Day Cabbie

The suspect dad

2009-06-09T20:16:00.000-07:00

He flagged me down on Market between Franklin and Gough. There was something tentative about the way he flagged me down. I felt like he was hiding something. He had a stroller with him. I couldn't see what was in it. For a moment I wondered if he was the kind of person who uses a stroller to cart around personal belongings. He pointed at the stroller and said with a Spanish accent "Sleeping." I said "Ah." So there was a child in there.

He put the child on the backseat. It was a one-year-old boy. He folded up the stroller, and I put it in the trunk.

"Where are you going?"

"Divisadero.. but first, I have to pick up some medication."

"Where?"

"Right here... No, here... One more block." This went on for a couple of blocks.

He asked me to pull over at Market and Laguna. There is no pharmacy at that intersection. I was wondering what kind of "medication" he was picking up. He left the little boy in the cab with me. He was gone for about ten minutes. I am not a parent but this seemed kind of irresponsible. I tried to make the little boy laugh by playing peekaboo with him. I eventually succeeded. He bared his teeth at me. There was a huge gap between his two upper front teeth.

The dad came back. "Thank you for watching him," he said. "No problem," I said. I wondered if he had just taken his little son on a drug run.

"Where to now?"

"What time is it?"

"2:06."

"Oh, we have time. She doesn't get off work until 3:30. Let's go to the Marina. The playground there on Chestnut."

"Okay."

We talked about the little boy, his mom. The dad told me they live in the Outer Mission. I told him I live in the Inner Mission.

When we got to the playground on Chestnut, the dad pulled out a booklet of Paratransit tickets. I thought that was odd. People who use Paratransit tickets are usually old and/or disabled. But I didn't think too much about it. The fare was $17.05. I counted all the tickets in the booklet, and there was $18 worth. I also made sure that the white trip report sheet was on top and that it was signed. Without the trip report, the tickets aren't worth anything.

After counting, I put the booklet down on the center divider between the two front seats. Then I got up to get the stroller out of the trunk. The dad collected his son from the backseat. We thanked each other and wished each other a nice day.

After I took off, I picked up the Paratransit booklet to write down my cabbie number on the trip report. The white trip report was gone. One little corner of it was still there. The suspect dad must have ripped it off while I was getting the stroller and he was getting his son. Without the trip report, the Paratransit tickets can't be redeemed. He had literally ripped me off.

Now I knew what he had been hiding. This whole time he had probably been wondering if he would be able to rip me off.

Love works

2009-05-05T14:44:00.001-07:00

On the way back from the airport I had a lady in my cab that I would describe as bitchy. I made this judgment after overhearing two of her phone conversations. The first one, I assumed, was with a client/customer.

After establishing their names, she said to him impatiently "Can I help you?" And for the rest of the conversation her tone and choice of words made it very apparent that she had no interest whatsoever in helping him or talking to him. After hanging up, she said "God!" and I could hear her eyes roll back into her skull.

The next thing I heard out of her head was "You are the most annoying person in North America!" I got really tense but then relaxed slightly when I realized that she was not talking to me but to someone on the phone again.

"You knew I was flying to the West Coast this morning. What made you think I would be able to answer the phone?"

Bitch, bitch, bitch, on she went. I noticed that my body was still tense, and I thought 'I can't wait to get this woman out of my cab.'

She had two more phone conversations that appeared to be with family members or close friends and that were much milder in tone, in which she used words like "honey" and "love you."

I was still slightly frustrated about the negative air with which she had filled my cab earlier, but instead of sending her negative vibes in return, I decided to send her love. I breathed out and imagined love emanating from my heart and finding its way directly to her.

When I pulled up in front of the W Hotel a few blocks later, she said chipperly "Oh, we're here, aren't we?"

"Yes, we are," I said, relieved.

"I'm always surprised by the lack of hotel driveways here in San Francisco," she said in a honeyed voice. Then she told me that she didn't even remember which hotel she had stayed in the last time she came to San Francisco--from LA, she added--and that she was looking forward to dining at the Slanted Door later in the day.

She gave me a big tip. I was torn between feeling proud and manipulative for having made her stop being a bitch.

Just so you know

2009-03-27T18:45:00.001-07:00

I was going North on Columbus and about to make a left turn on Bay when I decided 'Nah, I'm gonna make a right on Bay instead.' Immediately it turned out to be the right decision because a doorman flagged and whistled me over to the Hilton. A lady got in. She was from Dallas, and even as late as the year 2009, she had the stereotypical big hair. I liked her subtle Texan accent.

She worked for Nokia and needed to go to 650 Townsend, where the Nokia office is.

"I used to work in that building," I said.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Macromedia used to be in there."

"Oh."

After a beat:

"I have to ask: How did you go from working for Macromedia to being a cab driver?"

"Well, about three years ago I quit my job at Macromedia because I was tired of sitting in an office full-time. My intention was to become a counselor, but then I decided that I didn't want to do that full-time either. So I also started driving a cab, and three years later, I am still doing it, two days a week."

In the rear view mirror I saw that she was smiling.

"And I am going to keep driving until my taxi stories have been published as a book. I write taxi stories."

"Oh, cool."

"Yes. I am going to keep collecting taxi stories until the book is out."

I was glad that I had decided to drive along the Embarcardero instead of through the Financial District because she seemed to enjoy the sunny and sparkly view of the bay.

Unnay

2009-02-21T13:10:00.000-08:00

After waiting at the airport for two hours, I finally got my passenger. She needed to go to the German consulate.

I didn't know where that was so I asked her for the address. She said it was 1960 Jackson, which I guessed to be at Franklin, but it turned out to be one block farther, at Gough.

"I am German too but I have never actually been to the German consulate here," I said. And this is when the conversation turned to German.

She told me in German that she needed to get her German passport renewed. She said there was no German consulate in Seattle, where she lived, so she had flown into San Francisco for the day because San Francisco had a German consulate.

She was originally from a tiny village by Nürnberg, and sometimes it was hard for me to understand her because of her Bavarian accent.

She said she couldn't wait to move back to Germany because that's where she wanted her children to grow up. She had been in the U.S. for twenty years. Her children were 3 and 2. I loved what she called them: Their names were Joshua and Sophia, but she referred to them as Yoshi and Phia.

I gave her my card so she could call me when she was ready to go back to the airport. She called me about an hour later, but I was stuck at the airport. On the phone, we were back to speaking English. I knew that her flight wasn't for a few more hours, so I asked her if she didn't want to see a little more of San Francisco while waiting for me.

"Yes, but I am lost here."

I told her to keep walking on Jackson until she got to Fillmore and then walk down Fillmore Street. It had lots of shops and cafes, I told her. She agreed to wait for me there.

Another hour later, I called her to say that I was approaching Fillmore Street, ready to pick her up. She said that I had sent her to an interesting area. I was glad. She had walked all the way from Jackson down to O'Farrell Street. We were still speaking English.

As soon as she got back into my cab, we started speaking German again. I thought it was curious but it also felt very natural. On the way to the airport, she told me that she had noticed a lot of people smoking on Fillmore Street. She said that she had been a smoker for a long time but that she had quit a few years ago. She said she really missed it and that she was considering starting again when she was 70.

What I liked most about her was that her name was Anne but she didn't let people pronounce it the American way. Instead, she told people that her name was "Unnay" because that resembles how Anne is pronounced in German. She said that it made people want to put an accent on the 'e', and this annoyed her.

High school reunion

2009-02-17T11:52:00.000-08:00

I was leaving the taxi lot around 6am and felt called to drive up Potrero Hill rather than towards downtown like I normally do. At Pennsylvania and 23rd I looked over to see a figure standing under the 280 overpass in the rain. At first I thought it was a homeless person dancing with an umbrella. But then I realized that this person was actually trying to get my attention. I made a left on 23rd and picked the person up.

It was a handsome young man with long braids. He needed to go to the Ferry Building to catch a ferry to Sausalito.

"What are you doing in Sausalito?" I asked.

He told me something about a bicycle race, Lance Armstrong, etc.

"People are going there this early, on a holiday?"

"Yeah."

I am really glad that I asked what I asked next. I said

"So what brings you to this race?"

"Well.. I am a cyclist. But that's not why I am going. This is going to sound kind of weird. The first girl I ever kissed, in high school, is going to be there. I am 29 now, and we recently got back in touch, and I think we are going to--how do you say that?"

"Start dating?"

"Yeah, I guess. Is that how you say that?"

"Maybe," I giggled.

"She lives in Sausalito now with her parents. We spent all of yesterday together, and now I am going back."

"Cool. How did you guys find each other?"

"It's funny because I had actually been thinking about her all these years. It was only one kiss, and then we graduated, but I had always wondered what could have happened. So a couple of years ago I googled her name. And she is actually a famous opera singer now--or as famous as opera singers get. And I noticed that she was performing at Yerba Buena Gardens that weekend. So I went. And she recognized me. But she didn't remember the kiss."

"Wow!"

"At that time she was still with her husband, from whom she is now divorced, also a guy from high school."

"No!"

"Yes. I know, it's really weird. It all sounds like a movie. I am just going along for the ride and curious to see what happens."

I am curious too. The guy had a really curious name too--a Nigerian name with almost 20 letters. I wish him and the opera singer all the best.

Coincidence

2009-01-12T18:19:00.000-08:00

I was on my way to Ocean Beach to watch the moonset. A friendly-looking gray-haired guy was standing at a bus stop in the deep Richmond, and I pulled over. I knew right away that our paths had crossed before.

He was going to the VA hospital just a few blocks away.

"I am pretty sure I have met you or seen you before."

"Uhhh.." He didn't seem to recognize me.

"Do you work with the public?"

"No, but I used to own a café."

"Which one?"

"It was on Page and Octavia-"

"That's it!" I suddenly saw him standing behind the counter of that café with a friendly smile on his face. I recognized this image as a memory of mine. "I used to come in there all the time!"

"Ah. What a coincidence."

"I used to come in there for a bagel with sun-dried tomato cream cheese all the time." It is true.

"You're making me hungry for some coffee or tea."

When I dropped him off, I said "It was nice to see you again."

"It was nice to see you again too. Coincidence."

This was the second time he talked about a coincidence. But I knew that it wasn't a coincidence because earlier that morning I had been tired and cranky, and I had asked the universe to lead me to a better-feeling place. And after this encounter, I was feeling better.

Wonderings

2009-01-05T18:28:00.000-08:00

It was the day of dead Christmas trees. They were on almost every street corner.

A guy with stylish glasses and shaggy black hair flagged me down at Market and Van Ness.

"24th and Church, please."

I wanted to say "Hey, that's my neighborhood!" but I didn't. In fact, I didn't say anything during the whole ride, and neither did he. But the radio was playing Radiohead, and I got the sense he appreciated and enjoyed that.

On 24th, right before Church, I said "Can I drop you off here?"

"Across the street, please," he said, so I crossed Church.

'I bet he works at the Shoe Biz,' I thought, so I stopped right in front of the Shoe Biz.

I watched him after he got out of the cab, and he walked across the street, to a new clothing store called Cary Lane. The store was still closed, and he unlocked it.

Since 24th Street is my neighborhood, I knew that Cary Lane had only been there for a month or two. I also knew that before the store was empty for a few months, there had been a small grocery store in there that I had loved going to until it went out of business. I still miss it. I wondered if my passenger knew about the grocery store and ever felt the ghosts of vegetables and loaves of bread.

A little later for lunch, I tried to go to the Indian restaurant another cabbie had recommended to me a while ago. Unfortunately it was no longer there, and a Thai restaurant was there instead. I decided to eat there, and the Tofu Prik King was actually really tasty. I wondered if the friendly girls working there ever felt the ghosts of Naan and Paneer Tikka Masala.

When a drunk made my day

2008-12-31T08:08:00.000-08:00

He ran into the street at Mason and Eddy and waved me over. He looked like a bum. My prejudices were surprised that I was pulling over, but I was. I wondered if he had any money but I also knew from experience that even bums (or people who look like bums) only flag down cabs when they actually have money. The people who end up ripping you off don't look like bums. It was a slow day anyway, so any fare was a good fare.

He looked surprised that I had stopped too. When he got in, he thanked me. I can imagine that some cab drivers might have passed him by, and again, that's my prejudices talking.

"Valencia and 14th, yeah, that's it," he said with a slurred speech and then "Merry christmas and happy new year and you're beautiful!"

"Thank you," I said and smiled.

"How is your day going?"

I rounded the wide corner that swallows Turk at Taylor and Market and noticed that he reeked of alcohol. Maybe he wasn't a bum, maybe just a drunk with bad hygiene.

I told him that my day had been okay, how about his. He said that he had seen worse, he had seen better, did I know? I absolutely knew. That's exactly how I was feeling that day.

We chatted a little about New Year's, and after everything I said, he said "Yeah, alright, okay," perhaps to let me know that he had understood or perhaps to let himself know that he had understood. It made the conversation easy-going and pleasant.

He commented on female cab drivers, and how there weren't many. He said he was glad he had a woman today because most of the men drivers, they weren't nice to him. My prejudices could imagine that some cab drivers weren't very nice to him. In fact, they could imagine that most people weren't nice to him. And if I had been around him for more than this seven minute cab ride, I might not have been nice to him either. I felt sad for him.

He had me pull over at the liquor store on Valencia and 14th. He said "I am going to give you a huge tip. I am going to make your day."

"Awesome," I said and smiled.

"Well, I might not make your day, but I am going to give you a huge tip."

I wondered what he meant by "huge tip." I have seen other people's "huge tips" be two or three dollars.

The fare was $7.60. He gave me a twenty and got out of the car. To me, that qualifies as a huge tip. And you know what? It totally made my day. Unfortunately I didn't get the chance to tell him that.

Things that made me smile today

2008-12-11T16:50:00.000-08:00

My first passenger, at 6:45am, was a little old lady with a cane and a hunched back. She was on her way to her volunteer job.

"I make sandwiches for homeless people," she told me.

She said they usually don't expect her until 9am but she likes to get an early start, and it's okay if she shows up early. It takes her about two hours to make all the sandwiches. It's usually about 50, but sometimes 60. The homeless people pick them up around 4pm. She is long gone by then. She said the sandwiches are made every day. She makes them on Mondays and Thursdays; other people help out on the other days.

"That's a really nice thing to do," I said.

"Yeah, it gets old folks out of the house. And it gets them thinking about something other than themselves."

A little later I had an Australian couple in their 60's in my cab. The guy sang along with all the RnB songs the radio was playing. And he called my Prius my "little Prissy."

Then I saw a Volkswagen Beetle parked on the street whose license plate said LASAGNE.

I took a chance and gained lots

2008-10-15T11:13:00.000-07:00

I noticed recently that I haven't been engaging in conversation with my passengers as much as I used to. I also noticed that I haven't been enjoying cab driving as much as I used to. I was sure that the two were related. I don't remember ever regretting venturing past the small talk threshold with a passenger. Once you go there, there is usually something interesting to be found there. I think I have just been feeling tired and withdrawn. So I resolved to engage in conversation more and to push myself if I have to.

This week a youngish man flagged me down at Van Ness and Ellis. He was friendly and talkative. I was not feeling friendly or talkative. I felt like he was on a higher energy level than I was, and I didn't know if I could match it. He commented on my Prius taxi and how I must be saving a lot on gas. I am a little bored of talking about the Prius and how much money I am saving on gas. But I decided to push myself and stay in conversation with this guy. So during a break in the conversation, I asked him if he had ever driven a Prius before. He said no. And then I decided to ask him something that has been on my mind lately.

"Have you ever been to a third world country?"

And that's when we started talking about traveling, and that's when he told me that he was leaving for his honeymoon later today. He said that maybe I could drive him and his wife to the airport, and I gave him my card.

Later I received a phone call from a woman who needed to go to the airport and who was at the same address where I had dropped the guy off. I told her that I would come pick her up and asked her if her husband had been in my cab earlier. She said no, that was her brother-in-law.

When I arrived to pick her up, I found out that my earlier passenger's sister-in-law and her husband needed to go to the airport first. They had been in town for my passenger's wedding and were now heading back home. After dropping them off, my passenger wanted me to come back for himself and his wife to take them to the airport as well.

So for opening my mouth and continuing a conversation I had thought I was done with, I gained not one, but two airport fares.

The job interview

2008-09-16T17:04:00.000-07:00

He was running towards me across the street and waving. He had long, stringy brown hair that was covering part of his face. At first I thought he was a woman. When I still thought he was a woman, something felt off about her, out of control, troubled, unsettled.

I stopped to pick him up and his stringy hair and his messenger bag. This was at Waller and Webster. He said he had to go to 2nd and Market and that he was running late. I convinced myself that he was on amphetamines. He kept sniffing his nose. And each of his movements made the whole backseat shake.

Near Market and Octavia he asked me about how many more blocks we had to go. I said about twelve. He received a phone call.

"I'm in a cab. I'm almost there. Am I in trouble?"

-

"What is the exact address that I can tell her?"

-

"Oh, that's at 2nd and Bryant?"

-

"It's at 2nd and Bryant," he said to me.

"Oh, that's a little bit farther."

"That's a little bit further, she says," he said into the phone.

I turned off of Market at 11th and took Folsom instead. Just before we turned on 2nd Street, he leaned forward to look at himself in the rear view mirror and said

"How do I look? Do I look okay?"

"Um.."

I wanted to say that he looked strung out. I wanted to say that he looked a little tired.

"I'm going to a job interview. Do I look okay for a job interview?"

I wanted to say that he looked like he was on drugs and that the people interviewing him would probably be able to tell.

"Maybe push the hair out of your face," I said. He pushed the hair out of his face.

"What kind of job is it for?"

"It's an art director position. I really need this job."

I dropped him off at 2nd and Bryant.

"Good luck," I said. He ambled towards a door on 2nd Street, shifting around his messenger bag, his hair hanging into his face. I looked at his clothing. He was wearing slacks and a dress shirt. I hadn't even noticed.

Angels

2008-09-09T20:39:00.000-07:00

I took a couple from a hotel downtown to a car rental place at Fisherman's Wharf. It turned out that the woman was German. She had moved to America at the age of 18. I had been 20 when I came. She felt like the kind of woman my mom would be friends with. They were about the same age too.

We spoke in German for a little bit but then switched back to English so that her companion could understand us. She was from Berlin. I told her that if I had stayed in Germany, I would have wanted to live in Berlin. We agreed that Berlin and San Francisco had a similar feel. We also agreed that Cologne was a great city but a little stuffier than Berlin. She told me that she loved America and loved living here, but that she was German at heart. She asked me if I felt the same way. I told her that I was going through a phase where I was feeling very bitter about my German upbringing and that I was having a hard time seeing any positive in it. I asked her how she was able to prefer it here while at the same time appreciating her Germanness. She told me that some of her American friends of 40 years have helped her see how valuable some of her German traits were, such as that she was honest and hard-working.

I told her that I hoped to some day get to where she was today, and that it didn't feel good to be so negative about one's origin.

I dropped them off near Fisherman's Wharf, we shook hands, and I found out that her name was Dörte. I was about to get back into the car and leave.

"Vera," she called me back, pronouncing my name the German way. I turned back.

"One thing only: Keep the faith. You will get to where you want to go." She held both of my hands in front of her chest and said it with such emphasis and sincerity that I almost started crying.

Later, at the corner of 9th Avenue and Irving, I saw a couple standing on the street, kissing and hugging good-bye. When the girl had left and the boy was facing the street ready to cross it, our eyes met, and I wondered what he was thinking.

Phew

2008-08-04T18:38:00.001-07:00

Me after
Originally uploaded by Verabug

It was my first day driving with my new haircut. I was afraid of people judging me. My first customer that day was extremely pleasant. It was a guy who appeared to be in his 50's. He got into my cab at the Marriott on 4th Street. He was very friendly and asked me how I was doing. He had no luggage and was going to the airport. He said he wanted to go to the International arrivals terminal. I told him I didn't think I had ever dropped anybody off at the arrivals terminal. It was always the departures terminal. He said

"It's nice to contribute to the diversity in someone's day."

"Indeed. I think that's something we can all inspire to," I said. And to myself I thought 'I feel like that's what I'm doing with my new haircut. I'm glad he understands.'

He was picking up his son, who had just been in China for a year, teaching English. I asked him what his son was going to do next in life, now that he was coming back from China. He said he didn't know but that he was thinking about working on an oil rig.

"I told him to do everything he wants to do while he's young. It's not good to look back on your life later and regret things you didn't do."

This pleased me. I think it's a great attitude for a parent to have, a rather uncommon one too, what with all this striving for productivity and getting ahead. I told him this. I also told him that I used to put a lot of energy into getting ahead, and that I didn't start doing the things I wanted to do until I burnt out.

"And that's why now, in my early 30's, I am driving a cab because that's something I had always wanted to do," I said.

"You're in your early 30's?"

"Yes."

"No. Let me look at you. I thought you were much younger."

I laughed. I also wanted to kiss him, not only because he thought I looked much younger than I am, but also because he didn't mind looking at me with my new haircut.

The nephew

2008-07-22T14:43:00.000-07:00

I picked up a guy at the airport. He appeared to be in his early 20's. He had a huge plastic case and a huge duffel bag with him. He wanted to go to 201 Mission.

"So what are you doing in San Francisco? You don't live here, right?" I asked.

"No, I'm from New York. My uncle lives here, I'll be doing some work here this week, and I'm doing a sailing competition this weekend."

I found out that the work he does is something non-profit that has to to do with transforming congress. I also found out that the big plastic case did not hold golf clubs, but a rudder and a pole for his sail boat.

"So where I'm taking you right now, is that where you work?"

"No, actually, that's a Bistro Burger."

He told me that his uncle was the founder of Bistro Burger. There were four or five of them in downtown San Francisco. He said he was meeting his uncle at one of them. I asked him if they had any vegetarian burgers. He said yes, there were several vegetarian burgers.

I said "I'm starving. If I find a parking spot, maybe I'll try out your uncle's burger place."

I did find a parking spot, less than a block away. I went into the Burger Bistro and ordered a BBQ Veggie Burger. Right around the time that my food was being delivered, my passenger and another man walked in. My passenger waved at me, and they both walked over to me.

"So you're the uncle?" I said to the older man.

"Yes, I'm the uncle. So you're the cab driver?"

"Yes, I'm the cab driver."

"Have a soda on the house, okay?"

"I will. Thank you."

They ended up sitting at a small table next to mine. Far enough away so that they could have their own uncle and nephew conversation, but close enough so that the uncle could turn to me and ask me how the food was.

When I was finished, I thanked the uncle for the drink. And to my passenger I said "Thank you for the tip. I always love it when a passenger tells me about a place I haven't been to before."

And the uncle said to me "Thank you for taking such good care of him."

I never found out either of their names, but that's okay.

Babe Cab

2008-07-15T16:58:00.001-07:00

4 girls, 4 green cabs
Originally uploaded by Verabug

Yesterday all Green Cabs had to go to the airport for a GTU (Ground Transportation Unit) inspection. It was pretty cool to have
all Green Cabs at the same place at the same time, which doesn't happen often. But afterwards, something even cooler happened. We now have four Toyota Priuses and one Honda Civic hybrid. It just so happened that that day, all four Toyota Prius drivers were women. We decided to caravan through the airport line together, trying not to get separated. First we had to drive from the GTU Inspection place
to the airport parking lot. Lizzie was first in 914, then Carol in 1202, Raqya in 1106 and finally me in 690. It was super fun to be driving around the airport as part of a four-Prius all-female caravan. It gave me a sense of belonging and pride. I took a lot of pictures of my dashboard and the three Priuses ahead of me. Once in the parking lot, we caused quite the stir. "One... two... three... four! Wow," we
heard some drivers say. One guy came up to me and said "How did you guys time it just right?" I said that we had all just been at the
GTU inspection and decided to all get an airport fare afterwards.

We had to work with the dispatchers in each of the three lots to make sure we didn't get separated. They were all very cooperative. Only
the guy in the last lot said he couldn't interrupt the regular flow of the airport line, which was understandable. So we waited outside until all four Green Cabs had made it out of the lot before continuing on to the terminal. It was a wonderfully unique experience.

Jessica from Portland

2008-06-06T11:58:00.000-07:00

Today I stopped for lunch at the Herbivore on Valencia because I was craving their shawarma. I sat down at a small table. At the small table next to mine was a girl about my age, studying the menu, also by herself. After both the girl and I had ordered, she turned to me and said

"Excuse me. Do you know the best way to get to Fisherman's Wharf from here?"

I asked her if she was driving. She said no and that she was going to try to take BART or walk. I chuckled, and she asked if it was difficult to get there.

I said

"No, it's just that I'm a taxi driver, and my taxi is right outside. I can take you there if you like."

"After we're done eating?"

"Yes."

"About how much will it be?"

"About twelve dollars."

"Okay. That sounds good."

We chatted a little while we were eating. She was visiting a friend who had just graduated from UCSF. Today she was checking out the city while she had a little time to herself. She said she hadn't been to San Francisco in over ten years. I also found out that she doesn't eat wheat because it makes her nauseous.

After we were both done eating and had paid for our food, I asked her if she was ready. We walked outside and across the street to my taxi.

"The green one?"

"Yes."

"It's cute."

"I know."

"Can I sit in the front?"

"Sure."

"I feel like I know you now."

I took Mission Street, turned left on 7th and took Leavenworth all the way up to Fisherman's Wharf. That way I serendipitously got to show her Lombard Street even though I hadn't even planned for that.

I asked her if a friend had recommended Herbivore to her. She said no and that she had been looking for Cafe Gratitude instead. But she had gone the wrong way from the BART station, towards Valencia instead of Harrison. That's how she had found Herbivore.

"And that's fine," she said, "because that way I also found a ride to Fisherman's Wharf."

When we got to Fisherman's Wharf, the fare was $13.90. I told her that I was only charging her $12 because that's what I had told her it would be. She gave me $17.

We didn't exchange names until the very end.

Another memorable Memorial Day

2008-05-30T11:59:00.000-07:00

I love driving on holidays. As a day driver, I rarely have to deal with drunk humans, for which I am thankful as a rule, but it's entertaining to entertain drunk humans once in a while. That's why, for the second year in a row, I kept going to the End Up on Memorial Day morning because most of the humans there were intoxicated and had been up all night.

It's so interesting to be a sober, well-rested observer of the party scene. I can sometimes be found partying and being intoxicated myself--though rarely at 8 in the morning. Seeing the humans pile out of the club, I wondered if, when intoxicated, I, too, am that sloppy, talk that loudly, have such lumbersome motor skills. I cringingly admitted to myself that the answer was probably yes, though I told myself arrogantly that I did it with better style than "these people."

Yes, I was having a judgmental morning. With every other human that exited the club, I thought "Oh, I hope I don't get them in my cab." It didn't help that a very haggard-looking guy in pinkish sweatpants was milling about outside, who kept getting into altercations and mini chases with the doormen and who had now pulled down his sweatpants and was whirling around his penis at the doormen. I guess that's how he expressed his contempt.

I was lucky in that all the fares I ended up with were, in my estimation, respectable intoxicated beings and didn't make me too uneasy: a guy with an Eastern European accent who didn't talk at all, a girl who recounted her entire night to a friend on the phone, three Thai kids on Ecstasy who asked me how old I was and told me that I was "so cool." Then there was the guy with whom I had a conversation abut the very thing I had been contemplating all morning: being the critical sober observer. He had been there himself, even if this morning he was neither observing nor sober.

Around 11 I had my first non-End Up fare, and that marked the end of the intoxicated humans and the beginning of the humans just going about their holiday. When I was sitting and knitting at the taxi stand at the Marriott, two guys who were cute in a geeky way and reminded me of Harold and Kumar stood outside my window and stared at me with curiosity. I rolled down the window and said "Yes?" I wasn't next in line yet, hence the hesitation. "Can you take us somewhere?" Looking at the three cabs in line in front of me, I said sure, justifying it with the fact that they had chosen me as their Memorial Day cab driver, and who was I to deny two cute geeky boys their Memorial Day wish?

"So what are you knitting?" one of them asked as they slid into the backseat. I folded the knitted rectangle around my hand and said "Fingerless gloves. See?" "Ah."

Later, at Gough and Market, a beggar stood on the corner with a cardboard sign. His long hair and Native American looks tugged at my heart. I rolled down the window. He, sensing motion in his peripheral vision, looked my way and then walked over to collect the dollar bill I was holding up. He thanked me, blessed me and smiled, exposing a swollen lower lip. When he was back at his corner and after I had rolled up my window, we glanced at each other one more time, both smiled shyly and quickly looked away again. Now that was a memorable moment.

A final party

2008-05-25T14:22:00.000-07:00

I was dispatched to 16th and Guerrero. After waiting for about five minutes, a hurried-looking girl with glasses and a huge yellow vintage duffel bag carried a tray of food to the cab. The smell of the food reminded me of my mom's homemade pizza.

"Is that... pizza?" I asked.

"No. But I'm glad you think so. It's a vegan dish with lima beans."

"No tomatoes?"

"No."

"Hm. I wonder what reminded me of pizza then. Maybe some kind of spice?"

"Thyme."

"Yes, thyme. That must be it."

After a beat:

"I feel bad. I'm running late for my final."

"Your final at school?"

"Yeah, this is the only final I am actually participating in. The teacher is really cool. She said 'Final? What's a final? Oh, you mean the final party!' So today we're having a potluck and clothing exchange."

"So that bag is full of clothes you are getting rid of?"

"Yes."

"How cool."

"I know."

Hearing that people were having a final like this at SF State made me seriously happy.

This made me laugh

2008-04-22T20:31:00.001-07:00

A guy got into my cab.

"Can I take you to the opera?"

"Uhhhh.."

"I mean, can you take me to the opera?"

"Yes, I can."

Poopie cabs

2008-04-22T20:01:00.000-07:00

People often complain to me how hard it is to get a cab on Friday and Saturday nights. I drive during the day on Mondays and Thursdays so I can't really help with that.

The problem is that the same number of cabs, i.e. all cabs in the city, are out at any given time. That's because it is in the cab companies' interest to have all cabs out all the time because that way they get paid for every cab for every minute of the day. This is a problem for customers because it means that during the really busy times it's hard to find a cab. And it's a problem for drivers because during the really slow times it's hard to find a fare. But that's the way the system works right now, and there is nothing I can do about it, and I have come to accept it as a driver and also as a passenger. On a recent New Year's Eve, for example, I would have liked a cab home but ended up walking the whole way because all the cabs that passed me were unavailable. That's just what happens sometimes, and it didn't make sense for me to get upset about it, especially since I have a perspective from the inside of the system and know how it works.

But I understand that it is frustrating for people who really need a cab at a busy time and can't get one. I got to experience that first-hand last Saturday.

It was about 9pm, and my boyfriend and I were on our way to the Mission from Cole Valley. We started walking down the hill of 17th Street, trying to flag down every cab that passed us. They all, well, passed us.

"Nobody is stopping for us," he said.

"Well, they are all taken."

"I don't think so."

"Yes, they are. I looked inside of every single one, and there was always somebody in the backseat."

We ended up walking all the way home, but not before my boyfriend said it well in behalf of all San Franciscans who have ever had a hard time getting a cab.

"They are all poopie cabs."

The day of huge tips

2008-04-15T11:45:00.000-07:00

It all started with the orchid tip I received that day. A woman had flagged me down at 5th and Bryant. She needed to transport about fifteen bouquets of flowers to North Beach. I found out she works at a flower shop, a family business. The first thing she gave me was a single orchid blossom. I put it on my dashboard for good luck. When we got to the shop, she ran inside and brought me a couple of orchid twigs. I love the random gifts I sometimes receive from passengers. And it seems that the good luck orchid on the dashboard definitely worked because look at what kind of tips I got that day!

A lady way out in the Sunset had called for a Green Cab. The dispatcher recommended I give her a call before driving out there to make sure that she would wait for me. I called her. She laughed and said that yes, she would wait for me.

A few minutes later, she called me back and said "Can my dog come?" I said sure.

I took her and her dog to the Richmond. We talked about Priuses, dogs and sheep. The fare was $15; she gave me $25.

Then I took an architect from Baltimore to the airport. He said that I was a nice cab driver but that many other ones weren't. He said that some of them seemed like they were on crack.

"And those Slavs, they are all racists."

"Hm." In my head, I laughed.

He paid with a credit card and asked me to calculate 20% for the tip.

"Is that the going rate for a good tip?"

"Yes, it is."

The fare was $35.50. I told him that a 20% tip would be about $7.

"Make it ten," he said.

"Thanks," I said.

Then there was the well-dressed blond woman. She was going to the Radisson at Fisherman's Wharf. I thought for sure that she was a guest at the hotel, but when she asked me if Green Cab was hiring, my assumptions about her started changing. It turned out she was concierging there. She asked me all about cab driving. How long had I been doing it? How much money was I making in a day? What did I have to do to become a cab driver? It sounded like she was seriously considering switching from concierging to cab driving, and I gave her a lot of information she didn't have before.

She tipped me really well as well.

This wasn't going to be a story until he asked for one

2008-04-08T11:40:00.000-07:00

I picked up two men in the Castro and took them to the Oakland Airport. They had been visiting a friend here in San Francisco and were going back to Dallas, TX. They asked me if I had ever been to Texas. I told them that I had been to Austin once and that I would love to visit Dallas and Houston. I told them that the reason I wanted to see more of Texas is to fight the stereotype and to form my own opinion. Then I paused and said

"You do know about the stereotype of Texas that exists here in California, right?"

"Stereotype? What? No..."

I couldn't believe that their friend hadn't told them. I told them that some of the words used to describe Texas are "hick", "cowboy", "conservative", "redneck", etc. Then I felt really bad for revealing these prejudices to their ignorant souls.

I don't remember how it came up but I also told them that I'm a writer. I told them that I write taxi stories.

Shortly before arriving at the Oakland Airport, one of the guys turned to the other and said

"I don't think she's going to write a story about us."

And that's when I knew that I was going to.

The old man

2008-04-02T11:39:00.000-07:00

His cane was on the backseat before he was. He threw it in and it hit the opposite door with a clunk. A moment ago, he had used the cane to flag me down by holding it straight up into the air. That's what old men like to do, I have noticed. I'm thinking they either find it difficult to raise up an arm, or they don't trust their arm's visibility as much as their cane's.

He was excited to be in a green cab. He thanked me about three times for driving a green cab.

At Sutter and Webster, he said

"There are some nice pink blossoms to the left, if you can catch them."

I looked over and saw some pinkly blossoming trees. "Oh yeah, they are beautiful."

"It's always so nice to see them; I'm not sure why. But I like to notice them."

"I think that blossoms can make you feel peaceful and content. That could be why."

"I think you're probably right."

I was glad he had pointed them out to me. I always appreciate people pointing out little bits of beauty.

When I dropped him off at the medical center he was going to, he apologized for being slow to get out of the car and said

"Don't ever get old, okay?"

"Okay, I won't."

"If you can help it, try not to."

"I'm always trying."

"Thank you for giving me such a nice ride."

"You are very welcome."

Irritability breeds irritable people

2008-03-24T17:38:00.000-07:00

I was being irritable today, so people started acting really irritably towards me. I take full responsibility for attracting this kind of energy to my cab today, but I also need to vent about it.

I won't even mention the guy who honked at me and flipped me off when he was already half a block past me. I'm sure it was justified, at least in his mind. But there are two people I will mention.

The first one was another cab driver. He was in the cab behind me in line at the airport. I guess I was a little slow today. The first time we started moving, I had forgotten that I had turned off my car, so it took me a few seconds to get going, and he, I guess, didn't like that. Then, when we had to pay our parking fee, I took a little bit longer than he did, so he actually ended up in front of me, but then stopped to let me go first. I passed him and waved to say thanks. I really appreciate it when drivers remember who was first and maintain the original order. It's common courtesy and practiced by most drivers. But when I passed him he yelled "Come on!" I would have preferred "You're welcome" to my thank you wave but I can let this one slide. But then. After the line stopped again, he got out of his car, and as he walked by mine he said

"You're lucky that you're cute."

And then he just kept walking and left me sitting there with my mouth agape. I wasn't quick enough to say anything back to him but what I should have said is FUCK YOU. And what if I wasn't cute? Then what? Would you yell at me some more? Would you beat me up? Would you curse me for being a little slow today?

I was really, really angry at this guy. I don't want to mention words like sexist or sexual harassment, but I felt that that comment was not only unnecessary but also completely inappropriate.

And then there were the two ladies who flagged me down at the California Pacific Medical Center. I think they tricked me out of my tip but I'm not completely sure. I might be wrongfully accusing them due to today's irritability but here is what happened.

The first lady said

"We need to go to 101 California but I only have ten dollars."

"Okay."

"If it gets to be more than ten dollars, you can just let us out at ten dollars."

"Okay. I don't think it's going to be more than ten dollars."

"Well, sometimes it isn't but sometimes it goes up to eleven. I do this ride a lot."

"I see."

I decided that I would just take the ladies to their final destination and accept the ten dollars even if it was a little more. It ended up being $9.85. So I didn't really get a tip. I saw the two ladies giggling after they got out. Maybe I'm just paranoid but here is what I suspect happened:

The lady who did all the talking gets into cabs all the time and says "I only have ten dollars." It seems smart because I suppose it ensures that the driver will hurry up and get her where she is going as fast and as cheaply as possible.

I am perfectly happy foregoing my tip if somebody is really short on cash. But I have a feeling the lady played a trick on me (and regularly plays it on other drivers as well), especially since she said she does this ride all the time. I found it a little suspect that neither of the two ladies had more cash OR a credit card. They could have paid with a credit card!

Here is why this trick is messed up, if it was indeed a trick:
- Wanting the fare to be ten dollars or less, I started speeding.
- I got practically no tip. Cab driving is not a very high-paying profession, even including tips.
- If there had been traffic, which would have been out of my control, the fare would have been higher, and she would have cheated me out of my tip AND part of the fare.

Maybe in taking this ride all the time, she noticed a difference in price and blamed it on the cab driver going too slowly or not taking the most direct route. The "I only have ten dollars" is one way to keep the driver in line. But as a rule, the driver will be in line anyway. Such a measure is not necessary. And it robs the driver of his tip and possibly more. I really hope that the lady was telling the truth and this was a one-time occurrence. If she did this regularly, that would be very irritating.

A recommendation

2008-03-17T17:19:00.000-07:00

Cab drivers love to pull up next to another cab and say something. What results is a mini exchange between two people of the same profession; then you move along.

Last Thursday I had a little time before picking up my regular customer Luc, and I hadn't eaten yet. I got a salad from Mixt Greens and then ate it in the car near Luc's location. I parked in a yellow zone on Clay between Kearny and Montgomery and put on my hazard lights. Even cabs aren't allowed to park in yellow zones, but if we turn on the hazard lights we might get away with it because the meter maids might think that we are loading, i.e. waiting for an order to come out of a building.

I noticed that a Yellow Cab was parked behind me, also in the yellow zone, also with hazard lights on. I also noticed a new Indian restaurant to my right. I decided that I wanted to eat there soon.

After a while of sitting there eating, a man came out of the Indian restaurant and got into the Yellow Cab behind me. He pulled out of the parking spot, and when he was next to me--I think both of our windows were already rolled down--he said

"If you like Indian food, you should try this place sometime."

"I love Indian food! I will definitely try it."

"Good. A friend of mine just opened it."

So today, Monday, I went there for lunch. I didn't park in the yellow zone this time because it feels too risky when you don't stay in the car. Instead I parked a couple of blocks away, on Washington and Montgomery. When I walked up to the restaurant, I noticed another Yellow Cab in the yellow zone with the hazard lights on and the trunk open. "Looks like they're loading," I thought.

Inside the restaurant I ordered Paneer Tikka Masala and sat down. And that's when none other than the cab driver from last Thursday walked by.

"You came to try it!"

"Yes, I did."

"Thank you. Have some tea."

I found out that the owner of the restaurant is his best friend.

Taxirise

2008-03-06T18:19:00.001-08:00

Taxirise
Originally uploaded by Verabug

Life can be so amazing. This morning the sunrise over the Bay Bridge was really beautiful. A red light made me stop at just the right time and place. I got out my camera, rolled down my window, took a couple of pictures and then reviewed them on my camera screen. That's when the red truck stopped to my left caught my attention. All three guys sitting in the front seat were looking at me. That picture alone was priceless. But then they all looked at me with raised thumbs and question marks on their faces. They wanted to know if the picture had turned out. I nodded and smiled, and they seemed pleased. I rolled up my window and sped off and couldn't stop laughing. Guys in trucks make my day sometimes.

How we come together

2008-02-05T13:59:00.000-08:00

I recently picked up a man at the international terminal at SFO. After a little banter, he asked

"Where are you from?"

"Germany."

He took a deep breath and said "Do you have a friend named Susan?"

"Susan? Yes. A cab driver, right?"

"Yes. She has given me your phone number three times. Your number is in my phone. She told me to call you on days she doesn't drive. She said you were a German girl."

"And why haven't you called?"

"Because I didn't know you. But now I do. Next time I will call you."

Yesterday I picked up a girl at a bus stop on Union and Webster. "Green cab," she squealed before kissing her boyfriend good-bye and sliding onto the backseat. She was going to SFO. She looked just like Lindsay Lohan.

She told me that she and her boyfriend both lived in LA but that he sometimes came up to San Francisco for business. She said she loved San Francisco. I told her that I did too.

She told me that her boyfriend owns a company that makes a green liquor.

I took a deep breath and said "What is it called?"

"Veev."

"Oh my god, I think I have met your boyfriend before. Ask him if he has ever been to Elixir."

I told her that a few months ago I and several other green cabbies had gone to a green happy hour at Elixir, and that a representative of Veev had been there, giving us samples of the liquor.

"Yeah, I'm sure that was him", she said.

Cabbie date

2008-02-05T13:52:00.000-08:00

"Where are you?"

"Geary and 25th Avenue. You?"

"In front of the Kaiser at Geary and Baker but nobody is coming out. Come hang out with me?"

"Okay. Wait for me."

A taxi van was sitting in front of the Kaiser. A little green cab pulled up behind it. And then the driver of the green cab got out and got into the van.

You think you know how open-minded you are, until you are confronted

2008-01-28T18:28:00.000-08:00

It was one of those weird early mornings where all your fares are leftovers from last night, rather than brought in fresh for today. By that I mean that I had slept whereas they hadn't.

Around 6:30am I picked up a guy at 16th and Mission. He was a fast-talker with a lot of energy, possibly on amphetamines. He offered me some food from the paper bag he was carrying. I assumed it was from McDonald's since there is one at 16th and Mission. I said no thanks.

We had to pick up his friend, who he told me was really cute, at Guerrero and 14th before traveling on to Twin Peaks. After we picked up his cute friend, the fast talker offered me a soda. He said that it was either Dr. Pepper or Coke. I like Dr. Pepper so I accepted it. After taking a few sips I was pretty sure that it was Dr. Pepper.

They talked amongst themselves. I found out that the fast talker was 44, and his cute friend was 37. I also found out that they were both HIV positive.

And that's when I freaked out. Omg, the soda! I thought. He gave me a soda, and I am drinking it. Can I get HIV from that?

Of course not, I thought, I cannot get HIV from drinking a soda that an HIV-positive person has touched.

I asked myself whether there was any way the soda I was drinking had been in contact with any of the fast talker's body fluids. I was pretty sure that there wasn't. It was in a paper cup with a lid on it, and he had handed me a wrapped straw. I had been the one to unwrap the straw. I was also pretty sure that even in the rare case that one of his body fluids had touched the soda, I still couldn't get infected. Unless I was inserting the body fluid soda mix into my vagina. Or something! I just wasn't sure!

My heart was pounding. I thought about getting tested for HIV at my earliest opportunity. Had anybody ever contracted HIV without having sex with an HIV-positive person or receiving HIV-positive blood intravenously? People like that probably existed. But I was pretty sure that nobody had ever contracted HIV by drinking a soda gifted by an HIV-positive person.

After I dropped them off in Twin Peaks, I dropped off the remaining soda at the nearest trash bin. I felt safter, but I also felt incredibly ashamed and foolish. I knew that throwing the soda in the trash was silly and unnecessary, but I also knew that I wanted a 0% risk of contracting HIV.

In hindsight, judgmental isn't the right word to describe how I feel. Ignorant is probably more accurate.

Time flies when you're having fun

2008-01-08T16:39:00.000-08:00

Has it been almost a month already since my last post? Why yes, it has. That's because I didn't drive a taxi for almost three weeks. I was on vacation and went to Germany for the Christmas and New Year's.

Yesterday was my first shift of the new year. My third passenger that morning was a guy who flagged me down at Columbus and Filbert. He said he doesn't want to go out as much on the weekends anymore. He said that Monday approaches too quickly that way. He hopes that if he just lies around all weekend doing nothing, time won't go by as quickly.

At the risk of sounding like The Bitch, I will call him The Asshole

2007-12-12T19:36:00.001-08:00

It was an obscure street, somewhere in the foothills of Twin Peaks. I had never heard of this street, much less been on it.

I arrived a little bit early. When I pulled up in front of the address, I saw somebody through the window. Cool, I thought. They can see me. They know their cab is here.

I waited for about a minute but nobody came out. I was only mildly annoyed by this. I was early after all.

I got out of the cab and knocked on the door. The Asshole opened the door, chewing and holding a plate of spaghetti.

"Did you call a cab?"

"Green Cab?"

"Yes."

"I'll be out in a sec."

You better, I thought. And you better not finish that plate of spaghetti before you come out.

As I got back into the cab, a Yellow Cab tried to squeeze by me on the narrow road. He slowed down to almost a stop and looked at me suspiciously.

The Asshole came out shortly thereafter. I don't think he had finished the spaghetti. I heard him have a conversation with the Yellow Cab driver. I didn't hear the words that were exchanged, but as he got into my cab, I heard The Asshole dismissively say "Sorry!"

"Did you call two cabs?" I asked.

"Me? No."

"Was that driver here for 112 Teslin*?"

"That's my address."

"What did the driver say to you?"

"He asked if I called two cabs but I didn't."

I knew he was lying. He had so called two cabs. He had called Green Cab and he had Yellow Cab, and he didn't want to admit it. But I could see right through him.

He had to go to Chestnut and Sansome. I didn't talk to him for the whole ride because I was mad, less for calling two cabs but for lying about it. Our eyes met in the rear view mirror once, on Larkin near Eddy, and at that moment I knew that he knew that I knew he was lying. Liar.

When we got to his destination, the meter was at $16.60.

"Here you go." He handed me a twenty.

"Thanks," I said. Then, after a beat: "Do you need any change?"

"Uh. Yeah. Give me a buck."

After he left my cab, I kept shaking with disgust that The Asshole had asked for one dollar back. That's just petty. To me, it put the icing on The Asshole. But maybe I was just mad at myself for asking if he needed change. I think he had originally intended for me to keep the change, but since I asked, he decided to take a dollar. I don't always want to assume that all the change is for me, so I ask. In this case though, I wish I had assumed.

I got on the phone to the dispatcher.

"That 112 Teslin*? He called two cabs."

"Really? Did you get him though?"

"Yes, I got him, but he called Yellow too."

"Okay. I'm putting him on our blacklist."

"Thank you."

*Address made up to protect The Asshole.

When a lawyer makes your day

2007-12-10T19:22:00.001-08:00

This wasn't the first time that a surprisingly humorous 30-something male lawyer has made my day via a really enjoyable conversation.

Today's specimen flagged me down at Castro and Market. He asked me if 2180 Montgomery was an address. I said that Montgomery was a street but that its numbers only went up to about 900. He called somebody and asked them to get back to him about where he was supposed to be going for "the deposition". Then he hung up.

"So you don't know where you're going--"

"180 Montgomery. Let's try that."

"Okay."

"I went all the way over here to Market and Castro because I thought the meeting was supposed to be here. And now I have to go all the way back. Isn't that annoying?"

"I don't know. I think it's kind of nice. You get to take a break."

"That's an interesting way of looking at things."

"Even if you don't get to do anything fun, at least you get to take a break from sitting at a desk or pushing papers or whatever else you do. I mean, I'm sure you do lots of other things than that..."

He nodded. Then he said "Well, mostly I do a lot of sitting at a desk, and pushing papers, and pulling papers." When he said the p's of the pushing and pulling, he pursed his lips as if he was doing a comedy routine. It made me laugh.

Then he said "I hope 180 Montgomery is right. If not, I might have to have you turn around and take me somewhere else."

"That's okay. I've got nothing better to do."

"Okay. That's an interesting way of looking at things."

"Well, I'm here to drive people around. So I'll take you wherever you want to go." He seemed very pleased with this.

After a while he asked me the dreaded question.

"So where are you from?"

"Germany." I looked at him in the rear view mirror and braced myself for the follow-up questions and anecdotes. Where in Germany? How long have you been here? I've been to Heidelberg. My uncle has been to Munich.

But he didn't give me any such bullshit. Maybe it's because he is Jewish, but all he did was give me one of those lips-pressed-together-tightly smile and an attempted approving nod. I wanted to hug him.

He did end up having a Germany conversation follow-up a few minutes later though: "Merkel. That's who is in charge there right now, right?"

"Yes," I laughed. I can deal with a Merkel comment. I hadn't gotten that one before. I like it when people surprise me.

I asked him where he was from. He said New York, New York. I told him that I had always been jealous of people who grew up in big cities. I felt like they had more street smarts, knew more about how the world works, had some kind of advantage over me.

"Yeah, but look at you now. Footloose and carefree in San Francisco." That made me laugh again.

I dropped him off at Montgomery and Bush and was sad that our conversation had to end. I think mostly what I liked about him was his ability to make me feel special. Saying "That's an interesting way of looking at things" twice will do that.

Earthquake Cake

2007-11-23T19:37:00.000-08:00

A very unassuming-looking guy flagged me down at Valencia and 16th in the afternoon of Thanksgiving Day. Like most passengers on Thanksgiving Day, he was carrying some food. He was going to a friend's house on Liberty and Dolores.

"So you're bringing a pie?" I asked him.

"A cake actually."

"What kind of cake?" And this was when he turned from unassuming to debonair. He cleared his throat before answering as if he felt a tinge of embarrassment.

"Earthquake cake."

"Earthquake cake?"

"Yes. It's my grandmother's recipe."

"What's in it?"

"Chocolate, cheesecake, coconut."

"That sounds delicious." I seriously considered asking him if I could try a piece but restrained myself.

"It is."

"And why is it called earthquake cake?"

"Because there is this messy cream part in the middle that you don't expect and you don't see it until you cut into the cake."

"Ah."

"I had made it last year, and all my friends had loved it. So they asked me to make it again this year but I told them no, that I didn't have enough time to make it."

"But you did make it."

"Yes."

"So you lied to your friends in order to surprise them?"

"Yes."

Costume Cabbie: A date with gonowdo.com

2007-11-21T18:22:00.001-08:00

Costume Cabbie: My big media day
Originally uploaded by Verabug

Last week I was contacted by Gina from gonowdo.com. "I am doing some work for a travel-based web startup and would love to use your taxi services for a piece we are doing about SF," her digital words said. Always eager for media appearances, I said yes and agreed to meet her by the bow and arrow sculpture on the Embarcardero at 12:30. She said they would need about an hour and a half of my time.

Jeremy, the camera guy, filmed Gina getting into the cab, and then I drove both of them to Fisherman's Wharf. Then we drove up Hyde Street and down Lombard Street and through North Beach. The whole time I was being filmed (and the city too) while answering questions about driving a taxi, doing taxi tours, Green Cab, this blog, my costumes, etc. We also stopped underneath one of those green Green Street street signs, which I have been meaning to do since I started driving for Green Cab. And we did another interview with me standing next to the cab in an alley on Russian Hill. Finally, we picked up a street flag to film and interview her briefly about what she thought of Green Cab and the Costume Cabbie. This was a long shot, but somehow we found the perfect person on Montgomery and Sutter.

Jeremy is going to review and edit all the footage he got, and the piece will eventually go up on gonowdo.com.

At one point Gina asked me "Do you find that people open up to you more because of the way you are dressed?" And later that day, towards the end of my shift, I picked up an older guy with a cane on California and Polk. He was going to 8th and Folsom. As we approached Folsom, I asked if he wanted to get out on the left or the right.

"I'm not sure actually."

"What's the place you're going to?"

He hesitated for a moment and then said "Mr. S Leather."

"Ah, cool. I know where that is." It's a leather, bondage and sex store.

"I wasn't sure if I should tell you but then I looked at you and figured you're safe."

"Yeah, I'm cool."

So yes, Gina, people do tend to open up to me more because of my appearance. Thanks again for the fun date!

Costume Cabbie: 80's Mall Goth Prom Queen

2007-11-08T18:55:00.001-08:00

Costume Cabbie: 80's Mall Goth Prom Queen
Originally uploaded by Verabug

After an admittedly way too long hiatus, Costume Cabbie is back, but who knows for how long? I don't.

Today's Costume Cabbie episode was brought to you by my new vintage dress from Held Over. Its price tag said "80's Mall Prom Goth" and then the price. It had to be mine.

While waiting in line at the airport, I called my favorite cab driver.

"So what's going on?" he asked for the third time after I had already answered the question in two different ways.

"I'm wearing a costume today."

"A costume?"

"Yes."

"What kind of costume?"

"A black one--"

"Why?"

"Because it's fun."

"Why do you wear costumes?"

"Entertainment."

"To entertain who?"

"To entertain myself and to entertain my customers."

"I think it's time you got more serious."

"What?"

"I think you need to get more serious."

"What?"

"I don't think you take your job seriously enough."

"You don't think I take my job seriously enough?"

"No."

"Huh."

My sleeve was on TV

2007-11-07T20:00:00.000-08:00

Sometime in mid-September, I was having lunch at an African restaurant when Thomas, one of the owners of Green Cab, called me.

"Where are you?" Thomas asked.

"Eating at California and Hyde."

"How quickly can you get to Civic Center?" I did some calculations in my head.

"Why?"

"They are filming something there, and they need a Green Cab." Now I was all ears. Filming!

"I'm leaving right now." With my mouth still full, I got a to-go bag for the rest of my falafel and ran to the car.

On the way to Civic Center, I talked on the phone to a guy named Liam who was to meet me there.

Two men waved at me when I drove slowly by City Hall. One of them had a camera on his shoulder. The one without the camera motioned to me to make an illegal U-turn. I looked around for cops, didn't see any and went for it. The one without the camera was Liam. He told me that the other guy would be filming him outside the car for a minute or so, then he would get into my car, and I would drive off with him.

The first time we did it, he stayed in communication with the other guy via his microphone. They agreed to do one more take. He had me drive us around Civic Center Plaza and go back to our original spot. The second time we did the routine, he had me drop him off at the next corner. He thanked me and told me that this little segment was going to be in the Going Green episode of the CBS show Eye on the Bay and was going to air on October 17th at 7pm.

I don't have a television, but my friend does, and we watched it together on October 17th, and yesterday he finally put my first TV appearance on YouTube. Enjoy.

Patience for the girl with the wig

2007-11-03T16:32:00.000-07:00

It was about 6:30 am, and I had just started my shift the morning after Halloween night and was sitting in line at the taxi stand at the Marriott on 4th Street when I heard an order over the radio for Jackson and Jones. I decided to take it and sped off.

When I got to the address I asked the dispatcher to call the person out. About five minutes later, a guy came out of the building and waved at me. I unlocked the doors but he stood outside of the passenger side door. I rolled down the window. He said "She's coming right out." I said "Okay."

I entertained thoughts of a Halloween one-night-stand. I wondered if she was going to be drunk and have smeared make-up. I wondered if she was ever going to see him again.

About another ten minutes later she finally came out. She was wearing a red dress, black fishnets and a black long-haired wig. She looked really cute. I could tell by the way she was staggering towards the cab, that she was intoxicated.

"You must be really tired," she said.

"I'm not actually. I slept all night. I just got up."

"Oh."

"What about you? Were you up all night?"

"Yeah. And now I'm done."

She told me that she lived in India and was visiting friends for a few days. The house I had picked her up from had been a friend's house. Her friends were still partying, she said, but she was done.

She had me take her to the little alley called Brady, near 12th Street, between Market and Otis. That's where she was staying with other friends.

"I'm going to have to throw rocks at their window, so that I can get in and get money and pay you."

"Oh, you don't have any money on you?"

"No."

"What if they don't hear you?"

"They will have to. Otherwise how am I going to get in?" That's exactly what I wanted to know.

I stopped on Brady when she told me to stop. I put on the hazard lights and she got out. She stood near the left rear corner of the car. She bent down to pick rocks off of the ground and threw them. Pitch patch, they made. She looked up hopefully. She bent down again to throw more. Pitch patch. She looked up again.

I was watching her in the rear view mirror. The hazard lights were flashing on and off, illuminating her and Otis Street behind us, on and off, on and off. I felt like I was in a movie, mostly because she looked like a movie star in her wig and red dress.

A car appeared from behind us and squeezed by in the narrow alley. It pulled over right in front of us. A tall guy in an orange worksuit got out of the car. I think it was a costume, some kind of astronaut or toxicity specialist costume. I wondered if he was sober. The girl talked to him for a minute. I saw her smiling.

She walked over to my window and said "That's the owner of the building. He is going to let me in."

"Wow. How lucky that he came by just now."

"I know. This whole time I was having faith and I was throwing rocks. I knew I was going to get in somehow. And then he showed up."

They disappeared into the building. The meter kept ticking. After another five minutes, she came to my window again and asked "How much do I owe you?"

"$15.45."

"Okay. I'll be right back." I couldn't believe she hadn't gotten the money yet. But I wasn't upset. Somehow she and the situation fascinated me, and I wanted to stick around to see what would happen.

Another few minutes later, she came out again and handed me a twenty through the passenger side window. The meter was now at $16.70.

I asked her if she needed any change back. She asked for two dollars back. And that's how it ended.

Out-of-auto experience

2007-10-23T16:52:00.000-07:00

The other day I was walking with a friend near his house. We were coming from Van Ness and crossed Franklin on Oak. We continued walking up Oak towards Buchanan. This means that we were walking the wrong way up a one way street. Not that it matters since we were pedestrians.

"Oh my god, I have never been here on foot before," I said.

"Hm."

"I drive by here probably several times a day when I'm driving a cab."

"Yeah?"

"Totally. But I have never walked here before."

"Huh."

"And I have never seen it from this perspective because I never go the wrong way on a one way street."

"Yeah."

"It's really weird."

"Are you having an out-of-auto experience?"

"Yes. I think I am."

"Oh my god, my feet. They are moving!"

"Exactly."

A surprise

2007-10-18T22:04:00.000-07:00

"What are you listening to?" asked the woman as we were leaving the airport to go southbound on 101. She appeared to be in her mid to late thirties, had shoulder-length medium blond hair and was wearing a gray business suit.

"Apoptygma Berzerk."

"What?"

"The name of the band is Apoptygma Berzerk."

"Oh. Wow."

"Yeah. I know. It's a crazy name."

"Yeah."

"It's an industrial band from Norway."

"Ah. Industrial. I remember industrial."

"Really?" I looked at her face in the rear view mirror and tried to picture her younger, edgier, with a different hair color.

"Yeah."

"You used to be into industrial, huh?"

"Yeah. But it was like Skinny Puppy and stuff."

"How long ago was this?"

"Like fifteen years ago? At least four hair colors ago."

"So now you're not into it anymore?" I pictured her with her blond hair and her business suit, listening to industrial with her business-suited friend.

"Well, now I'm into many different things."

"Yeah. But you still like it, right?"

"Oh yeah. You never lose it."

"You don't."

I turned up the music.

Feeling competitive towards a machine

2007-10-15T18:58:00.000-07:00

I picked up a couple at the airport, probably in their 60's. They were from Maine.

"Where are you going?"

"The Suites at Fisherman's Wharf."

"The Suites?"

"Yes. It's on Hyde Street." Even though I hadn't heard of The Suites, I knew where I was going now. There is only really one block of Hyde Street that has stuff on it and that can be considered "at Fisherman's Wharf", and that's the block between Bay and North Point.

"Okay."

"I have a GPS system if you need help."

"Oh. I don't think so."

When we were on the freeway, I heard a mechanical voice coming from the backseat. The guy had turned on his GPS device.

"Continue. on. Airport. Boulevard," the voice said.

"Are we on Airport Boulevard?" the guy asked.

"No. We're on the freeway."

"Oh."

"Continue. for. two. point. one. miles," the voice said.

"Continue. going. on. Bayshore. Boulevard."

"It says Bayshore Boulevard," the guy said.

"Bayshore Boulevard?" the woman asked.

"Well, we're on the freeway," I said. It seems his GPS device was mapping out the route without freeways. There was no way I was going to not take the freeway into the city. Nobody would ever do that, unless the traffic on the freeway had come to a complete stop, which was not the case now. It was 2pm.

"Continue. for. four. point. six. miles," the voice said.

"It says four point six miles," the woman informed me. I tried hard not to laugh.

"We're on the 101!" the guy said proudly after consulting his device.

"Yes, we are," I said.

"Is that a rainbow right there?" The guy pointed to the right. There was a rainbow floating above the bay water, very low, with Monster Park right behind it.

"Oh yes, it is! How cool," I said.

"It's right in the hah-buh," he said with his East Coast accent.

"It's beautiful," I said.

"Don't take your eyes off the road though," the guy recommended.

I merged onto 280 to continue into the city. I was going to exit King Street and take the Embarcardero all the way up to Fisherman's Wharf.

"Are we on 280 now?" the guy asked.

"Yes, we are."

"You really need one of these," he said about his GPS device. "Maybe I'll get you one for your birthday."

I laughed a genuine laugh. I thought that was a sweet and funny thing to say.

"Keep. left," the voice said when we were coming up on the 6th Street exit.

I passed the exit and merged onto King Street. I was really annoyed about the GPS device in the backseat and the fact that it was still. turned. on. I imagined the couple proudly telling their children later: "It helped the cab driver in San Francisco find our hotel!"

"This thing thinks you're all right now," the guy said.

"Oh, good." I faked a smile.

"I mean, I knew that all along.."

Sure you did, I thought to myself.

Eventually, I made a left on Bay and then a right on Hyde, and wouldn't you know it, The Suites were right there.

A note to all my future passengers: I am a cabbie. I know this city. Your GPS device doesn't know shit compared to what I know, and it does not belong in my car, especially not when it's turned on. Yes, I have issues with GPS devices, and I have issues with you suggesting that it might know a better route to where we are going than I do. Did I mention that I'm a cab driver? I fully admit that this is cabbie-ego and pride talking but just listen to me and do not turn on your GPS device in my cab. Thank you.

Germans and the porn industry

2007-10-04T20:55:00.000-07:00

I was driving on Brannan, approaching 2nd Street. A guy was standing at the intersection I was approaching, trying to flag a cab. Two cabs drove by him. I pulled over to pick him up. When he saw me, he raised his arm again and looked at me with a question mark on his face. I waved him towards me.

"It's funny how sometimes you know you are going to be somebody's cab before they do," I said after a couple of blocks.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Where are you from?"

"Germany."

"Where in Germany?"

"A small town near Düsseldorf," I went through the motions, secretly sighing with boredom.

"You like it better here?"

"Yes, much," I said, still secretly sighing with boredom.

"Hm."

"This is something that didn't really occur to me until recently: I think there is still a lot of severity left in Germany after the war."

"Yeah, that kind of thing takes generations to disappear."

"Yeah."

"But you'll also find some very open-minded individuals in Germany."

"Sure."

"I produce adult films, and Germans are very influential in that area."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I find them to be very open sexually."

"Huh."

"I think it's because Germany is not very religious. Isn't that true?"

"Yes, it is. Religion is sort of just a formality there. It's there but nobody really cares about it. It's totally on the sidelines."

"I think that's exactly why people are so open sexually."

"Wow. I always thought that Germans were rather closed and repressed."

"Yes, I think they are, on the outside, as a formality."

"But once you get past that--"

"--they are very open."

"And you think it's the absence of religion that creates that?"

"Yes."

"Wow. I'm actually proud of my people right now."

"Haha."

"Thank you for giving me that new perspective."

"You're welcome."

Apparently that was all he had

2007-10-04T20:38:00.000-07:00

Right after I had made a right onto Taylor from Market, a woman flagged me down. She had a cell phone pressed to her ear and looked surprised that I stopped. She hopped in and said "Can you take me to California and Larkin, please." Then she said into the phone "Baby, baby, where are you right now? ---- Okay. ---- Okay, I'm coming right now."

"Can you go to Golden Gate and Jones, please?" she said to me.

"O...kay." It was a block away.

"Please. Thank you."

"O...kay. And then we're still going to California and Larkin?" I was a little nervous. We were in Crack Central.

"Yes. We're just going to pick him up. He'll be waiting at the corner. A black man. Very handsome."

I made a left on Turk, a left on Jones and another left on Golden Gate. She told me to pull over on the left. I heard her say into her phone "Baby, baby, where are you? I'm here with the taxi but I don't see you. ---- Please get into the taxi at the corner."

On the sidewalk was a pile of a human slumped against the wall. I looked into the rear view mirror and saw a hand holding a cell phone. The hand was attached to a tall body getting into my car.

"So everything went well with you today?" the handsome black man said to the woman in the backseat as he slid in. He seemed to be in a good mood.

"Yes yes, " she said. "I just needed to find an ATM. How much is it?"

I didn't catch his response but I did hear him say "Here."

"Is that all you have?" she said.

"Yeah," he said.

"Can you pull over and let him out?"

"Pull over? Right here?" I said. We were at Taylor again, just past Turk.

"Yes, please just let him out." I pulled over on the left.

"You guys have a nice day!" the handsome black man said and got out.

"Bye!" I said.

Then I took the woman and her drugs to California and Larkin.

Another driver's stories

2007-09-22T09:17:00.000-07:00

Last night I had coffee with my favorite cab driver. He has been a San Francisco driver for twelve years.

"So what's your favorite taxi story?" I asked him.

He told me about a couple in their 60's who were making out in the back of the car. It involved an exposed nipple. He took them from a fancy restaurant in San Francisco all the way to Lafayette. The nipple made its appearance on the Bay Bridge.

"So that's your favorite, huh?" I asked. He nodded.

Then he told me another one. The night driver of his taxi had taken a woman to the Hyatt Regency the night before. She had asked the night driver if he could take her to the airport at 5 in the morning. The night driver had told her that he would be off by then but that he would send the day driver. The night driver then wrote down her name, her phone number, and that she wanted to be picked up from the Hyatt Regency and taken to the airport at 5am. The night driver put the piece of paper behind the car visor. When my friend started his shift at 4am the next morning, he didn't see the note behind the visor. He started out in the Sunset that morning, and his first fare brought him from the Sunset over to 101 California, a mere two blocks from the Hyatt Regency. My friend said he never waits in hotel lines but this time there was not a single cab in line at the Hyatt Regency. He thought to himself "Hm, I'm first in line" and pulled up. A woman was standing at the hotel entrance with luggage. She said "You were supposed to pick me up. You are late." He ignored her scolding, told her to get in and took her to the airport. Later that day, when he was getting gas, he found the note behind the visor. It dawned on him that he had picked up the woman he was supposed to pick up without knowing it.

Somehow I liked this story much better than the first one.

"You're psychic," I beamed at him.

"There was something," he said.

Gifts

2007-09-18T20:47:00.000-07:00

In May I took a woman to a little alley in Noe Valley. She told me that I looked like an elf. She also told me about this book that talks about different types of magical creatures and how you can find out which one you are. Starpeople, she said, might have a spiritual beam going up from their shoulder that connects them to a starship. I made it apparent that this book sounded very interesting to me. When we got to her house, she asked me to wait for a few minutes. When she returned, she handed me a little tiny book by Doreen Virtue called Earth Angels: A Pocket Guide for Incarnated Angels, Elementals, Starpeople, Walk-Ins, and Wizards. She said she didn't need it anymore, but that I did.

The day after the 4th of July I picked up a guy in the Richmond and took him to the Haight. He told me he worked at a restaurant called Pres a Vi in the Presidio. I had never heard of it, and he said that I should come see him sometime. If he had said to stop by, I probably wouldn't have but since he said to come see him, I actually considered it. It made it more personal or something.

That Saturday I took myself and a friend to Pres a Vi. First we sat at the bar and sipped expensive cocktails while we watched my new friend make such cocktails. We each had two, and then we moved over to a table to eat dinner. When we were done eating, we received our check but it didn't have the drinks on it, only the food. I called our waiter and told him that the drinks were missing from our bill. He said "Louie took care of it." My new friend had just hooked us up with $40 worth of cocktails. We tipped him $20 and were very pleased.

A few weeks ago a guy who works for Apple was in my cab. I asked him if it was true that Apple had given every single one of their employees an iPhone. He confirmed the rumor. I told him that I had recently played with an iPhone and that I was considering buying one. He asked me what I didn't like about the iPhone. I told him that sometimes the phone got stuck in locked mode. I also told him that I heard that the headphone jack doesn't fit standard headphones, and that that was no good. I also told him that sometimes the phone didn't respond fast enough to changes in screen orientation. He told me to give him my email address and that he would give me 15 to 20% off when I was ready to buy my iPhone.

Gifts happen.

Blue? How about green?

2007-09-17T18:24:00.000-07:00

"Is Green Cab a new company?" the lady that had called from Fulton and Divisadero asked.

"Yes." She was distracted by the dog she was leaving behind; that's why I kept my answer short.

"How cool," she said when her attention had returned.

"How did you find out about us?"

"Well, I wasn't going to call Yellow."

"Uh-huh."

"I mean, they are big but they are rude."

"Uh-huh."

"To be honest, I was going to call the one with the blue and white cars."

"DeSoto!"

"Yes. But I didn't remember their name. So I called 411. And I said to the operator 'I was going to ask for the blue cab company, but just get me any cab company.' And the operator said 'Any cab company?' And I said 'Yes', and he said 'Well, blue.. How about green?' And I said 'Sure', so he called the green cab company for me."

"Wow," I suddenly had a huge smile on my face, "that is so cool!"

That 411 operator sounds like a cool, green person. We need more people like him around.

The cookbook author from Salt Lake City

2007-09-06T23:18:00.000-07:00

I had this lady in my cab today. She has written three cookbooks and was on her way to a meeting with Chronicle Books to talk about her next book. I envy her. I want to talk to Chronicle Books about my next book.

Ahmed* and Vera, sitting in a tree

2007-08-25T09:32:00.000-07:00

"So when are we gonna get together?" he had asked me at the airport last week.

"I don't know," I had said.

"Do you like to take a break when you're working?"

"Oh yeah."

"Maybe we can have lunch then."

"Yes."

"When do you work?"

"Mondays and Thursdays."

"Okay. I'll call you Thursday."

"Okay."

My cell phone rang at 10:20am on Thursday.

"Hi Ahmed!"

"Hi Vera. How are you?"

He asked me if I wanted to have lunch that day. I said yes. He said that he was at the airport and that he would call me when he was back in the city.

At 12:01 my phone rang again.

"Hello?"

"Hey. Where are you?"

"Washington and Battery."

"Oh. I'm at Washington and Front."

"No way. Haha. That's perfect."

"Yes, it is. Pull over and wait for me, and then you can follow me."

"Okay."

Two minutes later, his taxi van passed me. We waved at each other and then I followed him. He made the light at California and Sansome but I didn't. A minute later I knew why because as I was waiting at the light my friend Rosie turned from Sansome onto California and waved at me. If I hadn't had to stop at the light I would never have seen her. I love when that happens.

But I didn't want to miss any more lights so I sped up. Just then Ahmed made a left off of California between Kearny and Grant, the secret cab driver alley to get to Pine that I didn't know much about. I almost missed the turn but barely made it. On Pine Ahmed slowed down. I was thankful. I also started thinking how funny it would be if one of us picked up a flag. But there were no people flagging us down, so that temptation didn't exist, only the temptation to have lunch with a crush even when there is a marriage involved.

We both parked on the left side of Jones between Post and Geary. We went to an Indian restaurant. Ahmed told me that this area was called Little India. I had not known that.

I had Mixed Vegetable Korma and he had Chicken Tikka Masala, and we had rice and naan and water. We talked about dispatchers, our brothers and sisters, what we wished our parents had done differently. We talked about our different cultures and upbringings and what kinds of things the people from our cultures typically struggle with. He told me that in his culture, people don't have time for emotions. "You just keep going", he said. I told him that I had a lot of emotional problems. He told me that on average he has about ten fares to and from the airport every day. I was shocked. The most I had ever had was six, I think, and the average was about three. He paid for lunch. How cute, I thought, just like a date.

On the way back to our cars he said "Now I have a German friend." "Yep!" I said.

When we got to his car, there was a parking ticket on it. "Awwww", I said.

*Name changed to protect the married cab driver.

She seemed like a nice enough person

2007-07-29T13:10:00.000-07:00

A guy and a girl got in at the airport. I think they were in their mid to late 30's. The girl might have been a little older than the guy. They both seemed upbeat.

"We're not going far," the guy said. "We're going to the Uhaul station near the airport. Do you know where that is?"

"No."

"I have directions." He handed me a Mapquest printout.

"Thank you."

According to the printout, the Uhaul station was only two miles from the airport. It was the shortest fare from the airport I had ever had.

"What are you doing at the Uhaul station?"

"Moving her to Vegas!" the guy beamed. "Well, she's moving herself. I can't drive. Too many DUI's!"

"Woops." I looked at the girl. "So you live here now?"

"Yeah, I lived here all my life."

"You lived in the Bay Area all your life, and now you're moving to Vegas?"

"Yes." She giggled.

"She met that special guy!" the guy beamed.

"Ah."

"Do you live in San Francisco?" the guy asked me.

"Yes."

"Are you a hippie?"

I paused. "No."

"A tree hugger?"

"No. But I do care about the environment. That's why I drive this green cab."

"Sorry, I shouldn't say tree hugger."

"Well."

We were on El Camino Real in San Bruno now.

"I'm surprised there aren't any gays," the guy said, looking around. "I thought they would be everywhere."

"Not here," said the girl. She giggled but it was an uncomfortable giggle. To me it felt like the giggle of a person who wants to be supportive of their companion but at the same time thinks that he or she is being an ass.

"I thought they would be everywhere, you know," the guy said to me. "Those gays, you know."

I didn't know what to say.

"How did you guys meet?" is what I said next.

"Drug rehab."

Green Cab wins Best Low-Emissions Transmission

2007-07-26T18:47:00.001-07:00

Green Cab is Best of the Bay 2007!
Originally uploaded by Verabug

Last week a photographer from the Guardian visited Green Cab. I was just getting off my shift, and the photographer asked if I would like to be in the picture for the Guardian. Always the ham, I said sure.

And yesterday that picture appeared in the paper. Green Cab won Best of the Bay 2007: Best Low Emissions Transmission.

I'm glad I wore something green that day.

An unexpected Lolita

2007-07-19T22:57:00.000-07:00

A guy flagged me down at Mission and 29th. I had just completed a series of U-turns and somehow ended up in the right place at the right time, to give this guy a ride.

"Can you take me to Webster and Sacramento, please?" He said this with an accent, which I thought might be Arabic. But I'm not very good at detecting accents. 9 out of 10 times I mistake people from London for Australians.

"Sure. The medical building?"

"Yes."

We were both quiet for a long time. He smelled really, really good. It was a very sweet smell, the kind I would wear on myself. I like sweet perfumes. I wanted to say to him that he smelled like cotton candy. But it felt weird to say something like that.

As we passed the Turk street sign on Webster, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Are you wearing cologne?"

"What?"

"Are you wearing cologne?"

"Yes, uh, I am."

"It smells really good. I like it a lot."

"Oh, thank you. It's Lolita Lempicka. It's French."

"What is it called?"

"Lolita Lempicka."

"I really like it."

"It's like chocolate, cocoa,..."

"Yes, it's very sweet."

"Yes."

"Is it for men?"

"No. It's for women."

"You're wearing women's perfume?"

"Yes."

"That is so cool."

"Thanks."

"I have never met a guy who wore women's perfume. I think more guys should do that. It's awesome."

"I know many guys who wear women's perfume."

"You do?"

"Yes, many."

"I love it."

"Thank you." I think he giggled a little bit. I thought I heard a sound of amusement from the backseat.

He gave me a huge tip.

Apparently there are many guys who wear women's perfume. Why haven't I met any of them?

I swear to god

2007-07-06T19:12:00.000-07:00

I was driving home another taxi driver at the end of his shift. Let's call him Tack. He was in the backseat.

"Somebody smoked crack in this cab!"

"How do you know?" I turned around.

"There is crack on the backseat!" He was holding a piece of white matter between two fingers.

"Really?" I made a wincing face.

Tack put the white matter on the center divider between the two front seats. He got out his lighter.

"See, here," he said and tried to light the white matter with the lighter.

"How do you know?"

"Never mind," he said, "if it was crack, it would melt. It's just a crumb."

I continued making a wincing face. A few minutes passed.

"I swear to god, there is crack on the backseat!" Tack put another piece of white matter on the center divider between the two front seats. He tried to light it again. It didn't melt.

"Maybe not," Tack said. "You should vaccuum this car.

"If it really is crack, will the police be able to arrest me?"

"No. It's on the backseat. You have nothing to do with the backseat."

"Okay, good." I decided not to vaccuum the car. A few more minutes passed.

"I swear to god, Vera, somebody smoked crack in here!" Tack continued pulling pieces of white matter out of the backseat and putting them on the center divider between the front seats to show me. And to light them. I turned my head to the right and down to look at it. This one melted a little bit.

"See!" Tack yelled victoriously.

"Is it really crack?"

"I swear to god."

"Wouldn't the cab driver have known?"

"Maybe he smoked with them!"

"Maybe."

"You never know."

Maybe somebody had smoked crack in the backseat of the car I drove that day. Tack certainly seemed very excited about the possibility.

A Messenger of Synchronicity

2007-06-29T17:18:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I check out boys on bicycles as I drive by them. Sometimes, if I see one that's especially cute, I even squeal and/or giggle. I am a girly and more introverted version of the hollering and whistling construction worker.

A couple of months ago I saw the same boy on a bicycle about four times in one week. "What a weird coincidence," I thought. The next week my friend and fellow taxi driver Susan and I met at Atlas Cafe for coffee. As I parked my car, I saw the same bicycle boy again, locking up his bike in front of Atlas. "What an even weirder coincidence," I thought. I walked up to him and said "Hey. I see you everywhere, riding your bike. And now here you are again." I told him that I was a taxi driver. He told me that his name was Sean and asked me to please not run him over. I always think it's weird when people ask me that. Why would I ever run anybody over?

Recently, while walking near my house, I saw him and his bike again. We still remembered each other's names and chatted briefly.

This week I waved at him from my Green Cab once as I was dropping somebody off, and today, while driving a DeSoto cab, on Drumm Street I suddenly had a guy on a bicycle in front of me that I almost ran over. I slowed down and thought "Oooo, I like his style." As I passed him, I turned my head, and sure enough, it was Sean. We waved at each other. About half an hour later I saw him again, pushing his bike on Battery Street. I pulled over, rolled down my window and said "Sean!"

"Hey." He walked over to my car.

"So how come I see you everywhere? Do you just ride your bike around all day long?"

"Pretty much."

"For what?"

"It's my job."

"Are you a bike messenger?"

"Yeah."

"Ahhhh. Now that makes sense."

Everything was making sense now. Also, it seems inevitable for taxi drivers and bike messengers to get to know each other. I'm surprised it took me this long to meet one.

Oh no, you didn't

2007-06-18T18:39:00.000-07:00

After we talked about which way I should go to take him to the Saint Francis medical building, he asked

"Are you a native San Franciscan?"

"No. I grew up in Germany."

"I have been to England, France and Amsterdam. But I have never been to Germany."

"Ah."

"I would love to go to Germany and take a tour of all the concentration camps." I was fascinated by his mouth when he spoke. His face was a stiff mask, but his lips formed different shapes. Nothing else in his face moved when he spoke.

"Yeah, that would be an experience."

"What do you think about the new law that makes it illegal to deny that the holocaust happened? I think you can go to jail for that now."

"I generally don't like those kinds of laws. They infringe upon freedom of speech."

"Yeah, but those are lies."

"So you're in favor of the law?"

"Well, somebody has got to do something about those lies. If you were a politician, you could never get away with saying anything that condones genocide. Like if you said anything in favor of killing jews, or blacks, or Native Americans, you would never get anywhere as a public figure."

"But denying that something happened and being in favor of genocide are two different things, aren't they?"

"I think anybody that denies any kind of genocide is very suspect. They are probably in favor of genocide. Why else would they lie about it?"

"Maybe they just don't want to believe that the world could be that bad? Maybe they just don't want to believe that people could do something that horrible to each other?"

"I don't know."

"Like with the Native Americans--" I was going to say regarding Native Americans, that maybe patriotic Americans don't want to believe that their country ever committed genocide, so they try to tell themselves that it never happened. But he interrupted me.

"Well, we had to kill the Native Americans."

"What?"

"We had to build railroads from the east to the west, and they didn't want that."

For the remainder of our time together, which luckily was only a few blocks' worth, I was very annoyed. Yes, it's a lie to say that the holocaust never happened. But it's also a lie to say that we had to kill the Native Americans.

Miguelito

2007-06-14T19:33:00.000-07:00

As a cab driver, you should always have at least one ten, one five and five ones on you. At least that's what makes me feel safe from embarrassment in case somebody gives me a twenty.

Around noon today I was completely out of small bills and really needed to pee. I had just dropped somebody off at Church and Duboce and decided to go into the Safeway to take care of those two needs. A guy walking up Church raised his hand to flag me down. I shook my head no and pulled into the Safeway parking lot. I was determined to pee and get small bills. I was about to pull into a spot when I heard "Taxi!" coming from the left. A guy was sitting near the entrance with a cart full of shopping bags. Something made me say

"Where are you going?"

"Financial district." I knew that I had to pick up a couple at Union Square in half an hour, so this was the perfect segue fare.

"I have no change at all. Do you have small bills?"

"Yes, I have, " he said with a Mexican accent.

Ignoring my bladder, I helped him load his grocery bags into the trunk. On the way to the financial district, he told me that the groceries were for his deli. He said the deli was inside the Equinox gym on Pine and Sansome. He said that the food there was Mexican and healthy. I told him that I wanted to come check it out some day and that I was always looking for new places to get a good snack while driving.

He gave me a little card with a magnetic strip.

He said it was a discount card for $3 off. I thanked him and said

"That little guy on it is so cute!"

"Thass me when I wass five yiss ole."

I laughed loudly and turned around, in love with what he had just said.

"That's you when you were five years old? That is so cute!"

"My friend help me dessign it."

"I love it. And I love sombreros. The bigger the better."

"Sometime I use sombrero as umbrella."

I turned around again, even more in love. He told me that his mom used to sell food. His first job ever was to open coke bottles for customers. He said he was five years old. One time it was raining, and the sombrero kept him dry.

When I dropped him off at Pine and Sansome, he gave me two fives and seven ones. After I picked up the couple at Union Square and dropped them off at the airport, I peed.

The sound of the airport

2007-06-14T19:13:00.000-07:00

Aside from the sound of engines starting, which I documented recently, there is another omnipresent sound at the airport: The ka-chuck sound the speed bumps make when a taxi drives down into the lot. I tried to record that sound on video today, with varying success. The last minute of this first video is rather sad and silent.

This very short video captures the sound I am talking about.

We hear it at the airport all day long. It echoes throughout the entire area. "Ka-chuck" says that another taxi has arrived and is about to file into the queue.

While I was filming the last video, which I did not post, a driver walked up to me and asked me if I was filming something. I told him and several others who had asked me before him that yes, I was recording the sound that the ramp makes. "You know, that ka-chuck sound?" Of course they all knew what I was talking about. This particular guy said "You are saying that you are in love with this sound?" I laughed and said that yes, that was exactly what I was saying.

Lucky

2007-06-11T17:48:00.000-07:00

"I'm going to Summerfield Suites in Pleasant Hill. Do you know where that is?" the guy at the airport asked.

"No. Do you?"

"No. I'm from New Jersey." There was something very sweet and innocent about him when he said this.

"It's okay. I can find out, " I assured him and opened the trunk.

As we pulled away from the terminal, I called Buzz, the dispatcher, on the phone, and he referred me to Jeff, who knows the East Bay like the back of his hand. Jeff gave me directions. He also told me the estimated fare. It made my heart jump.

The guy in my cab made a couple of phone calls on the way there, and we chatted a little here and there. He was the national sales manager of a technology company, in town for several meetings. As we got closer to Pleasant Hill, I asked him to tell me the exact address of the hotel one more time. He looked it up on his blackberryesque gadget.

"It's 2611 Contra Costa Boulevard."

"Thank you."

After a beat, I said

"It's funny that it's 2611 because today is 6/11."

"Oh. Yeah."

"I always love little things like that."

"I totally missed that." Of course you did, I thought to myself. Only a numbers nut like me would notice such a thing.

"I always think that it means that things are as they should be, that you're in the right place at the right time. I think it means that you're going to have good luck during your stay here. Is there anything at stake in the meetings you are going to?"

He told me that there actually was something at stake. He said that he could either receive good news or bad news.

When we arrived at the Summerfield Suites, he asked me what my name was. I told him, and he told me that his name was Jeff.

"There is another coincidence. Your name is Jeff, and the guy who gave me the directions to get here, his name is Jeff too."

"Oh. Wow."

"I think that you're going to have really good luck here."

Jeff got lucky. And I did too because the fare was $135 plus tip.

Another person's day made

2007-06-11T17:18:00.000-07:00

It was one of those days where I'm in a bad mood, so of course every single passenger in my cab was in a bad mood too.

The woman I was taking to the airport seemed to be in a bad mood too. Not terribly bad, but definitely not good either. We made some half-assed attempts at conversation but nothing really clicked. But I was ready to turn my day around and thought that maybe she was too. So I didn't give up.

"Have you ever been to a non-traditional wedding?" I asked.

"I don't think so," she answered as we passed a big dead bird on the side of the freeway.

"I went to one last night. It was a big masquerade ball and circus show. Lots of elaborate costumes. Circus freaks, clowns, pirates, Victorian gowns."

"Wow. Cool."

"I think the reason I asked you is that I think you would look really good in one of those big, elaborate Victorian gowns." It's true. I really thought that.

"Oh... Really?" She smiled, and her eyes got big and blue. For the first time, I saw an actual expression on her face.

She then told me that her family had been "big into the Victorian stuff." She told me that she had seen many pictures of her great grandmother, wearing "one of those big pins" and "those big ruffles."

"Maybe one of these days for Halloween, " she said.

When she got out of the car at the airport, there was a spark in her eyes. I felt like something had just shifted for her. And something had definitely shifted for me.

Cabbie crush update

2007-06-07T00:38:00.001-07:00

So I found out today that the cab driver I have a crush on is married. With children, no less.

Also, the guy who works at the airport and directs us to the terminals (hi Romano!) started reading my blog yesterday. Today he asked me

"Who is your crush? The DeSoto driver?"

I grinned.

"Which one is he?"

"I'm not telling."

Now I'm especially not telling. He's married! I had to pull over the car today to cry for a minute or two and feel very sorry for myself. That crush was so exciting, and now it's a moot point. I hate when that happens.

An unintelligible hot tip

2007-06-05T23:35:00.000-07:00

I was at the airport, and I was walking from one lot to the other like I always do. This tall long-legged skinny dude was walking from the other lot to my lot like he always does. We always seem to be in different lots, crossing paths. I am always looking for Mustapha, and he is always looking for I don't know what.

When our paths crossed this time, I said "Hi."

"Mary Porter 700 today, " he said in a heavy Indian accent. I had expected him to have an accent but not one that heavy.

"What?"

"Mary Porter 700 today."

"I don't understand."

"Mary Porter 700 people today."

"Mary who?"

"Mary Porter 700 airport."

"Huh?"

"Today."

"Is that a person?"

"No. Married Porter 700 airport."

"Married what?" I was wondering if he was asking me if I was married.

"Married Port."

"I don't understand."

"Married Hotel."

"Marriott Hotel?"

"Yes. Marriott 700 people airport today."

"Which Marriott?" I finally got it. He was trying to tell me that 700 people were going to be leaving the Marriott today to go to the airport. He was trying to tell me to sit in line at the Marriott because I would probably get an airport out of it.

"Marriott Port Street." There is no Port Street in San Francisco.

"Polk Street?"

"No, Port."

"Polk?"

"Port."

"P-O-L-K?" I spelled it out.

"No, F-O-U-R," he spelled.

"F-O-U-R?"

"Yes."

"Four. MARRIOTT on FOURTH STREET!"

"YES!"

"Fourth and Market."

"Yes."

"Thanks!"

Cabbie crush

2007-06-01T20:12:00.001-07:00

So I have a huge crush on another DeSoto cab driver. I never thought this would happen. I have seen the other drivers, and while I have become friends with quite a few of them, I had never really seen one that is my type. The most likely candidate for me to develop a crush on turned out to feel more like a friend.

The guy I have a crush on is not my type at all. But when I was talking to him at the airport last week, I noticed that he has a really nice smile. And every time I have seen him after that, my heart has been pounding like crazy, and I felt other very interesting things in my body, and suddenly I can't get my mind off of him. It's a full on bodily crush.

Last year I came up with this fantasy. I made up a person in my head who lives in San Francisco and who has a crush on me and who knows that I'm a cab driver and who, every time he sees the blue DeSoto colors zoom by, turns around to see if it's me. My fantasy included a full scene where this person sees a blue DeSoto cab in the reflection of a store window and quickly turns around to look for his beloved, much like Pee Wee Herman in the movie Pee Wee's Big Adventure turns around when he sees the reflection of a bike because he thinks it might be his beloved bike that has been lost.

And now I am that person. I am the person from my fantasy who turns her head every time she sees a blue DeSoto cab to see if it's my crush. Sometimes I even turn my head for a mere reflection, and then sometimes I have to realize that it was my own reflection. I do, after all, drive a blue DeSoto cab too.

Costume Cabbie: The Amy doll

2007-05-29T18:38:00.001-07:00

Costume Cabbie: Lady Leblanc live action doll
Originally uploaded by Verabug

It was Memorial Day. The End Up was open until 2pm. I spent the first couple of hours picking people up at the End Up and taking them to wherever they were going. I was driving for DeSoto that day. The first time I stood in the taxi line at the End Up, the Green Cab that I have been driving, number 914, pulled up behind me. I knew that Brad Newsham, who this blog has been linking to since its birth, owns the medallion for number 914. That Brad was driving for them had been one of many things that validated my decision to switch to Green Cab.

I got out of my car and knocked on the Green Cab's window. He thought I was a club kid that had come out of the End Up. Of course he did. I looked just like one.

"Are you Brad?" I said.

"Yes."

"Hi. I'm Vera Fleischer." I held out my hand. He looked at me befuddledly. I told him that I had emailed him many months ago and asked about his cab stories that had been published in the Chronicle and told him that I was an aspiring published writer of cab stories myself. That seemed to ring a bell for him. I also told him that I now drive his cab for Green Cab sometimes. We talked for a while, and he ended up giving me a copy of one of his books, All the Right Places, which I started reading in line at the airport later that day. It made me smile many times.

One of my fares from the End Up was a girl with luscious lips and a bearded hooded guy. They had just met. They invited me to join them for breakfast at IHOP where I dropped them off. I declined. They also invited me to play "slaps and tickles" with them.

"Did I say that out loud?" the guy said.

"Yes, you did, " said the girl.

Another fare from the End Up were two guys. After we dropped off the first one, I said to the second one

"So I have a crush on this other cab driver. I just heard his name on the radio, and now I'm feeling all excited."

"Does he drive for the same company as you?"

"Yes."

Later that day I picked up two guys from Portland at Sutter and Kearny. They had to go to the airport. About half-way to the airport, I noticed my pink and black arms and legs, and I was feeling a lot like a doll. I said

"What do you call those dolls that are modeled after celebrities? Just dolls?"

"Yeah, I think so. They are dolls."

"Like, the Brittney Spears doll?"

"Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"Because I look like my friend Amy today. I'm the Amy doll."

"So what's your name, Amy doll?"

"Vera." My mind blew for a moment, thinking about names and identities, actors and characters, souls and bodies.

At the end of my shift, the gas man said

"You look very nice today."

"Thanks!"

"It's like... wait. It's... it's the raver style!"

"Yeah. Kind of."

He looked at me proudly.

Cabbie discount

2007-05-27T19:07:00.000-07:00

When I saw my friend Stephen on Friday evening, he said

"I was just thinking about you about fifteen minutes ago."

"How come?"

"I was at Farley's, and a guy walked in and ordered a coffee with the cabbie discount."

"Cabbie discount?"

"Yeah. He got a free coffee and just tipped the guy."

I have never heard of a cabbie discount. I wonder how many other places offer this. I intend to get to the bottom of this.

Green Day

2007-05-16T18:06:00.000-07:00

My Green Cab id
Originally uploaded by Verabug.

Today I drove a Green Cab for the first time. It was super fun. I love that little Prius. It's so zippy and shiny and brand new. It reminds me a little of my Beetle.

I arrived at the lot at 6am and was greeted by Mark who gave me the keys and who taught me about the Prius because it's quite different from a regular gasoline car. Mark also gave me my Green Cab id! It was an awesome surprise. Apparently, Thomas had found some pictures of mine online and used one for my id. Normally you have to have your picture taken at Civic Center, but this worked out so much better! I love my id. And I love that I'm wearing green in it.

I picked up my first customer at Castro and Market. It was the sweetest old black man with coke bottle glasses. I said "Welcome to the Green Cab!" He said "Yeah, I thought you were the new cab on the block." He told me he used to drive a postal car, but that he retired in 1974. He told me that he had five children, eleven grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren. He said that he had six sisters, but the oldest and the youngest had died already. He was now the oldest of his living siblings. He was going to a house in Hunter's Point.

When we got there, a woman greeted us. It was one of his granddaughters. He told her excitedly that this was a Green Cab, a hybrid, and that it was my first day and that he was my first customer. He sounded like a little boy who is telling his mother what happened at school that day. I told him that it was nice to meet him and we shook hands.

"Have fun with the Green Cab!" he said.

"I'm the new cab on the block!" I said.

I continued to tell all my customers that day about the Green Cab. I became an instant spokesperson. I never thought I would enjoy something like that, but I totally did. I loved putting out the word about Green Cab. I want everybody to start calling them: 415.626.GREEN.

I also loved how many heads I turned. I got attention everywhere I went. I could tell that people were curious about this bubbly green taxi they had never seen before. It made me want to wave at everybody.

I can't wait for my next shift.

This is what a Green Cab looks like

2007-05-08T17:19:00.001-07:00

This is what a Green Cab looks like
Originally uploaded by Verabug.

I had my second interview with Green Cab today. Things are looking good. I might start driving for them as early as next week.

Live from the airport

2007-05-01T20:18:00.000-07:00

I make it a habit now of waiting in line to pick up a passenger at the airport after I have dropped somebody off. I ended up at the airport around 1pm today. I find the scene fascinating down there. That's why I recorded several videos today.

In the first one I was trying to record the sound of engines starting up as cabs are getting ready to keep moving, but right when I started recording, the cars stopped moving, so all you hear is some Arabic (I think?) being spoken around me and some commentary by me about which cab colors I like best.

In the second one you actually hear some engines starting up, some cabs leaving the lot and new ones filing in, and in the end you hear me say "Oh shit!" because I realized that it's my turn to turn on my own engine and keep moving. It was hilarious. But maybe you had to be there and be me.

The third video takes place in the last lot before the terminal, and I am starting to get very excited.

The last video was shot at the terminal. I was minutes away from getting my fare.

Ah, airport adventures.

Airport adventures

2007-04-26T18:40:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite parts of taxi school was our field trip to the airport where the teacher piled all of us students into a taxi van and drove us down to the San Francisco Airport to show us the "underbelly of the world of taxis", as my friend Philo likes to call it. There are several different lots of waiting taxis, several different booths you have to pass and lots of rules and regulations. It's complicated at the airport when you're a taxi trying to get a fare.

That's why it took me over a year of driving to dare descend into the underbelly. But today I did. After I had dropped off my first fare of the day at the airport, I followed another taxi through the airport turnaround and into the overflow lot. I wasn't sure if I was going to stay but when I saw a Green Cab way ahead of me in line, I knew that I was.

The taxi in front of me was a yellow and green National cab, number 2976. I appreciated this because 2/9/76 is the birthday of a dear friend of mine. A friendly driver milling about reminded me to turn off my engine.

Philo had been encouraging me to do the airport thing for weeks. He said that being there makes you feel a sort of solidarity because there are cabs everywhere, all in one place, all the different ones, together as one. And he was right. There were cabs everywhere, blue cabs, yellow cabs, beige cabs, black cabs, green cabs. Since I love driving a cab, being down there and looking around at all the cars and their drivers filled me with love.

When I got to the sunny second lot, I got out of my cab and walked towards the cab in front me. The driver eyed me in his side mirror. I was afraid that he was going to be unfriendly and said "Hi." He said "Hi, how are you doing" and smiled. He wasn't unfriendly at all. I said "Good!" He said "You look good!" and smiled even more. I said "Thanks!" I was feeling great that day. I asked "We're going to be here for a while, right?" He said something about waiting and lines and turns and moving, and I said "I was going to use the bathroom." He pointed to where they were, then got out of his car and said "Here, I'll go with you."

As we were walking, he held out his hand and said

"I'm Byron."

"I'm Vera. Byron. Is that B-Y-R-O-N?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. I'm reading a book right now by a woman named Byron."

"A woman named Byron!"

"Yeah."

After I used the bathroom, Byron told me a lot more about airport procedures. He also said "Just follow me."

When it was our turn to move again, we had to drive by the attendant and pay four dollars. Byron, as he was driving in front of me, held his hand out of the window with the parking stub and four dollars in it to show me what I needed for the next step. I thought that was the sweetest thing.

We were now in the third lot. I looked for the Green Cab everywhere but couldn't find it. I wanted to talk to the driver because I want to become a Green Cab driver too.

The row that Byron filed into was full by the time I got there, so Byron pointed to the row next to his, out of which cars were just leaving. When I got towards the end, Byron was out of his car and hurrying towards me. I said "Stop at the front, right?" He said "Yes, stop." I guessed correctly that if I had piled out of the row with the cars in front of me, the others rows of cars would have gotten angry at me because it wasn't my turn yet. Byron said "Stay here until you see me leave, and then follow me."

When it was our turn again, I followed Byron past another attendant. The attendant handed me a piece of paper indicating which terminal to go to. I had seen that Byron had received the same color paper so I followed Byron to Terminal 3 I think it was. There were about eight cars ahead of me. Byron got out of his car and stood next to my window.

"So tell me about this Byron book," he said.

"It's about living in the moment. It's about accepting reality exactly as it is and not arguing with it or trying to change it."

"Yeah. Because if you resist it, you're just going to be unhappy."

"Exactly."

Shortly after that it was my turn to receive a passenger. He had to go to Castro between 20th and 21st. And that's the story of my first fare from the airport.

Later that day I saw cab 2976 one more time at Oak and Divisadero. I think Byron was still in it, and it made me smile. I was taking a nice man from the Haight to Union Square and knew that I was at the right place at the right time.

Byron's cab in front of me at the terminal
Originally uploaded by Verabug.

A green possibility

2007-04-24T11:15:00.001-07:00

What kind of taxi is this?
Originally uploaded by Verabug.

That's what I wanted to know when I saw this. I walked all around it to see if it had any company information on it, but it didn't. As I was ready to go on my way, a guy with a ponytail got out of the car parked two cars behind this one. He pointed at the plain white taxi and said "That's the first green cab." He told me that he was starting a company called Green Cab which uses nothing but hybrid cars. He said that this was the first car and and that it was being painted the next day and that they were soon getting more. He gave me his card, and I called him on Saturday, hoping to become a green cab driver.

The Millionaire

2007-04-23T16:35:00.000-07:00

When I got to Castro Street, instead of turning right on 24th, which I normally do, I made a left because my psychic sense told me to. And sure enough, just past 25th a young skinny pale guy with glasses was standing on the left side of the street with his arm up. I made a U-y and picked him up. I guessed him to be in his early or mid 20's. He wanted to go to the Caltrain station.

I said "So where are you going today?"

"To Mountain View, where I work. I work at Google."

"Oh, you work at Google?"

"Yes."

"Are you from another country?"

"Yes."

"Which country?"

"I'm from England."

"So you came here for the job at Google?"

"Well, first I went to school here for two years. And now I have been at Google for two years."

"So were you able to make any money with Google stock?"

"Yes. I was able to make about one million dollars."

"You did?"

"Yes."

"Wow. That's amazing."

"Hehe."

"So you're a millionaire."

"Yeah, I guess I am. Although I don't feel like one."

"You're a millionaire! I have a millionaire in my cab."

"And where are you from?"

"I grew up in Germany."

"And how long have you been here?"

"Eleven years."

"Did you come here for school?"

"No, I came here because I wanted to live here. I had a greencard that I had won in the lottery."

"Wow! That's very lucky. Winning a greencard in the lottery is kind of like being a millionaire."

"I know! It is, isn't it?"

We continued talking about his job at Google and about my old job at Macromedia, which I told him I had left after three years there. He asked me why.

"I left because I didn't want to be a cubicle drone anymore. I wanted to be the queen bee of my own life instead of a cubicle drone in someone else's vision. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know exactly what you mean."

I asked him if he was planning on staying in America. He said yes. He said that he didn't have that much left to move back to, that he was losing touch with friends and colleagues in England, and that he was making new ones here. He also said that his parents didn't mind him being here. That's when I knew I had to share about my own experience with that.

"I am going to give you a word of advice, since I have been here for eleven years. Don't lose touch with all the people in England. Make sure that you stay close with your family and also with some of your friends. I have just recently noticed that I wasn't very close with anybody anymore, and I have been really working on reconnecting those relationships. I recommend you pay attention to that now because you might regret it later if you don't."

"Wow. Thanks for the advice. I really appreciate it."

And then the young millionaire asked for the cab driver's phone number.

Methadone runs

2007-04-20T17:33:00.000-07:00

I was dispatched to the motel on Turk and Ellis. I didn't see anybody, so I went into the office. The guy behind the desk was on the phone.

"They're not answering."

"They're not?"

"Room 230, right?"

"Yes."

"She's going to knock on the door." He motioned at the cleaning lady.

The cleaning lady walked across the parking lot and up the stairs to the second floor. She stood in front of a door for about a minute. Then she turned around and made a motion with her hand.

"She's still in there," the reception desk guy, who was now standing next to me, said.

"Okay, I'll wait," I said.

The cleaning lady walked towards me across the parking lot.

"Coming," she said."

"Is it a woman?"

"No," she said.

"A man?"

"Yes."

After a couple of minutes, a door opened on the second floor. A blond woman dressed in black appeared. "I'm coming," she yelled. I assumed that she had just prostituted herself in that motel room. Her hair was messy, and she was wearing black fishnet stockings, an extremely short black skirt, black boots and a black bomber jacket. She looked about 29. She was very pretty if you looked past the scowl that was etched into her face.

"I'm going to the methadone clinic on Turk between Leavenworth and Hyde."

Four dollars later we arrived there, and she handed me a twenty.

"I'll be right back," she said.

"You want me to wait?" I wasn't too excited.

"Yeah, I'm going back to the hotel."

She was back a couple of minutes later, and I took her back to the motel.

A couple of hours later, I had just dropped somebody off at 1st and Folsom. I was driving on 1st towards Harrison when I saw a figure behind a tree who was sticking out her hand. I pulled over and saw a woman smiling with a lot of missing teeth. She had a cell phone pressed to her ear.

"Hi! Thank you so much for stopping."

"No problem."

"I'm going to Turk and Hyde and then, if you want, you can bring me back here. I'm getting my car fixed." I had picked her up in front of a gas and repair station.

"Are you going to the Methadone clinic?"

"Yeah."

"That's funny. I just took somebody there earlier today."

"Really? Wow."

She told me that several cabs had driven past her and not wanted to take her. She also told me that she had been talking to this guy in a Jaguar earlier. He was a retired school teacher. He was paying for the repairs on her car. She told me that she had started crying when he did that for her. She told me that she was very blessed.

She was inside the methadone clinic for a couple of minutes, and then I took her back to 1st and Harrison. She gave me a twenty and said to keep the change.

"God is watching over me today. He sent the generous guy earlier, and now he sent you," she said.

As she got out of the cab, she looked up at the sky and said "Thank you!"

Don't I know you?

2007-04-20T16:50:00.000-07:00

This morning I picked up a dude at 18th and Castro. He was probably in his late 30's or early 40's and wearing a hat. When I noticed that he reminded me of a dude I had seen in a music video years ago, I had the first inkling that I had had him in my cab before.

I thought he might be the same person I had had in my cab about six months ago. That person had gotten in at 18th and Castro or somewhere very close to it as well. Around the same time in the morning too. He had worn a striped hat which I liked. He had reminded me of the dude from the music video. He hadn't talked much the whole ride and just stared out the window, looking like he was in a bad mood. He had requested to go to Sutter and Leavenworth. When we had gotten to his building, he had asked me to wait while he ran up to his apartment to get money. He had never come back. I don't remember how long I waited but I think I waited long enough to know that he had ripped me off.

I had thought about him recently and thought how funny it would be to have him in my cab again. And now I was pretty sure that I had him in my cab again.

"I think I have had you in my cab before."

"I don't know. You look familiar."

"Where are you going?"

"Sutter and Leavenworth."

"Okay," I said to him. On the inside I was saying "Oh. My. Gawd."

"I just woke up, not knowing where I was."

"Really?"

"Yeah, these people had given me some G last night."

"G?"

"Yeah, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, GHB, right?"

"Yeah. So I woke up this morning with nothing but my keys."

"With nothing but your keys? So are you saying you have no money?"

"I do when we get to my apartment."

I was alarmed. He continued to tell me about his night of GHB and puking and passing out, but I wasn't really listening.

"You know, I am pretty sure I have had you in my cab before. And if that was you, then you went up to your apartment and never came back, and I never got paid."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"No..."

"You don't think that was you?"

"I know that wasn't me. I wouldn't do that."

"Well, we'll see if you pay me today."

I didn't want things to be too uncomfortable, so I continued asking him questions about the night before and where he worked and stuff. When we got to his street, I said "At the For Rent sign, right?" I remembered that from last time.

"Yeah."

"So you promise you'll be back?"

"Yeah, I promise. I swear."

It was 7:40am. I decided to wait until 7:45 and then leave. At 7:43 he came back out. The fare was $13. He gave me $17. I smiled widely and said "Thank you very much!"

I was disappointed that he came back because it would have made for a much better story if he hadn't. But I was also glad that he came back because I think that I made a difference in his integrity that day. If I hadn't confronted him, I think he would have pulled the same thing on me again that he had six months ago.

Psychic cab driving

2007-04-16T17:35:00.000-07:00

My friend Philo, who is a very gifted psychic and drives a taxi for Luxor, talked to me about psychic cab driving last Friday. He said he asks the universe "Where should I go next?" and he receives an answer. Sometimes it's in the form of a neighborhood or a street name, and sometimes he is guided there turn by turn. He receives instructions such as "Make a left," "Stay here a minute" or "Keep going straight." He said his mind always questions the instructions and wonders "Why should I go there?" but if he follows the instructions he always finds fares in very unexpected and serendipitous places.

After our conversation, I was left feeling inspired and very excited about giving it a try for myself.

Last night he called me during his shift. He had just dropped somebody off. He said "I wonder where I am going to go next."

"Harrison Street," he said after he had tuned into his psychic sense.

"Where are you now?" I asked.

"Howard Street."

He was on Howard and 3rd. As we continued talking, he passed Folsom and then made a right on Harrison.

"Keep going on Harrison," he told me the voice in his head said.

"I am going to stay on the phone with you until you find your fare. I have to see this for myself," I said to him.

When Philo was at 7th Street, he told me the voice in his head said "You're almost there now."

After another minute, I heard Philo say "There is a couple kissing. Do you need a cab or what?"

Then he said "Yep, it's them." I said "Wow. That is SO awesome. I hope you have a great night!"

"You too! Bye!"

Today I gave psychic cab driving a try myself. I had tried it before but hadn't had much success with it. I think it's because I hadn't fully trusted the instructions I was receiving and always overrode them with my own thoughts and expectations. But this time I listened to the psychic voice with a new focus and flexibility.

My first fare was my regular Monday morning airport customer Tony. I didn't use my psychic sense for that because he was a sure thing. But then, coming back into the city, I asked whether I should take 280 or 101. It was very clearly 101. I stayed on 101. I suddenly knew that I had to take the 7th Street exit. I took the 7th Street exit. You can either make a left on 7th or go straight to end up on Bryant. I ended up on Bryant. At 6th Street the voice said "Keep going." I heard the dispatcher say "2nd and Brannan. 7th and Hooper." Both of these orders were close to me so I checked in "DeSoto 110, 6th and Bryant." There are always a lot of drivers hanging out around 2nd and Brannan, so I thought for sure I was going to get the Greyhound garage order at 7th and Hooper. But the dispatcher assigned the 2nd and Brannan to me. I was over five blocks away from it so I worried that another driver was going to beat me to it. But I went there anyway.

When I got there, nobody was there. It was 7:43 am. I said to the dispatcher "Can you call out the 239 Brannan?" He said, impatiently "It's a 7:45 advance. Will you give them another minute?" I did. And after another minute, two people with luggage came out. I got to go back to the airport!

For the rest of the day, I was guided to one order after the other by my psychic sense. A lot of them were flags on the street but some of them were orders dispatched over the radio that were announced near spots I had been guided to at just the right times.

I left neighborhoods faster than I normally would; I made turns I normally wouldn't; I made U-turns I was instructed to make; I ended up on streets I had never been on.

I heard "Go back down Divisadero" after I had just left that street, and there was a girl standing at Divisadero and Fulton. I heard "Go up Polk, all the way" and I first took two guys from Polk and Sutter to Polk and Clay and after I dropped them off, I picked up another person at Polk and California. I heard "Take 7th and then stay on McAllister" and there was a guy on McAllister and Larkin. I heard "Make a right on 16th" while driving down Valencia, and there was a girl on 16th between Valencia and Mission. I was even guided to pick up a nice British man on Haight Street who I had had in my cab several times before, but not in the last several months. It was nice to have him again.

This stuff really worked! The system even worked pee, coffee, and lunch breaks into my day. And one time I didn't have a fare for about half an hour because I suddenly needed to process something emotional and pull over and cry for a minute. After that was done, I was quickly guided to my next fare.

It was amazing! The reason I know that this was really working is that FOUR times a new fare was already knocking on my window as I was dropping somebody off. That had never happened FOUR times in one day before. Another indication was that I kept crossing paths with familiar people - people I knew, waitresses I had recently had, people I had just seen earlier that day. Whenever that happens, I know that I am in flow and harmony with the universe.

Going forward, I hope to use my psychic sense effectively as much as possible.

32

2007-04-16T16:09:00.000-07:00

A guy with a broken foot was in my taxi, whom I had picked up on Polk Street. We were listening to a hip-hop station, 94.9. A song ended and a female voice came on. It said

"We just confirmed about the Virgina Tech shootings that there are 32 people dead."

Then the next song came on. This was news to me. I had been driving a taxi all morning and not been listening to the news. I said to the guy with the broken foot

"Did you just hear that on the radio?"

"Yep," he said with resignation.

"Did you already know about this?"

"Yep."

"It's horrible. That's a lot of people dead."

"Yeah."

"I think it's the most people dead in a shooting like this."

"There was that one--"

"Columbine?"

"Yeah."

"I think this is even more people dead than Columbine."

"That was a high school, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. And this is a university."

"I guess that still doesn't make people grow up."

"I guess not," I said.

Trash what?

2007-04-13T21:03:00.000-07:00

The dispatcher said "253 Church for Matthew." When I got there, a guy in a purple shirt with shaggy, longish hair walked towards my cab. I asked him if he was Matthew. He said yes. I said cool. He was going to a hotel downtown. He had an accent that I thought was British or Australian. I wanted to ask him where he was visiting from. I wanted to ask him if this was his first time in San Francisco. But I wasn't feeling talkative. Sometimes I don't. It's nothing personal. I liked his eyeliner.

We drove down Market all the way from Church to 4th Street. He didn't say anything either, just looked out the window. At some point I had to talk though because a guy in a van pulled up next to us and said "Excuse me, where is Mission Street?" I said "It's the next street over. Make a right and you'll get to it." I was relieved that I had an answer because two people had asked me for directions on Wednesday and I had drawn total blanks.

Around 7th or 6th Street Matthew said

"Is this the main street?"

"Yeah. It's Market Street."

"I just got here last night, so I haven't seen much yet."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I'm in a band and we did a show last night. We're from the UK."

"Oh yeah? How cool. What's the name of your band?"

"Trash Fashion."

"Trash what?"

"Trash Fashion."

"Trash Fashion. Okay."

"We flew in to New York first and we played there, and then we were in LA and next we're going to San Diego and then back to New York. And after that we're going to Germany or something."

"Wow. You guys are getting big, huh?"

"It's getting there."

"I mean, I have never heard of you guys but if you are playing in all these places.. That sounds so exciting."

"Yeah, it's quite cool." The humble, shy and almost doubtful way he said this surprised me. It was as if the popularity of his band hadn't quite sunk in it.

"So what do you do, do you sing or.."

"I play the drums."

As we made a right on 4th Street, I said

"I am going to write about you if you don't mind. I write a lot of taxi stories down."

"Where do you do that - do you have a blog?"

"Yeah."

"Cool."

"It's not every day that I have a famous band member in my car."

Before he got out, I wrote "http://daycabbie.blogspot.com" on the back of one of my business cards and gave it to him.

Hi Matthew!

What I got for my anniversary

2007-04-13T20:43:00.000-07:00

This week was my one year anniversary of being a taxi driver. This is what I got for it:

- A new shift that starts and ends half an hour later. That way I can sleep half an hour later in the morning or make money for a half hour longer. Either way, that half hour will come in handy.
- A call on my cell phone after my shift ended on Wednesday.

"Hi. I was wondering if you're driving right now?"

"No, my shift just ended."

"Ah, too bad. You gave my friend a ride this morning and gave him your card, and he said that you're an awesome cab driver. Maybe I'll call you next time I need a cab."

"Awesome."

His friend and I that morning had had a conversation about road trips.

Bridal Cabbie

2007-04-06T22:33:00.001-07:00

Bridal cabbie, the Easter bunny version
Originally uploaded by Verabug.

Today I drove a taxi in a wedding dress. I have been saving this one up for just the right time. You really have to be in the right mood to pull that off. Today was the day and guess what: It was Good Friday, and boy, was it ever a good one.

I am glad I waited to wear the wedding dress though because it does get you a lot of attention, and it is very uncomfortable to get in and out of the car in, and you really have to be prepared to deal with all that comes with that. And today I was prepared to deal with all of that, and I had a super fun day.

Early in the morning I stopped at Ritual to get some coffee and a scone. The girl at Ritual said

"Hi. You look really nice. All dressed up."

"Thank you."

The other girl at Ritual said

"Hi. Are you getting married today?"

"No. I wish."

"Keep walking around Valencia Street dressed like this, and all the girls will start dressing like this."

Some of my passengers said things like

"Is it a special occasion?"

"What are you wearing?"

"You look like you're having a lot of fun."

"You look fabulous and just seeing you today made me better." (He had AIDS.)

"We have to ask - is there a story behind your outfit?"

"Are you wearing an Easter dress?"

I answered most of the questions by explaining that I sometimes wear costumes while driving and today I was dressed up as a bride.

Halfway through the day I stopped at Momi Toby's for a bagel. The girl who worked there gave me a chocolate Easter bunny when I left.

"Now you have a bunny to match your outfit. Now you can tell people that it's your boyfriend's bunny and that you are getting married."

"Thanks!"

On the way back to the car a truck full of guys honked at me. I waved at them. They said

"Where is the groom!"

I waved the chocolate Easter bunny at them.

"Aaaahh!" they said.

I think my favorite part of the day was that I was creating strange imagery: a bride walking across the street carrying a to-go container of coffee, a bride getting into the driver's seat of a taxi, a bride lifting a wheelchair into the trunk of a car. There is imagery in every moment of life but today these moments seemed somehow more artistic. I felt a little bit like a filmmaker.

Costume Cabbie: The 'fro

2007-03-26T22:20:00.001-07:00

Costume Cabbie: The 'fro
Originally uploaded by Verabug.

I wore this in the cab today. Every time I caught my reflection, I had to crack up. Yes, the corduroys have bell bottoms, but I forgot my bug eye sunglasses.

Pat Montandon

2007-03-22T11:37:00.000-07:00

On my first day of taxi school in March 2006, there was this guy in my class who had been a San Francisco taxi driver before. He told us that he had once had “the richest woman in San Francisco” in his cab, “Pat Matadawn” is what he called her. He didn't really tell us much about that experience, just that she lived on the crooked block of Lombard Street and that she was “Pat Matadawn, the richest woman in San Francisco.” He kept repeating that. “Pat Matadawn, the richest woman in San Francisco.” “Yeah, Pat Matadawn, the richest woman in San Francisco.” “Yeah, it was Pat Matadawn, the richest woman in San Francisco.”

Recently a friend recommended the book
Oh the Glory of It All, a memoir by Sean Wilsey. This is what the back of the book says:

Sean's blond bombshell mother regularly entertains Black Panthers and movie stars in the family's marble and glass penthouse. His enigmatic father uses a jet helicopter to drop Sean off at the video arcade. The three live happily together “eight-hundred feet in the air above San Francisco, in an apartment at the top of a building at the top of a hill: full of light, full of voices, full of windows full of water and bridges and hills.” But when his father divorces his mother and marries her best friend, Sean's life blows apart. His memoir shows us how he survived, spinning out a “deliriously searing and convincing” portrait of a wicked stepmother (The New York Times Book Review), a meeting with the pope, disastrous sexual awakenings, and a tour of “the planets' most interesting reform schools” (Details).

In the first chapter of the book it was revealed that the author's “blond bombshell mother” has the last name Montandon. I thought “Huh, that sounds familiar.” After the name sank in for a few moments, I thought “Could that be who the guy in taxi school had been referring to?” I concluded that it was very likely.

On page 23 I came across the following:

She changed the pronunciation of her last name “back to French.” From “Mawntandun” to “Moan-tan-dawn.”

“Yep!” I thought. “Matadawn, Moan-tan-dawn, it's the same thing. That's it!” I continued reading:

She had a date every night. She met and wed her second husband [...]. The moved into a beautiful apartment, on the crooked block of Lombard. Six months later the marriage was over. He moved out and Mom kept the lease on the apartment.

The apartment on the crooked part of Lombard settled it for me. This book's author's mother was the same woman as the one the guy in taxi school had been talking about. “Neat,” I thought.

However, the “marble and glass penthouse” in which the author lived with his parents before they got divorced was not on the crooked block of Lombard Street. It was on the top of Russian Hill. In chapter nine I found out that the penthouse is at Green and Jones. And in chapter seventeen I found out the exact location of this very tall building, which is 999 Green Street.

So one day recently, while driving my taxi, I decided to drive by 999 Green Street. I wanted to see this building because it's fun to connect literature with reality.

And when I drove by it, I realized that hey, this is the building where I had picked up the character from one of my own stories, Panic. Taxis and Pat Montandon had brought me full circle back to my own life.

Straight up

2007-03-16T22:25:00.000-07:00

My regular customer Tony asked me this week

"Do you find that you get more tips when you are dressed in a costume?"

"Not really. And to be honest, I don't do it for the money. I do it for the attention."

A mission

2007-03-12T16:49:00.000-07:00

A girl got in at Polk and Vallejo. She said "Mariposa and Pennsylvania, please." I said "Okay." Then neither of us said anything for a long time. I felt like I should start a conversation because she seemed like a cool person. But then Enjoy the Silence by Depeche Mode came on the radio so I decided to enjoy the silence. After a few more blocks I suddenly knew that she was psychic and that I had to tell her this. I felt shy though. I looked at her face in the rear view mirror. I thought that she didn't look like she wanted to hear this right now. But on 7th Street just past King I finally said

"Did you know...that you have psychic powers?"

"Me?"

"Yeah."

"No."

"You didn't know that?"

"No. How can you tell?"

"I can just feel it. So you've never used them?"

"No."

"You should start using them."

"Okay."

"Might as well, right?"

"Yeah, if I have them."

"Yeah."

"I mean, I know that I have intuition."

"Yeah, that's part of it. So you've been using that?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

Right after she got out, Read My Mind by the Killers came on the radio. I felt like I had done the right thing.

Deep shit

2007-03-09T17:28:00.000-08:00

I arrived at the taxi headquarters under the freeway around 5:30 am. Santos was just getting off his night shift.

"How was your trip to Germany?" he said.

"Good. It was really awesome."

"Feel like taking me home?"

"Sure."

"Do you know your cab number yet?"

"331," I said when I found the cab number on my waybill.

The guy with the mustache and backwards leather cap said "I saw you on Craigslist." I had noticed him several times before in the taxi office, probably because he always wears the backwards leather cap. Also, there is something pleasant about the way he walks.

"Oh yeah?" I said.

"Yeah. Sometimes I read Craigslist."

"So what did you read?"

"Ummm, 'goth girl'?"

"Okay."

"'First day'."

"Okay."

And 'coffee date'.

"Ah. Cool."

"That's all, I think."

"What's your name?"

"Doug."

"Vera." We shook hands.

I went outside, got into cab 331 and parked it outside the office with the flashers on, waiting for Santos. As we pulled away from the lot, I said

"I'm in really deep shit."

"What happened?"

"I got a letter from the IRS. Saying that I owe them twelve thousand dollars."

"What for?"

"Well, in 2005? I was still working for a software company. And I had all these stock options. And I sold all of them that year. And I reported the profits I made from them on my tax return. It was about $10,000 in addition to my regular salary. But now the IRS is saying that there is $30,000 that I didn't report. I'm going to look into it with an accountant this weekend."

"I think it'll be okay. Don't sweat it. It's not like you did it on purpose."

"I know."

Driving on 3rd Street near Folsom I said

"When I was in Germany, I visited my grandpa's grave. He died last November."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's okay. I believe in life after death so it's not that hard for me. I can feel him around me all the time. I think he is protecting me now."

"Ah."

"So what is he going to do about those twelve thousand dollars, I wonder," I laughed.

"I just received the message from him to convey something to you that will make you not freak out. So just relax. Everything will be okay."

"You are so good."

Being the passenger

2007-02-24T20:12:00.000-08:00

On Friday night I slipped out of 1015 around 3am. My black hood was on my head and my dark green coat was draped over my shoulders like a cape. I was feeling dark and I liked it. I squatted down against the wall and dialed the number of Santos, my best cabbie buddy. Unfortunately he wasn't driving.

A DeSoto van pulled up in front of 1015 and I slipped in. I said to the driver "You will not believe what I am about to tell you." He said "Oh yeah? What is it?" "I'm a DeSoto driver too." I think I need to get over myself. It's not that extraordinary that I'm a taxi driver but that I also go to clubs in platform boots on the weekends. Or maybe I don't need to get over myself. The last thing a cab driver probably expects a girl getting into his cab in the middle of the night to say is "Hey, I drive a taxi too." I do think I am very special, oh yes.

This guy had only been driving for a week. He had me give him directions to my house.

I told him that I had been at the Chinese New Year's party at 1015. I told him that it was the Year of the Pig now. I also told him that we just ended the Year of the Dog. I said "Ha! Dog! And Pig! Now wonder I have been meeting nothing but dogs and pigs." He said "All the guys you have been meeting are dogs and pigs? Is that what you're saying?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying."**

"So the right guy for you - what does he have to have?"

"Mmmmm, he has to wear make-up."

"Make-up? Like in the bedroom?"

"When he goes out."

"Oh my."

"He has to be skinny. He has to be psychic. And he has to looooove talking about feelings."

"I don't wear make-up, so I guess I'm not your guy."

"Nope."

"But that doesn't mean I'm a bad guy; it just means I'm not the right guy."

"Right. The right guy is out there somewhere; I can already feel him. He is looking for me too. We just haven't met yet."

** I didn't actually mean that.

Costume Cabbie: Valentine's Day

2007-02-20T15:45:00.001-08:00

Costume Cabbie: Valentine's Day
Originally uploaded by Verabug.

My friend Philo called me around 2:30pm on Valentine's Day and said "Are you spreading Valentine's cheer?" I said "Yes! I am!"

This is what I looked like when I drove a taxi on Valentine's Day. I played a special Valentine's Day mix CD all day long. This was the soundtrack:

The Beatles - All You Need is Love
New Order - World
Justin Timberlake - My Love
Madonna - Justify My Love
Nada Surf - Always Love
Joy Divison - Love Will Tear Us Apart
Sisters of Mercy - Temple of Love
The Cure - Lovesong
Ulrich Schnauss - Crazy For You
Stacey Q - Two of Hearts
Blümchen - Herz am Herz
Lamb - Gorecki
New Order - Someone Like You
Risto - Nina, olen palasina
Björk - Joga
Blur - You're So Great
The Cure - Friday I'm In Love

My favorite passenger that day was this guy I picked up Market and Castro. He got in my cab and said "I love your wig. You totally just made my day. I feel so much better already." He then told me that my outfit reminded him of the 80's when he used to be a club kid in New York City. He said he used to dress like that all the time in the 80's and that it was so fun and that he hadn't thought about those times in a while. And then Two of Hearts from Stacey Q played on my CD, and he said that he used to dance to that song at all the gay clubs in New York City. He also told me that he had been HIV-positive for 20 years.

Singing experiment

2007-02-13T15:37:00.000-08:00

My good friend Philo, also a cab driver, and I made a promise to each other recently that we would both sing along to a song while a passenger was with us, preferably a stiff businessman.

Well, the person I sang along with was not a stiff businessman. I feel like I kind of took the easy way out by picking a short, unintimidating guy who didn't speak English very well as my sing-along passenger. But nevertheless, I picked him and I sang along to the song The Perfect Kiss by New Order while he was in my cab. I didn't sing at the top of my lungs but I did sing so that he could hear me. I know he heard me. And I think he liked it because he called me again for another ride later that day.

New apron!

2007-02-12T19:04:00.001-08:00

New apron!
Originally uploaded by Verabug.

My friend and fellow girl cab driver Susan made me this baby blue apron! I absolutely love it. It's for keeping money in and for looking cute.

Also, check out my Fuck taffeta shirt. I absolutely love that too. It fits so well. And what amuses me is that
1) I don't even know what taffeta is.
2) I certainly don't know how to pronounce it.

But hey, fuck it!

The news show guys

2007-02-12T17:38:00.001-08:00

One of them was wearing the ear piece of a headset. We were going to the airport.

"Are you guys from California?"

"No, Colorado."

"Are you allowed to talk on your cell phone while driving there?"

"Yeah."

"I just found out today that starting next year, it will be against the law here. You'll have to wear a headset. My parents will be very happy. They live in Germany and it's against the law there. And I call them from my cell phone while driving all the time. And they always ask me 'Are you allowed to do that?' They ask me that every single time."

"Do you go back to Germany much?"

"About once a year."

"We work for a television news show, and I did a story in Germany once, about an airforce base closing down."

"Ah. So you work for a local news show in Colorado?"

"No, it's a national show, on PBS."

"Do you get recognized a lot?"

"No. We don't have a large audience. Only about four million."

"Do you like getting recognized?"

"Not really."

"Have you ever done a story about anything related to taxi driving?"

"Yeah, a long time ago. It was about a cab driver in Denver who had Christmas lights strung along the inside of his cab and serenaded all his passengers while driving."

"Cool."

"It was about 25 years ago."

"You know, I want someone to do a story about me too. I have been wearing costumes."

"Maybe you need to start serenading people if you want to be on TV."

"Hmph."

"So do you always wear this blue costume?"

"No, I wear a different costume every day. Like, last Friday, I wore a goth costume."

"There was a story recently about a woman in Palo Alto who works as a programmer. And she comes to work in full goth attire every day, and even her cubicle is decorated in all goth."

"Well, if a goth cubicle worker can be on TV, then so can a costume-wearing cabbie, no?"

"I suppose so. Unfortunately we don't have our crew with us, so we can't start filming you."

"Maybe next time then."

Costume Cabbie: All turquoise

2007-02-08T18:22:00.001-08:00

Costume Cabbie: All turquoise
Originally uploaded by Verabug.

This was today's costume cabbie outfit. After getting coffee, I crossed Valencia Street to get back in my cab. A woman driving on Valencia Street stopped and said "Do you have hair to match every outfit?" And I said yep and laughed, and she laughed too and kept driving. A DHL delivery truck guy had witnessed the scene and smirked at me. When he saw me get back in my blue DeSoto cab, he said "You even match the cab!"

Later in the day I was driving a big family from Pasadena from Blowfish Sushi to the Fairmont Hotel. Two of the family members were twin boys. I think they were probably about 12 years old. One of them said "Your hair-do is really cool." I said "Thanks." He said "What does your hair look like underneath?" I said "It's black with a little bit of blue. I'll show you." I pulled off my wig to show him. Then I said "Are you guys twins?" "No, we are cousins," they joked. I said "Well, I thought one of you guys looked a little bit taller." "Yeah, but which ones of us is sexier?" one of the boys asked. He was totally flirting with me. He was TWELVE.

Psychic Valentines

2007-02-05T19:37:00.000-08:00

My Moo MiniCards arrived!
Originally uploaded by Verabug. Today I gave out some personalized Psychic Valentines to my taxi passengers. Some of them just received a generic one that said

TO: [their name]
FROM: Vera
BECAUSE: You were in my cab today!

But there were a few passengers who received a special message because they were special.

The first one was my regular passenger Tony, who calls me every Sunday for his early Monday morning ride to the airport. This is what his Psychic Valentine said:

TO: Tony
FROM: Vera
BECAUSE: You call every week!

Then there was Deborah-Jean. She got into my cab and said

"This is kind of a weird request. I don't normally ask cab drivers to do this but.. I haven't had any coffee yet this morning. Would you mind stopping somewhere so I can get coffee? I don't even care where."

"Sure, no problem at all."

"Is there something on the way?"

"Oh yeah, lots of places. How about Ritual on Valencia? That's kind of on the way. Have you ever been there?"

"Yeah, a long time ago. Sure, that's great."

"I just had coffee from there earlier."

"Another great place is Philz. You should go there sometime. He makes them one cup at a time."

"Oh yeah, I've been to Philz. I love that place. Do you want to go there instead? It's kind of on the way too."

"No, Ritual is great."

When I stopped in front of Ritual, she asked me if I wanted a refill. I said no thanks. When she came back out, she handed me a small paper bag. She said "I got you some zucchini bread."

This is what her Psychic Valentine said:

TO: Deborah-Jean
FROM: Vera
BECAUSE: You have great taste in coffee!

Finally, there was Damon. He asked me what had brought me to San Francisco. I said

"A relationship. We were living in Virginia and really wanted to move back to Los Angeles. But that didn't work out. We ended up moving here, and now I am so happy to be here and not in Los Angeles. Sometimes life knows what you need better than you do. If it had been up to me, we would have moved back to Los Angeles, but luckily life had me move here."

"Yeah, sometimes when things don't work out, there is a good reason for that."

"I'm so glad you just said that! I recently had a relationship that didn't work out and it really bugs me. But I just have to remember that there is probably a very good reason it didn't work out, and I will eventually find out what it is."

A little later I told him that in the fall I want to convert my studio apartment into an open studio to show my art. I said

"I don't know why I didn't think to do that last year. I should have."

"You were probably in a relationship then, huh?"

"Ha! You are good. You are getting at all my stuff."

This is what his Psychic Valentine said:

TO: Damon
FROM: Vera
BECAUSE: You said all the right things!

Costume Cabbie: Goth chick

2007-02-02T19:58:00.001-08:00

Costume Cabbie: Goth chick
Originally uploaded by Verabug.

I pouted all day and listened to The Cure in my taxi. Nobody commented, except when I was about to take this toothless guy who I think was a little bit crazy and who kept saying "Is it gonna be safe? Promise?", and this guy on Chestnut Street said to him "I think this is about the best cab in the city you could have." I think he said that because I am female, friendly and not ugly. Just a hunch.

Elaine

2007-01-29T16:03:00.000-08:00

It was early in the morning, still dark outside, and she was standing at the corner of Market and Church, waving. I pulled over, and as she got in the cab, without me having turned around, she said "I think I've had you before!" She had not had me before. She had an accent. I thought it might be Australian.

She told me about the cab driver she had had earlier who didn't speak English and didn't know where the Tenderloin was.

"Do you know where the Tenderloin is?" she asked me.

"Yes, I do."

"There is a liquor store in the Tenderloin that's open early."

"Where is it?"

"In the Tenderloin."

"Yeah, but where exactly?" I asked as we drove on Market towards Franklin.

"Somewhere in the Tenderloin. Do you know where the Tenderloin is?"

"Yes, I do."

"Good. The other driver didn't know it. I couldn't believe it."

"You know, the Safeway sells liquor, and they are open 24 hours." I said as we passed the Safeway on Market Street.

"Yes, but it's too expensive there."

"But now you're paying for a cab when the Safeway is across the street from where I picked you up..." I was starting to get suspicious of her. Her story didn't add up.

"Yes, but they don't sell liquor until 7:30."

"They don't?"

"No."

"So where is the liquor store in the Tenderloin you're going to?" I asked again as we made a left on Franklin.

"I was just there the other day. They were open early."

"I see. I guess we'll just go to the Tenderloin and see what happens." I wasn't particularly thrilled to see what would happen.

"How is your day going so far?"

"It's going okay."

"I'll give you some of my Irish good luck."

"Thanks."

"What's your name?"

"Vera."

"Vera?"

"Yeah."

"Nice to meet you, Vera. It's so nice to have a female taxi driver. I'm Elaine."

"Nice to meet you too."

"It's my friend's 40th birthday. That's why I need liquor."

"Ah. But why are you celebrating it so early in the morning?"

"Oh no, I just have so many other things to do today. I'm just trying to take care of this first thing in the morning."

"Ah." I felt like everything she was saying to me was a lie. I was wondering if she was going to try to rip me off.

"Afterwards we'll go right back to Duboce and Church. Is that alright?"

"Sure..." That was another red flag. Round trips are notorious for being cabbie rip-off attempts.

When we turned on Larkin off of Golden Gate, I said

"Okay, we're in the Tenderloin now."

"We're in the Tenderloin?" She looked around for the liquor store she had been to just the other day that had been open early.

"Yes."

"Hmmm..."

"There is a liquor store right there, but it's closed." I pointed at the liquor store at Larkin and Eddy.

"There is one in the Tenderloin that's open at this time. I was just there the other day."

"Right." I kept driving north on Larkin.

"I just need some liquor for my friend's 40th birthday."

I saw an open liquor store on Geary and made a left.

"Does this look okay?"

"Yes, I think so. Thanks! I'll be right back, and then we'll go back to to Duboce and Church. Don't worry, leave the meter running, and I'll pay you." I pulled over in front of the liquor store.

She disappeared into the liquor store. I was super suspicious and kept looking back and forth between the meter and the liquor store. I saw her talking to the clerk, pointing at the bottles of liquor behind the counter, laughing. Finally she came out with a 12-roll pack of toilet paper and, I suppose, some liquor for her friend's 40th birthday. She got back in the cab.

"For future reference, that liquor store was at Geary and Larkin." I said to her.

"Geary. And Larkin."

"Yes, Geary and Larkin."

I drove to Duboce and Church. When we got there, the meter was at $14.35. She gave me a twenty and said that the rest was for me. The bill felt oddly stiff in my hand. I wondered if it was counterfeit.

It turns out the bill wasn't counterfeit. It turns out my suspicion had been unjustified. It turns out Elaine had given me a generous tip. It turns out she hadn't tried to rip me off at all. But she and her story sure were odd.

A penny for your intimate thoughts

2007-01-27T09:32:00.000-08:00

I was dispatched to a big building in the Tenderloin, Jones and Eddy. A man was sitting in an enclosed area in the lobby. I said to him "Hi. I have a taxi for number 242." The man looked past me and said "Here is yours, Jack!" I turned around and saw a casually dressed man hurrying towards the door and said "You called DeSoto?" And he said yes. He asked me where I got my dress. I said at a thrift store. He was eccentric, had glasses and oily hair and appeared to be in his 40's.

"Is this all you do?" he asked as we made a left on Golden Gate.

"Driving a cab? Do I do this full-time? No."

"What else do you do?" There was something childlike about the way he asked his questions.

"I'm an intuitive counselor and--"

"A what?"

"An in-tu-i-tive coun-se-lor."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I am a life counselor and I help people with their challenges in life. And I listen to them talk about their feelings."

"What if somebody has really...personal feelings?"

"Then I listen to them too. All feelings are personal. What's wrong with really personal feelings?"

"Nothing!"

"Okay."

"But what if somebody has really...intimate feelings?"

"Intimate?"

"Yeah."

"Then I listen to those too. I try not to judge anything anybody is feeling. Those feelings are there, and if they are there, there is a reason for it."

"Ah."

[...]

"Where are you from?" he continued asking.

"Germany."

"How long have you been here?"

"Ten years?" I answered like a question.

"You married?"

"No."

"Got a boyfriend?"

"No. Working on that."

"I'm available!"

"Oh. Thanks." I laughed.

"Wanna have dinner sometime?"

"No. Thanks."

"Why not?"

"I don't know..."

"I know a couple of good German restaurants."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, there is one off of Polk Street. But I can never pronounce the name because it's in German."

"Is it Suppenküche? That's on Hayes and Laguna."

"Yeah, that's it."

"There is also one on 9th and Folsom."

"Yeah. So do you wanna go sometime?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Honestly, because I think that you are too old for me."

"What! Why? How old are you?"

"30."

"And how old do you think I am?"

"40?"

"That's only ten years!"

"Yeah, well, that's too much for me."

"That's nothing."

"So how old are you?"

"45."

"See, that's 15 years!"

"So?"

Costume Cabbie: Very pastelly

2007-01-26T16:10:00.001-08:00

Costume Cabbie: Very pastelly
Originally uploaded by Verabug.

It's 4:30 am. Do you know where your taxi driver is?

Why, in her kitchen, taking pictures of herself, of course!

I wore this today. Soundtrack: Best of New Order, which I played all day. It was super fun. This time I actually got comments. This is what people were saying:

"Are you a real taxi driver?"

--

"Where did you get the taxi?"

--

"Can you spot Mission people?" I said because we were talking about neighborhoods. He said "Could it be women wearing tutus?" "Ha! No." I said.

--

The two doormen at the Westin San Francis were laughing and motioning at me. I rolled down my window and looked at them. One of them said "You're all dressed up! How cute!"

That's right.

My eyebrow piercing

2007-01-23T13:17:00.000-08:00

So my passengers are a part of every major life decision now. On November 29, mid-afternoon, I picked up a girl about my age. I drove her from Bartlett Street in the Mission to somewhere on the downhill side of Potrero Hill. When we crossed Mission Street, I turned around and said

"So I'm thinking about getting my eyebrow pierced."

"Oh yeah, you totally should."

"Yeah? I have been thinking about it for a couple of weeks. And it just occurred to me a few minutes ago that I think I want to do it today. After I'm done driving this thing."

"You definitely should. I think it would go very well with your facial features."

"Thanks."

"Which side are you thinking about getting it on?"

"The right. Because I have my nose pierced on my left. I like to balance it out, you know?"

"Yeah. Go to Body Manipulations."

"Oh yeah? That's where I got my nose pierced too."

"You should definitely get it done there."

After I dropped off my taxi, I drove straight to Body Manipulations and got my right eyebrow pierced.

So I have been running and driving around with a pierced eyebrow for a couple of months. Sometime in December I picked up an androgynous young man on 24th and Church. He had his eyebrow pierced too. I said

"Hey, you have your eyebrow pierced. So do I!"

"Oh yeah! I like eyebrow piercings."

"Me too! I have mine on the right and you?"

"Me too!"

Then, yesterday, I had two heavy set-men from Fresno in my cab. They were brothers, probably in their sixties, and in town for the Fancy Food Show. The more talkative one said

"Did that hurt?"

"No, not at all."

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah. I guess you don't--"

"Does your boyfriend like it?"

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"You would have more boyfriends if you didn't have that."

"Ah."

Another day, another receipt full of notes

2007-01-23T12:36:00.001-08:00

Another day, another receipt full of notes
Originally uploaded by Verabug.

When I'm driving a taxi, I use a DeSoto receipt to write down an address I am dispatched to so I don't forget.

This one is from Friday, January 19:
1665 Haight #27: The nice couple from Redding who were staying at the Red Vic, whose son had fallen during a construction job and was being treated at UCSF, and who gave me their breakfast from the Red Vic
1300 block of 41st Ave: The jolly lady who I had driven to work before and who has me drive through the park because it's more relaxing
2400 block of Bryant: The lesbian who who didn't say anything about my blue outfit. I love San Francisco. It doesn't make a difference if a cab driver wears a turban or a blue wig: Nothing fazes people here.
1240 Fillmore #811: The fare that stood me up. Nobody was there.
1301 Valencia: Another fare that stood me up. It's the church at the corner of Valencia and 24th, and nobody was there.
1678 Dolores: The same old lady and her caretaker from last time. This time they went to a doctor's office on Ocean and Junipero Serra.
1591 45th Ave: The trombone player who had recently moved here from D.C. He was going to a rehearsal.
450 Townsend for Kyle: Her name was actually Kayo. I (or maybe the dispatcher or order taker) had misunderstood.
Apple sticker: The apple from the breakfast boxes that the nice couple from the Red Vic had given me

Day Cabbie gets blogspotted

2007-01-22T22:23:00.000-08:00

This afternoon I had to go to an office downtown to meet with two guys I am doing some freelance work for. I had met with them one day last week as well. One of the guys told me today that their office neighbor had seen me last time and had asked him "Was that the Day Cabbie?"

So I went over and introduced myself to the office neighbor. Apparently she had been reading this blog, and she had recognized me from the pictures on here. Hi Karen!

Arrangements

2007-01-21T17:55:00.000-08:00

I have been giving out my business card, and sometimes people call me directly now.

One time I took a blind man and his blind friend to the train station. They seemed to get good vibes from me because they both recorded my phone number into their phones. The next day the blind man called me to have me take him and another blind friend of his to Alameda. All the way to Alameda! Including the tip, that was a $60 fare.

One Monday I took a very nice English man to the airport early in the morning. We chatted all the way to the airport, and I found out that he commutes to Los Angeles and back every week for work. I told him that, if he likes, he can call me on Sunday evenings so that I can take him to the airport on Monday mornings. He has been calling me every Sunday evening for the last six or so weeks! I now have a regular Monday morning airport fare.

Arrangements are good.

Toby

2007-01-20T16:29:00.000-08:00

A familiar-looking guy was standing at the bus stop at Geary and Park Presidio. I had seen him at Ritual two days earlier. He was skinny and had dark hair that was short in the back and longer in the front with wisps of it hitting his cheek right below his eye. He was wearing a striped sweater.

I said

"Oh my god, it's you!"

"Ummm yeah.. It's me."

"You don't remember, do you?"

"Ummm. I don't think so. Remember what?"

"I saw you at Ritual the other day."

"Oh."

"Wednesday night? You were there with a friend, sitting on the couch."

"Oh. Yeah. I was."

"I was sitting across from you guys."

"Oh. Hi."

"I'm Vera."

"I'm Toby."

"Nice to meet you."

"You too."

"So where are you going?"

"Mission and Fremont."

"Oh. You work over there?"

"Yeah."

"Doing what?"

"Project management."

"Ah."

[...]

"I'm so glad you're in my cab!"

"How come?"

"Because when I saw you at Ritual, I thought you looked interesting."

"Oh. Thanks."

"You like the Cure, don't you?"

"Ummm, sure. They're okay. Why?"

"Because I can just tell."

"Ah."

"I love them, by the way."

"Yeah, they're okay."

When we were at Mission and Fremont, I repeated

"I'm so glad you were in my cab today!"

"Yeah, it's crazy." He giggled. I handed him my business card.

"I'm giving you my card because I want to go out on a date with you."

"Oh. Thanks." He smiled shyly.

"Have fun managing projects today."

"Thanks. Have fun.. driving a cab. And I'll talk to you.. later." He waved my business card as he got out.

Costume Cabbie: Episode 2

2007-01-19T23:20:00.001-08:00

Costume Cabbie: All Blue
Originally uploaded by Verabug.

I drove a taxi dressed like this today.

Love is..

2007-01-17T07:52:00.000-08:00

Santos is a night driver. When I start my shift early Monday mornings, he is just getting off. We have a habit of hanging out in my cab first thing in the morning, me driving him home. He tips well. We talk about cab driving, making money, big dreams and the self-sabotage of those dreams. We're about the same age.

When I arrived at the garage on Monday morning, he was there, looking at his waybill, sorting out his money, as usual.

"Do you need a ride?" I said and he nodded. "Which cab are you?" he said and I said 803.

Out in the lot, a taxi van was parked behind 803, blocking it. I put my stuff inside 803 and turned around to move the van, and Santos was there, opening the door of the van behind me with a shy but confident slight smile. "You're gunna move it?" I said and he nodded. I grinned and couldn't stop grinning for about 30 seconds.

Love is when another taxi driver moves the taxi that is blocking your taxi so that you can get out.

A community website manager

2007-01-15T21:06:00.000-08:00

It was MLK Day and thus very very slow because most of the city had the day off. On a day like this, all I can really do is drive up and down the streets that have a lot of foot traffic in hopes that some people need some rides.

At 11:55 am I found myself driving up Haight Street. Oasis was playing on the radio, and in the corner of my right eye I thought I might have seen a hand go up. I looked to the right and saw a guy standing between two parked cars. He was looking at me but his hand wasn't up. I didn't know if he needed a cab or to cross the street. It's a very tricky situation when you are not sure if someone's hand has just been up or not. I slowed down my speed and was about to drive past him when his hand went up again. Thank god! Now I knew he needed a cab!

I turned on my signals and stopped. The guy was wearing glasses and a hat and climbed into the cab.

"Thanks!"

"No problem."

"I need to go to Woodland and Willard."

"Okay..."

"You just take Frederick and then make a left on Willard."

"Okay. Thanks." I turned left on Clayton to get off of Haight and towards Frederick.

"Yeah..." He sighed.

"What's going on?"

"Well, I run a community website, and today is a holiday, so hopefully there won't be too much traffic. I just took a couple of hours off, and now I'm headed back to work."

"What kind of a community?"

"To help people find housing and jobs and things like that."

"Oh. That's nice. Are you having a lot of success with actually helping people find housing and jobs?"

"Yeah. It's mostly classifieds, but there are also discussion forums."

"What is the name of the website?"

"Craigslist."

"Craigslist?"

"Yes."

"You run Craigslist? You are so modest! 'I run a community website'!"

"Well, these days Jim runs it mostly."

"Did you start Craigslist?"

"Yes."

"Wow. I am so going to write about you today."

"Do you blog?"

"Yes."

"What's your blog?"

"Well, I have several. But one of them is actually a taxi blog. And that's where I am going to write about you."

"There used to be a Night Cabbie in the Chronicle."

"Yeah, and I am the Day Cabbie, and I want to be in the Guardian. That's what I'm counting on."

We were now at Woodland Avenue. It was a quiet street with a little bit of a view and a path going off of it into the woods. I had never been there before. I said

"Wow, it's cool up here. I have never been here before. Thanks for taking me here."

"Thank you. Good luck with your column."

"Thanks, Craig. You don't mind that I'm going to write about you, do you?"

"No. It has happened before."

"Cool."

When I left, the Red Hot Chili Peppers were playing on the radio, and I turned up the volume, smiling.

Costume Cabbie

2007-01-15T18:29:00.000-08:00

Costume Cabbie
Originally uploaded by Verabug.

I have decided to be the costume cabbie. I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner. Fun! Today I drove a cab dressed like this. That's my friend Hannah's old prom dress.