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
June 4th, 2008
“What’re you up to?” asks my dispatcher.6 comments
May 28th, 2008
The middle-aged guy is working on an oil ship...3 comments
May 21st, 2008
“How you doing tonight, man?”3 comments
May 14th, 2008
As I pull into the back parking lot of Spot 79 on Southeast Foster Road...13 comments
[October 19th, 2005] I'm not really a Mötley Crüe fan, although I will concede that The Dirt, a book written about them, is scabrously funny. But now I'm surrounded by many many many Mötley Crüe fans. Languishing near Lloyd Center, I had seen an order waiting in the frozen north. Odds were it was Jantzen Beach. Odds were against me: It was the Clark County Amphitheater.
I have to find my people amid all this?! Christ on a bike. Even when I think I've succeeded, I've failed. I pull up to a VIP area, and four people erupt with joy—a cab's here, whoo-hoo! We start to leave, but at another gate someone hails. They are the ones who called. Protocol is fuzzy here: It's bad form to put someone out of your cab, but also bad form to leave behind a customer. And one of those guys is going to Molalla. Damn. My passengers offer to pay me double to get them home to east Vancouver. I call another cab for the Molalla-bound folks and leave.
One of the women in my cab is wearing what looks like a white Christmas-tree garland around her neck, entwined with blue and red LEDs. It keeps faking me out, like there's a cop behind me. We arrive at last. The fare is $35; I'm handed $40. What about that double-fare offer, say I. One of the guys hands me a card and silently, almost dares me to run it for $40. I do, and he laughs and says that's fine. But Molalla. Whimper.
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