Unfortunately, he gets irritating fast. He's clearly done some coke and blathers incessantly about the shortcomings of, oh, the world. His anecdotes all revolve around him uncovering the duplicity or stupidity of underlings. Someone didn't get into the school he wanted, methinks.
Once in Hillsboro, we pull up to a dark and quiet house. He says he'll be right back; he has to go in and get some cash. Ten minutes later I pound on the front door, only to wake up an old couple. I apologize, explain, and we figure out that he went in their open garage and out another door.
Usually when this happens, you get no redress. I usually would have gotten cash up front, but I'd been lulled by his expensive trappings. However, the cops use the SmartPark at 1st and Davis. One helps me find the only BMW left in there. He runs the plates, which he shouldn't do, earning my undying gratitude. Cops can be seriously great sometimes.
I tingle with anticipation as I dial. Oh dear, I've disturbed his peaceful slumber. "Hi, remember me? The cab driver you thought was a total idiot? Anyway, the fare was $40, plus $40 back to town, plus $40 back out to get it. Will that be cash or credit?" Revenge is sweet.
