May 14th, 2008
As I pull into the back parking lot of Spot 79 on Southeast Foster Road...13 comments
May 7th, 2008
I’ve had this stooped old alcoholic once before.6 comments
April 30th, 2008
When I call out to the Emanuel E.R.’s waiting room for my fare...13 comments
April 23rd, 2008
“No, really, I believe you,” I tell the old man.17 comments
April 16th, 2008
“Vote Ron Paul? Who’s that, Sean Paul’s cousin?”15 comments
April 2nd, 2008
I ask the two guys if there's going to be a problem with the payment... | [CONTINUED FROM LAST WEEK] 20 comments
March 26th, 2008
For the first time ever, I flip the panic switch. 11 comments
March 19th, 2008
It’s raining so hard the water kicked up by my tires makes a slapping sound...5 comments
March 12th, 2008
I pick up the two teenagers in inner Southeast12 comments
March 5th, 2008
I’m thankful when I turn on the ignition that I’ve been listening to blues tonight6 comments
[April 9th, 2008]
The young woman leans forward between the two front seats and turns her head toward me to speak. Each breath against my neck sends chills down my spine.
She's telling me about how she hates her friends for making her take a cab. The way she sees it, she's such a good driver that all being drunk does is bring her down to everyone else's level.
I tell her my standard jokes on drunkenness, and she laughs and compliments me on my music, and with each exhalation my goosebumps rise.
I pull into her parking lot, and when I tell her not to apologize for giving me a credit card, she tells me that I'm sweet. When I turn to give her the card back, we make eye contact and I realize that I could kiss her, that she wants me to kiss her, and that we're just a slight move away from it happening.
"I wish I could just ride shotgun and drive around with you all night," she says. "Where are you going next?"
"I've gotta get this thing gassed up and back to the garage." I silently curse myself for taking an early shift.
"That doesn't sound like any fun. Can't you be done right now?"
"It doesn't take all that long to get there and back, maybe half an hour."
"No," she declares, "I've got school in the morning." We spend another five minutes talking, but the moment has passed.
The cab is in on time.
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huh?
Go Ed...she fond for him prong, but NC gas the short otherness.
That's not spader, that's edgar winter
But then, not all of NC3's fares are worth going back for...
I know that I shall meet my fate
While riding on a Portland street; Those that I haul, I love or hate; Those who tip, can't wait to meet.
Nor bucks nor bennies make me drive;
Nor the chance to meet some fucking freak; I only wish to stay alive, and my own meager living eke.
I balanced all, the puke-filled seat,
"Fuck much?" was your conversational stab; and I could feel your body heat,
When I said, "Get out of my fucking cab."
impeccable timing!
i was going to ask you if i could borrow your column for a week or if you could write about my fear (sic).
hmmmm...