Well Christmas has come and gone, and I spent most of that day watching movies and eating Chinese food like any good Jewish girl.
Couldn't bear to work that day - in fact the holidays just make me want to crawl under a rock mostly. Finally got to work on Wednesday, and my what a slow shift. A few months ago an old timer at the yard told me you can eat the bear or the bear can eat you, you got to quit before the bear eats you - and thats sure what Wednesday was like. I finally turned in with half of my body undevoured.
Thursday on the other hand was quite busy and my first fare was this fabulous fat lady and her petite mother. I picked them up at Lane Bryant on 16th and Potrero they were really upset because they had taken a cab out there and it was so small - 'small as a hallmark store' she kept saying - I was wondering of she meant a postage stamp. "The clerk should have told me not to bother coming down there when I asked for directions". I wondered if that was something she might not have learned in employee training. They asked me some of the usual questions, 'is it dangerous to drive a cab?' 'are you cautious when you pick up?' 'its kind of hard to be cautious because its difficult to judge character based on appearance - people constantly surprise me'
She agreed and proceeded to tell me this gruesome story about her mom who owns a jewelry store and two Jehovahs Witnesses came in, blond hair, khakis and were very polite, next thing you know they had her tied up blindfolded and were emptying her safe after they cracked her over the head with a gun. Never can tell.
Things to think about during a ten hour work shift.
Its true though, when people ask me if I avoid certain neighborhoods, I tend to answer with the most wealthy affluent ones, thats where the customers are the rudest, most entitled, and they only go three blocks! We call it the Marina Triangle, because you can get stuck there for hours driving yuppies three blocks one way and then three blocks the other.
Wish me luck, tommorrow I drive my first New Years eve shift, and then I leave town for a few days if you dont hear from me, have a fabulous New Years eve and a restful New Years day!
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Bernie Lunger Personality Coach Sensuality Trainer
Had an interesting and kismetic sort of night. The trend lately seems to be don't get hardly any passengers for the first hour and just be calm about it, and it will come. I get so excited about getting out early on a Monday night so I can make some cash before it dies at eleven, but it seems like once I first get out it takes a while to work out the taxi flow, at least for me.
Around nine I met up with a friend at this chlorinated smelling art opening of the staff at a male bathhouse on Market St, and he ended up riding around with me for a few hours. I often enjoy that, having a guest appearance. I have another hot fabulous queen friend that I pick up in the Castro sometimes and she just goes on and on entertaining the faggots and calling them out - telling them not to brush their teeth before they give blowjobs and screaming WORK WORK out the window and shit like that.
So I drove X----- around some of my favorite hills, up Hyde and over so you can see the Hyde St. Pier and that skeletal looking pirate ship peeking up over the water. He seemed excited about the hills and it reminded me of the glass elevators at the Westin. Luckily my fare was heading there. I parked in the cab line and we snuck to the back of the hotel and took the speedy lift up 32 flights looking out at the sparkly Christmassy city in the night sky. I seemed to pick quite a few fares while we were driving around together. Our first one was this lady who lives in Switzerland and she interrupted our converation to ask if we live here in the city - I told her I do, and she asked what it was like here, she was here five years ago. I said, well its not as desperate and terrible as it was five years ago during the dot-com boom, theres a little more housing, but its in many ways a broken hearted city when it comes to the people that make this town great. The housing market is still pretty tight, and poor people are being pushed out everywhere. Started to tell her about the imminent domain shit happening in Bayview, and how the low-income housing in San Francisco is for the people making 40 grand a year. In some ways its still that town Willie Brown said if you can't afford, you should move. Do you know that our lovely ex-mayor offered tax shelters to internet companies to come to San Francisco? They didnt have to pay taxes! So not only did they fill our streets with a 24 hour frat party, they gave nothing to arts funding or housing subsidies or whatever!
Got quite a few really random bingos, which means you drop off and someone else gets in before you leave. Most of them were in unusual places. The strangest had to be Bernie. I picked him up at 21st and Noe, at 11 pm. This is a very steep residential hill, and he came panting down it as my fares got out. He asked me to drive him up and down Valencia so he could find his car. He wanted me to start from the very beginning and slowly drive down. I asked him how his night was going and he replied terrible. Sad and lonely and the friends that he thought were there for him weren't. I said "Isnt it strange how lonely you can be in San Francisco surrounded by all these fabulous people. "
Then he went on to tell me a story about his car, how he took acid with three friends and drove them around all night and they were competely unaware that they were in two tons of speeding steel - the way that they were flailing around. All of a sudden he says "Oh no, wait, pullover I don't think I have any money to pay for this". The meter was at $5.35 and I knew that bingo was to good to be true. He asked for my card and I asked if he had the $5.35. He handed me six dollars and said "There's nothing like loving touch" and pressed his card into my hand - on one side "GOT ORGASM" and on the other "Bernie Lunger Personality Coach Sensuality Trainer".
Around nine I met up with a friend at this chlorinated smelling art opening of the staff at a male bathhouse on Market St, and he ended up riding around with me for a few hours. I often enjoy that, having a guest appearance. I have another hot fabulous queen friend that I pick up in the Castro sometimes and she just goes on and on entertaining the faggots and calling them out - telling them not to brush their teeth before they give blowjobs and screaming WORK WORK out the window and shit like that.
So I drove X----- around some of my favorite hills, up Hyde and over so you can see the Hyde St. Pier and that skeletal looking pirate ship peeking up over the water. He seemed excited about the hills and it reminded me of the glass elevators at the Westin. Luckily my fare was heading there. I parked in the cab line and we snuck to the back of the hotel and took the speedy lift up 32 flights looking out at the sparkly Christmassy city in the night sky. I seemed to pick quite a few fares while we were driving around together. Our first one was this lady who lives in Switzerland and she interrupted our converation to ask if we live here in the city - I told her I do, and she asked what it was like here, she was here five years ago. I said, well its not as desperate and terrible as it was five years ago during the dot-com boom, theres a little more housing, but its in many ways a broken hearted city when it comes to the people that make this town great. The housing market is still pretty tight, and poor people are being pushed out everywhere. Started to tell her about the imminent domain shit happening in Bayview, and how the low-income housing in San Francisco is for the people making 40 grand a year. In some ways its still that town Willie Brown said if you can't afford, you should move. Do you know that our lovely ex-mayor offered tax shelters to internet companies to come to San Francisco? They didnt have to pay taxes! So not only did they fill our streets with a 24 hour frat party, they gave nothing to arts funding or housing subsidies or whatever!
Got quite a few really random bingos, which means you drop off and someone else gets in before you leave. Most of them were in unusual places. The strangest had to be Bernie. I picked him up at 21st and Noe, at 11 pm. This is a very steep residential hill, and he came panting down it as my fares got out. He asked me to drive him up and down Valencia so he could find his car. He wanted me to start from the very beginning and slowly drive down. I asked him how his night was going and he replied terrible. Sad and lonely and the friends that he thought were there for him weren't. I said "Isnt it strange how lonely you can be in San Francisco surrounded by all these fabulous people. "
Then he went on to tell me a story about his car, how he took acid with three friends and drove them around all night and they were competely unaware that they were in two tons of speeding steel - the way that they were flailing around. All of a sudden he says "Oh no, wait, pullover I don't think I have any money to pay for this". The meter was at $5.35 and I knew that bingo was to good to be true. He asked for my card and I asked if he had the $5.35. He handed me six dollars and said "There's nothing like loving touch" and pressed his card into my hand - on one side "GOT ORGASM" and on the other "Bernie Lunger Personality Coach Sensuality Trainer".
Sunday, December 17, 2006
banana flavored shimp chips
Such a cold winter day for us here in San Francisco. I got to the yard about 4:30 this afternoon and everyone was all bundled up waiting for their cab. Some old timer called the yard a fishmarket - and really its apt. Everyone pushing towards the window with money in their fists scambling for attention.
The scene is set up like an old 1970s sitcom - yes you know the one, except for outdoors since it is California. Mostly outdoors, when you enter it it seems like some post apocalyptical looking mangled cab cemetary, and the further in you get the more sea of yellow you see. In the center of this madness is the cage, otherwise known as dispatch, the guys who are really in charge of your happiness, your liveliehood and basically decide if you wait two minutes or two hours to start your day.
When I got to the front, I was offered a spare, that means a crappy ass cab that wheezes and squeaks to a halt and probably eats gas like candy. Or a wait, so wait I did. I think its humiliating to take out a spare on an assigned shift. But thats just me. I am treated well after two years, the dispatch is past the paying my dues portion of my time there. So I only waited about forty minutes for a car. Talked nutrition with another driver. He told me he doesnt eat - a bagel a day because he has no appetite. Made me wonder if I would have an appetite either if I had to move to this fucked up country so I could send money home and drive clueless Americans around all night.
Got an amazingly new cab tonite, and no passengers for almost my first hour. My third set of passengers were a radio pick up on 20th and Geary. Three women who had me make a few stops - And for some reason, why do people expect you to read their minds just because your driving. Its like how they don't put their seatbelts on in a cab. Why do they trust us so much? Cab drivers are some of the most fucked up drivers on the road. Anyway, I had to reverse up Gough (a one way street) and hop over the curb into the apartment complex - they squealed, which of course made me happy. When I finally got the last girl to her door and helped her drag her groceries across the sidewalk, she was so happy she gave me three bags of what I thought were shrimp chips - and damn I was hungry so I was very thankful. But they were a new twist on an old concept. Banana flavored! Now thats dinner for you.
The scene is set up like an old 1970s sitcom - yes you know the one, except for outdoors since it is California. Mostly outdoors, when you enter it it seems like some post apocalyptical looking mangled cab cemetary, and the further in you get the more sea of yellow you see. In the center of this madness is the cage, otherwise known as dispatch, the guys who are really in charge of your happiness, your liveliehood and basically decide if you wait two minutes or two hours to start your day.
When I got to the front, I was offered a spare, that means a crappy ass cab that wheezes and squeaks to a halt and probably eats gas like candy. Or a wait, so wait I did. I think its humiliating to take out a spare on an assigned shift. But thats just me. I am treated well after two years, the dispatch is past the paying my dues portion of my time there. So I only waited about forty minutes for a car. Talked nutrition with another driver. He told me he doesnt eat - a bagel a day because he has no appetite. Made me wonder if I would have an appetite either if I had to move to this fucked up country so I could send money home and drive clueless Americans around all night.
Got an amazingly new cab tonite, and no passengers for almost my first hour. My third set of passengers were a radio pick up on 20th and Geary. Three women who had me make a few stops - And for some reason, why do people expect you to read their minds just because your driving. Its like how they don't put their seatbelts on in a cab. Why do they trust us so much? Cab drivers are some of the most fucked up drivers on the road. Anyway, I had to reverse up Gough (a one way street) and hop over the curb into the apartment complex - they squealed, which of course made me happy. When I finally got the last girl to her door and helped her drag her groceries across the sidewalk, she was so happy she gave me three bags of what I thought were shrimp chips - and damn I was hungry so I was very thankful. But they were a new twist on an old concept. Banana flavored! Now thats dinner for you.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
All in a Days Work
I have never before done a blog - this is my first time!
My friend Greg Scott suggested I start a blog to help me with the short film I am trying to eke out of my time as a lady cabby in San francisco. I have been twirling through the streets of SF for almost two years and I have to say lately i have found it well frankly kind of tiring, even a little boring. I am not going to pretend its the best job in the world or anything because unltimately its customer service, but at the same time, for customer service it can be a very independant and adventurous gig, as you can imagine. The shifts at the company I work for are ten hours, so you see where the boring/tiring aspect begins to form. And after two years of driving miss daisy, sometimes you begin to feel like a bit of a wasted talent.
I am a native San Franciscan, a night driver and yes a Lady (sometimes). Driving a cab in SF is probably different than driving in most cities, especially as a woman or as a queer. It is a very progressive city, so they say. One minute I am carrying 3 yuppies to the mission to partake in the gentrification of one of the most precious working class areas of the city, and the next I am shuttling a mom and her gay son to a Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence Easter Sunday Jesus look-a-like contest. You see what I mean. Never a dull moment. Except for Monday nights in January when you are driving around helplessly looking for a stray tourist or sorry ass alcoholic out getting shitfaced by themselves on a weekday night. Either way I like to think theres a little less of a culture of hard lined east coast masculinity here, a little more hot pink. Makes a girl feel safer, I guess.
For me, this job constantly feels like it or I am on the line. Drama of the week? I was out at my gayborhood bar with my girlfriend, who also happens to be a cab driver (we'll get back to that later) and one of our supervisors happened to be there throwing a few back as well. He recognized us and introduced himself to j-- as our supervisor and handed her a card. Of course being who she is, she bought him a drink and talked him up for a while. We sat at the bar while he told us about his kitties, his days as a driver and what its like to take complaints for a living. Totally innocent. About two weeks later, I am getting on the bay bridge in Muffala my teeny tiny turquoise hatchback in some cunty ass mood and this guy tries to cut me off as I am getting on the bridge - well of course I am not going to let him go, even if it is carpool and I am driving solo. I get in front of him, flash him the hairy eyeball, and zip to my sisters house. Three days later said supervisor finds me in the lounge and engages in a fabulous display of public humiliation.
"You went to the east bay on friday in a blue car and got on in the carpool only on-ramp at around two o'clock, didnt you?"
"um yes!" I say confusedly
"You remember me? You cut me off and then looked right at me and glared" he looks around the room and says to the room of dosing drivers "She glares" "You looked right at me, cut me off in a carpool only lane, driving alone and then you GLARED at me"
At this point I realize that guy with the born again heathen bumper sticker was HIM! Oh shit! He sort of seems like he is kinda joking mad not real mad, but as he continues on he seems to get really more and more pissed. My sweet date is there trying to turn it into more of a joke, "Oh you should see her when she is in her cab, your lucky she didn't run you off the road" and this kind of nonsense, which was helpful, really, to deescalate the tension a little I think.
"Wait till you get a complaint" he barks as he goes back into the office "We'll see what happens then"
Oh no, I shudder to myself, thats right, he's the complaint taker guy. I had quite a few complaints turned in when I first started, but I think its been a while. One of the things that has helped is my resolution not to swear at my passengers or call them names. Just let it go. I can kick them out, but don't call them a worthless fuck while doing it. Sometimes, though they will complain to get over their own bad days, so this is going to be quite a challenge.
In the meantime, I think I need to get down to a faggy pet supply store and buy his cats christmas presents. Hopefully this will pass as many small miracles do in this industry, trapping drivers for ten, twenty, thirty years.
For now I end this entry but look forward to the challenge of pulling the nights events out of the closed rusty trunk I toss them into as soon as I leave my yellow box.
My friend Greg Scott suggested I start a blog to help me with the short film I am trying to eke out of my time as a lady cabby in San francisco. I have been twirling through the streets of SF for almost two years and I have to say lately i have found it well frankly kind of tiring, even a little boring. I am not going to pretend its the best job in the world or anything because unltimately its customer service, but at the same time, for customer service it can be a very independant and adventurous gig, as you can imagine. The shifts at the company I work for are ten hours, so you see where the boring/tiring aspect begins to form. And after two years of driving miss daisy, sometimes you begin to feel like a bit of a wasted talent.
I am a native San Franciscan, a night driver and yes a Lady (sometimes). Driving a cab in SF is probably different than driving in most cities, especially as a woman or as a queer. It is a very progressive city, so they say. One minute I am carrying 3 yuppies to the mission to partake in the gentrification of one of the most precious working class areas of the city, and the next I am shuttling a mom and her gay son to a Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence Easter Sunday Jesus look-a-like contest. You see what I mean. Never a dull moment. Except for Monday nights in January when you are driving around helplessly looking for a stray tourist or sorry ass alcoholic out getting shitfaced by themselves on a weekday night. Either way I like to think theres a little less of a culture of hard lined east coast masculinity here, a little more hot pink. Makes a girl feel safer, I guess.
For me, this job constantly feels like it or I am on the line. Drama of the week? I was out at my gayborhood bar with my girlfriend, who also happens to be a cab driver (we'll get back to that later) and one of our supervisors happened to be there throwing a few back as well. He recognized us and introduced himself to j-- as our supervisor and handed her a card. Of course being who she is, she bought him a drink and talked him up for a while. We sat at the bar while he told us about his kitties, his days as a driver and what its like to take complaints for a living. Totally innocent. About two weeks later, I am getting on the bay bridge in Muffala my teeny tiny turquoise hatchback in some cunty ass mood and this guy tries to cut me off as I am getting on the bridge - well of course I am not going to let him go, even if it is carpool and I am driving solo. I get in front of him, flash him the hairy eyeball, and zip to my sisters house. Three days later said supervisor finds me in the lounge and engages in a fabulous display of public humiliation.
"You went to the east bay on friday in a blue car and got on in the carpool only on-ramp at around two o'clock, didnt you?"
"um yes!" I say confusedly
"You remember me? You cut me off and then looked right at me and glared" he looks around the room and says to the room of dosing drivers "She glares" "You looked right at me, cut me off in a carpool only lane, driving alone and then you GLARED at me"
At this point I realize that guy with the born again heathen bumper sticker was HIM! Oh shit! He sort of seems like he is kinda joking mad not real mad, but as he continues on he seems to get really more and more pissed. My sweet date is there trying to turn it into more of a joke, "Oh you should see her when she is in her cab, your lucky she didn't run you off the road" and this kind of nonsense, which was helpful, really, to deescalate the tension a little I think.
"Wait till you get a complaint" he barks as he goes back into the office "We'll see what happens then"
Oh no, I shudder to myself, thats right, he's the complaint taker guy. I had quite a few complaints turned in when I first started, but I think its been a while. One of the things that has helped is my resolution not to swear at my passengers or call them names. Just let it go. I can kick them out, but don't call them a worthless fuck while doing it. Sometimes, though they will complain to get over their own bad days, so this is going to be quite a challenge.
In the meantime, I think I need to get down to a faggy pet supply store and buy his cats christmas presents. Hopefully this will pass as many small miracles do in this industry, trapping drivers for ten, twenty, thirty years.
For now I end this entry but look forward to the challenge of pulling the nights events out of the closed rusty trunk I toss them into as soon as I leave my yellow box.
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