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
June 11th, 2008
The old man in the karaoke bar’s parking lot insists that he doesn’t need any help...0 comments
[August 27th, 2008] “Son of a bitch, you’re running up the meter!”
The old man is drunk, and furious that I was unwilling to make an illegal turn through busy traffic.
“Hey, I told you I’ll knock a buck off, just chill.”
“You piece of shit, it costs $8.70 this way, and $8.30 my way!”
“So we’ll call it $8. This isn’t a big deal.”
When we reach his retirement home, the meter does indeed read $8.70, and he begins again. “I know what you just did to me! I know how you cabbies are, you can’t fool me.”
“Look, I said it’s eight, calm down.”
“I should call the police on you, you little motherfucker,” he growls as he offers up the money.
“Hey, just keep it and get out, all right? You can have a free ride, that’s how greedy I am.”
And he spits in my eye, and the blood burns my cheeks, and I’m screaming as loud as I can. I call him a pathetic, washed-up drunk, a disgusting old fuck, and countless other vile things. I berate him out of the cab, his pupils dilated with fear. I’ve lost all control, and it’s both exhilarating and terrifying.
When he’s gone, I turn off the MDT, pull into an empty parking lot, and collapse into my seat, disgusted at my treatment of someone old enough to be my grandfather. The epiphany is as clear and unmistakable as it always is: I’m burnt out, and I need to get out.
Night Cabbie is now off duty. Contact him at nightcabbie@wweek.com.
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