and stayed with him.)
By the time the paramedics were working on him he was in full shock. The impact of the collision was so great that it threw him at least 30 feet from the spot of impact. He must have flipped three or four times mid-air. So they load this poor guy into the ambulance and he's not breathing or responding, and they drive away real slow. I thought it was because of his injuries. I found out later from one of the officers that they waited to pull the sheet over him until after they got him in the ambulance. I was stunned. I have seen death a couple of times up-close, but this one was different. I guess it was the callous disregard that some asshole showed by running over this poor man, and just driving away.
They took his life and just kept going.
A police lieutenant approached me and informed me that because of what i did, they identified the driver, and had an APB (all-points-bulletin for all my non american friends) on him. and most likely he would be caught before sunrise. I told the officer that i would be more than willing to testify at his trial.
I called our dispatcher and told him what happened, and that i was done for the night. So here i sit... Drinking irish whiskey, and clickety clacking on the keyboard.
Tomorrow is another day i guess.
Thanks for reading,
thatoneguyinslc
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