August 27th, 2008
“Son of a bitch, you’re running up the meter!”27 comments
August 20th, 2008
"Hey bro, remember me? You wrote that story about me in the paper."3 comments
August 13th, 2008
“It’s the Californians, man, the Californians are the worst.”15 comments
August 6th, 2008
The middle-aged man I picked up at Vendetta is in a hyperactively verbose lather ...0 comments
July 23rd, 2008
When I step into the obese old woman's apartment5 comments
July 16th, 2008
The obese old woman at Fred Meyer has a bad hip and a wheelchair...8 comments
July 9th, 2008
“...I need to take a shower first and wash all of this blood off.”6 comments
July 2nd, 2008
“So I’ve got these two women in the back of my cab who just refuse to get out...”8 comments
June 25th, 2008
“My friend’s getting divorced, and he’s really drunk,” says the bartender...8 comments
June 18th, 2008
There’s nothing like a good Friday night, and I’m referring to the money.3 comments
[May 16th, 2007] The guy strikes me as being familiar as he wanders out into my cab from the strip club. A slouching young man in a puffy jacket follows him and also gets in.
The first guy asks me to take them to a crack corner, and he has me put on the soul AM radio station, telling me he's an old man who likes old-man music. At least the dude's got taste.
We get there, and he and his assistant hop out. He has a lengthy discussion with some crackheads and another kid in a big jacket, and then gets back in and has me take him to a nearby house. He's angry.
He stands in front flexing his hands, which are now in black gloves. He's let in, back out a few minutes later. We pick up his aide, and another guy, and go off to buy beer next door to the strip joint where I got him. He talks about how he hasn't slept in four days, keeps taking that Ecstasy to stay awake.
We finally end up at an apartment; the meter's up around $42. He doesn't have money.
"I'm a gangster," he says, "but I'm honest." He seems sincere and has me give him my card and take his watch to have the super hold in lieu of fare.
The supe laughs when I give him the watch and the guy's information—it's the same cat I'd seen three weeks earlier at the garage, being escorted off by police.
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