Don't forget your fucking phone!

[February 15th, 2006] "Don't forget your fucking phone!" I had picked these two up at the Scoreboard, which is usually a four-dollar fare. I was pleasantly surprised to get a 20-dollar fare, to Southwest Multnomah. That is, until, the guy starts telling me about the liquor store he wants to go to, off Capitol Highway.

"I've got 20 bucks to pay you with." Folks, the time to bargain (if there ever is, because honestly...eh, I've ranted about this before, you can look it up), the time to bargain is when you get in, not right before you get out.

"Dude, we're at 18 already, I have to get off at Multnomah." He calls me a bitch and tells me where to pull over. He throws the money at me, and it's a buck short. "You have a nice night, too," I say. "I'm sure you will," he yells. Nope, too late now.

He finally gets his drunk ass and the ass of his equally drunk girlfriend out, and as I check the seat, I notice her cell phone. I lock the doors, roll down a window, and toss it out after them. He's pissed; he starts pulling on the doors and saying he's got my cab number. I'm sooo scared.

They're lucky I didn't just wait for daytime minutes to start, use her phone to call the time and leave it somewhere like that. Christ, some people. All things considered, I'd have preferred the four-dollar fare.