"I need a guillatene to get you off my mind..."

I haven't been writing in this for a while. Not for any good reason, it just hasn't happened. A lot of shit has happened since the last post... Hmm yeah too much to get into. I'm typing this on my phone so it will surely be breif. Called in sick today, been having anxiety problems, at least I think that's what it is. I'll get light headed and feel pike I'm gonna puke or pass out, or my hand or leg will start shaking for no good reason, not sure what's going on. I feel fine now that I'm not going to work. I'm broke again, but that's not so bad.

Painted my room the other day, with the much needed help of Vanj and JB. The colors are canoe-brown, snow cone- blue, and my sweet patunia-pink. The pink is in the closet (shiv's room). She needs a girly space of her own.

The cats and shiv are all cuddled up on me so I'm gonna take a page from their book and catch some zzz's

Xoxo

Seattle and Port Townsend

Left on Thursday with Justin Judy and Lauren for Seattle to watch Wooden Indian play a show at Anne Bonny then we went to Port Townsend so we could all play together. Here are some pictures:


Lauren in Scott and Jessica's back yard. I can't believe this is yard is in Seattle.




Here is the meditation hut in their back yard



...and the pond/pool



This is Lucy, Scott and Jessica's dog that was really pissed at Bubba the whole time


some art in a park



flier for the show on Thursday by Spencer Moody





Seattle



Justin and Lauren just before getting on the fairy



Judy



washed out Seattle



birds flying as we were on the fairy



Judy playing with wind



Seattle





Justin loves to leave Seattle



bye bye...


hung over on a boat



I'm on top of the world!



It was actually sunny in Washington almost the whole time



what a complainer



hey buddy



Dan and Sarah in Port Townsend



Trav making his Alice Cooper face



Justin and Judy hard at work... at the bar



being shy



Dan only shows up in green



Wooden Judy Indian



Pixelvision is now Travision



Lauren has feet... you don't believe me? well here's a picture



WOODEN INDIAN BURIAL GROUND



This guy was Rad



tuning... or something



Trav and Dan

Cab Update: Cats on the Freeway, and a Day in the Life

Last weekend I was driving over the Freemont Bridge, and for those of you that don’t know; it’s a freeway bridge, with no sidewalks or bike lane. In fact the fucking thing is something like 300 feet above the Willamette River. Anyway, around eleven o’clock I was headed east on the bridge on my way to pick up a friend in the cab. On the right side of the freeway there was minivan covered in mud with a flat tire and a dented fender. The thing looked as if someone had tried to drive it off the bridge but was stopped by the guard railing and the tire was punctured by the fender caving in it from the impact. But I only got a quick glance. Just past the van was man covered in mud with a limp and a drunken stager waddling down the freeway with no regard for the sixty plus mile per hour traffic just to his left. I pulled over and asked him if he needed some help. He gargled something at me and got in the back seat. When I asked him what happened he plainly stated that a cat or maybe a dog had run out in front of him and he lost control of the van. He said it in a way that makes you think he had been practicing for a while in the van before embarking on his journey across the giant freeway bridge on drunken foot. I said, “a cat really?... on this bridge?”

“Hell yeah, on this bridge, fucking thing jumped right out at me, a total suicide mission,” he barked back at me. There are absolutely no cats and no fucking dogs on this bridge, this was a suicide mission all right, but there was no domestic creature involved.

I got him off the freeway and dropped him at Emanuel Hospital at the base of the bridge so he could use the phone or get arrested or whatever happens to vagrant alcoholics who fail to drive their car off a bridge.

*******************************************************

Here is my list of everyone that was in my cab last night the time and how much they paid:

420pm Paradox Girl $18 – took her from NW to SE to the Paradox Café for a work meeting. She was cute but very domestic. Kept talking about home furnishings and how much money she saved by living in an apartment with her boyfriend rather than a house.

440pm Asian Lesbians from Sacramento $13 – They said “hella” a lot!

455pm Older couple from The Republic Café $8 – At first glance you would think that these two were normal people or at least not the repulsive freaks of nature that they turned out to be, but if you have any experience with the people who usually take a cab from the Republic Café you know that its where Portland crazies go to get decent Chinese food. This guy gets in with his wife. I looked back in the rear view and she’s drooling on herself and mumbling in his ear, then she kisses him, a big wet sloppy one with drool oozing from the corners of her mouth on dripping down his food stained an unshaven cheek. Then he opened his mouth and began to speak. This guy sounded like Kermit the Frog with a frog in his throat trying to gargle the alphabet backwards. I couldn’t even make out any logical syllables let alone a word. And once he started he wouldn’t stop the was probably talking so much to keep his wife from drooling on his face in public anymore. I almost missed their stop at 11^th and Clay because I couldn’t understand what he was saying.

520pm Middle aged asshole to Park Kitchen $10 – People can be so discourteous it pisses me off. This guy gets in says, “Park Kitchen,” then immediately returns to his phone call that couldn’t wait another eight seconds for a cordial hello how are you before giving me orders. I take him there and it’s in a strange spot wrapped tightly in one way streets, so I have to go around the block he still says nothing to me. I stop the car and the meter and look back, he says, “receipt,” and hands me a ten. I right one out for ten bucks and he gets out. Fucking asshole.

535pm Fat Lady with a cane $7 – First of all this lady is at a restaurant on a side street down town and I pull up across the street and look at her, this is where everyone from this restaurant gets in the cab, it’s common knowledge that you cross the street to get your cab here. This lady waves her cane at me and slaps the curb in front of her signaling in a very obese way that she wants me to swing around so she doesn’t have to exhaust her self crossing the street. She gets in the car nearly bottoms out, this lady doesn’t have a cane because she’s old is to balance her so she doesn’t roll away. Like a block under a wheel of car stopped on a hill, or a parking break. After a one dollar tip with her credit card she relieved the shocks on my car and vacated the cab.

550pm Delivery Bus to Beaverton (box) $34 – This was a little confusing, I’m not getting paid for this until next week apparently because the credit card approval is locked in the office of my cab company’s manager and I won’t see her until then… very odd, but I guess 34 bucks is 34 bucks.

630pm Middle Age Fat Man (round trip beer run) $10 – He was another fat slobbery type, but nice enough. I’m always amazed at the kinds of people that live in the suburbs, this guy seemed like he belonged in a project in Chicago not a clean faceless apartment complex in Raleigh Hills.

700pm Old Lady Grocery $7 – I feel bad for this lady and all the old ladies like her. She was stranded at the grocery store for two hours because her daughter left thinking that her mother had gotten her own ride home. This lady was in her 80s and not all there, she wasn’t about to just get her own ride home. Her family needs to be taking care of her. She needed help walking to the car, walking to the door of her house and even help unlocking her house. She’s going to get fucked with by someone at some point, and it will be her daughter’s fault. Parents and grandparents need to be taken care of.

720pm Trasher with a car battery $15 – This guy had a car battery with him and said the bus driver wouldn’t let him on because he had battery acid with him. He was drunk and a little smelly but nice enough. I took him to a trailer park in the middle of a rich neighborhood in Beaverton. I had no idea this place existed, it was off the fucking map, and huge! There was only one entrance and exit and it was the size of a city with winding roads and forks and all the mobile homes looked the same, not to mention it was dark, and there were a million turns. I thought I was going to get jumped by a band of gypsies.

730pm Grocery Store Shopping Kids (Aloah) $10 – Two girls not more than fifteen years old were shopping for a large family. They filled the trunk and part of the back seat with shit. Nice enough girls, but sad. When I dropped them off a boy about thirteen or fourteen came out to help with the bags and they complained that none of the others came out. I wondered how many children lived in that apartment, was it like that place were Pinocchio was turned into the donkey, or more like the island of misfit toys?

800pm Crazy NYC lady shit talker $9 – I get it, Portland is not New York City. Things are different. Get the fuck over it, or go home.

820pm to 1000pm Stopped at home for food and masturbation.

1010pm Retired Hippy in St. Johns $17 – This guy moved to Portland in 1974 from San Diego, CA after a long run with the Grateful Dead. He never stopped smoking pot and he never stopped going to shows, and he looked it. He was Mexican with long hair and talked like Cheech Marin. After living all over Portland, he figured that St. Johns was the best neighborhood for him to grow pot and wonder around aimlessly.

1030pm Old Drunkard to Moon Star for “black pussy” $19 – This guy got in and said, “What kinda hang time you got…” I said, “I don’t know man, what do you mean?” “I mean I want to get some black pussy up the street and I want you to wait for me.” “Well, it’s 50 cents a minute for me to wait, but I’ll wait all night if you pay for it.” With that we were off, but he still hadn’t told me where we were going, just that we were looking for black pussy. He said, “Take me to the black bar.” And again I said, “what do you mean? I mean what’s the name of the bar you’re looking for.” I wasn’t trying to be an asshole, I understand that he’s drunk, and I get that he wants to go to a bar with a lot of black people (this guy is in his sixties probably and as pale as me), but there are a lot of bars that are all or mostly black people. I started listing some bars for him to choose from, that wasn’t working so I went with their cross streets, finally he settled on the Moon Star at Lombard on MLK. On the way there he gabbed about his internet business ElectricFireplaces.com and how he had to fire someone. Things got very heaving in the cab; the guy was almost in tears when I pulled into the parking lot on Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard. I wished him luck with the black pussy and was on my way.

1100pm Two Surfer dues and a fat girl $15 – They were going out to celebrate this guys last night in town before moving to northern California for the good surfing and the great pot. I actually heard them refer to something as tubular. It was great.

1120pm Three Hippies One Dog No Tip $9 – These guys were dirty dread lock hippies that had a thick rope around their pit-bull puppy’s neck in lieu of a collar. They talked about how the Grateful Dead were gods and how it didn’t matter that they had never heard of The Velvet Underground, because The Dead were so much better that nothing else mattered, it was all very strange.

1130pm Judy at Gino’s – It is almost always the best part of my night when I go to Gino’s Italian restaurant to pick up my friend Judy. Not only is she great company and a relaxing break from the drunken assholes that fill my cab three times an hour all night, but she gives me free food and she pays me to take her home. On this night I had just found out that a good friend who moved to New York a while back was here in town and I convinced Judy to come get a drink with us. So after she closed up I drove the cab back, gassed up, and switched it for my black truck. We had drinks I drove Judy home and met up with my roommate and his girlfriend at my house had a couple more beers and I passed out.

Dead Body

I just got home from a nice band practice with Please Step and a short errand. I got a new hose for my dishwasher. On the way here, on 20^th and Multnomah, there were twenty or so cop cars and a bus blocking the intersection. Slowly edging my way up to the incident I figured it for a car accident or maybe a bomb scare or something, but I’m still not sure exactly what happened. When I got close I could see a red flannel shirt and brown curly hair on the back of the head of a dead body lying under the bus with its hat just a few feet behind. The onlookers on the sidewalk were petrified. Maybe some of them were looking at a ghost. I just drove on by, and thought of the movie Stand by Me. Those kids actually walked for two days in search of what I had just stumbled upon. I missed all the coming of age business and all the witty Corry Feldman lines, but the end result was not too far off, a kind of surreal experience that wipes your mind clean and numbs you for a few minutes. I’m not really sure how I drove those next few blocks, for the two minutes or so after I drove by the dead body. It’s like when you have a nine to five job and you remember leaving work, but your sitting in your drive way and you don’t really know how you got there. You’re pretty sure you drove; I mean it only makes sense, you are in your car, but you don’t actually remember anything about the drive home. Now that I’m home the dishes are being washed in the other room and I’m still not sure if the dead body was a boy or a girl.

20. where to put the vomit?

20. where to put the vomit?

So I’ve been doing this cab thing for about two and a half years now. I’ve talked to a lot of people who’ve been there much longer than me who have never had a puker. That is to say that no one has ever vomited in their cab. Not once. I was counting earlier and I’ve had eight people so far blow chunks in or on my cab. Wait no nine, I just thought of a another guy. This isn’t counting all the times that people got out and puked on the side walk next to my cab. Those are the good people. Those people deserve awards for self awareness and respect for others. I mean, I get it, puking is a natural reaction for some people to drinking too much. I’ve definitely done my share of puking in the street, in the bar, on the side walk, in my bed, the toilet, the sink, down my pants, in a shoe, a drawer, all types of indoor flooring surfaces… But as far as I can remember I’ve never puked on or in anyone’s car, and especially not a stranger’s car. Some people are courteous enough to extend this same kindness to me, others are not.

I’ll go in chronological order, starting with the most recent pukers. Last weekend I had a really attractive lesbian couple in the cab who were of course totally wasted. They were nice enough though. The passenger side girl was definitely the hot one in the team, the other girl was cute, but the passenger side girl was hot, I mean hotter than L Word hot, I was trying not to stare. She was also kind of a jerk, the cute girl was super nice though and kept apologizing for her partner. The hot girl was nodding out a bit at the end of the ride, but showed no signs of needing the barf alarm when she leans forward and says vary calmly and softly, “you really need to pull over now.” And as if her saying the words was the same as me thinking them the car stopped immediately. She hopped out and spewed some clear and kind of milky liquid out, probably the remnants of five or six white Russians and got back in the car. Didn’t say another word till we got to the house, then just as I turned around to ask for my twelve bucks she looked me in the eye and right then puked into the pocket of her shirt, it was like she had been planning this. Like she knew she might need to puke more, but may not be able to get out of the car in time, so this pocket was all picked out and ready. She knew what was going on and she had control of the situation, just no control over the many white Russians floating around in her hot little belly. I was really impressed. She didn’t spill a drop, no spray, no overflow, no leaks. She just got out, handed her cute partner her credit card to pay for the ride, and walked into her house, all with one hand on her right breast pocket to hold steady the small pool of vomit she chose to put in it.

About a month ago I picked up a very large woman. A lot of you have heard this story; it’s one of my favorite cab stories to tell. I think that’s why I haven’t written it down. I’m not sure it comes across as well without the hand gestures and my impersonation of this behemoth. Anyway, I picked up a very large woman. She was in the 400lb plus club, this was no small potato. She was at a cocktail party at the Chinese Gardens in Chinatown, wearing a kind of sun dress I think. I don’t know, it was floral and had a low cut bust/neck/ chins line. This all took place at the beginning of my shift around 4:30pm, the sun was still out, and this lady was hammered. She must have had about fifty vodka tonics and at least half the orderve bar before I got to her. She was bulging with gluttony, hey I like to drink too much and gorge myself as much as the next guy, but this lady, you could see it. She got in and smelled of booze and grease, but she was nice enough, not too talkative just kind of stewing in her own thoughts. We cross the river, then made it all the way up to 39^th ave, when she says, “hey, pull over… pull over” I spun the car up a drive way and out of traffic all the while wondering how his woman was going to exit the car even remotely fast. She didn’t, she tried to get out. She opened the door and turned her head, but it was no use getting out was going to take too long so again, our eyes met as she looked up at me with a perfect look of apology then her head dropped and she filled her ginormous cleavage with the most vile smelling and disgusting looking vomit I have ever seen. There must have been two gallons of it. And yet, not a drop in the cab, it all fit in her boobs. Then now that she had some time to think and assess the situation, also I was giving her a look that meant, “what are you going to do with it now?” She slowly and carefully exited the car, leaned straight over and dumped two gallons of vomit out of her party dress cleavage and onto some poor saps lawn at about 39^th and SE Lincoln. I really wish I had this event on video tape because it truly was amazing, in the most awful and disturbing way possible.

Those are the two best places I’ve seen people puke in my cab. There was also a kid who puked in his shoe after I stopped to the side of the freeway onramp with cars flying by at 70 mph watching him blow chunks of malt liquor and cheese-its all over the freeway. He was kind of an asshole so I’m just going to leave the story at that.

A friend of mine had a guy puke so bad in his cab that the vomit got all the way up to the dash board in the front seat, it shorted out all his dash lights. The guy had to get a new back seat, and actually got a ticket the next week for speeding because he couldn’t tell how fast he was going cuz some asshole’s barf had shorted out his electrical. Awful stuff.

All and all preemptively avoiding a puke filled situation is always the best way to go, for both cabby and passenger. So please, if you have to puke, try and do before you get in the cab, and if you’re going to puke, let the driver know. And further, if you do end up puking in a cab, you better make it funny and you better pay well and clean it up yourself.

Here is a list of conjugations and mutations of the word BARF along with the new possible meanings. Please add more if you want.

Barf-o-rama: everyone barfs

Barftastic: as good as barf

Barfolicious:

Barftacular:

Barfbatum: exactly how he barfed it

Barforella: butt rock band with queasy stomachs

Barferia: fear of barf

Barflry: stop barfing around

Barfed: you’re totally barfed

Barfatious: extreme barf

Barfocide: kills barf, or kills other things with barf

Barfista: professional barf maker

Barfiesta: barf party

Barfaloriate: graduated from the school of barf

Barf-a-thon: how much barf have you got

Radio Cab 19. don’t lock your keys in your car… it’s stupid

So today I was driving down 26th for no real reason, just burning gas and polluting the world with my cab driving, and I saw a friend of mine in a parking lot with his cab. He was talking to another driver, so I was immediately drawn to the lot. If there are two cabs, there may as well be three. Turned out that he’d locked his keys in his car, and the other guy was bringing a set from the shop. Poor guy was stuck in front of Plaid Pantry for like 15 minutes waiting for his keys… joke. We didn’t have time to get into it there at the Plaid, but this is what I wanted to tell him about (sorry if this story has already been told, I’m pretty sure it’s not written down yet, but if it is, then you’re going to hear it again, or I guess you could stop reading….). The point is that cab driving may not be what brings me trouble, maybe I bring the trouble to the cab business.

Last winter was a particularly cold son of a bitch. The wind was crazy and the rain didn’t stop for months. This made my job awesome! No one wants to wait for a bus or walk or ride their bike in a fucking monsoon. One of the amazing things about driving cab in the winter time is that you can pretty much live in shorts and a t-shirt if you want; you control the climate in the cab so it’s all up to you. On this day I was wearing a long sleeve shirt and jeans, no jacket, no scarf, no gloves, no hat… etc. I stopped at a convenience store for something to drink and locked my damn keys in the cab. I was only going to be out in the cold windy hell hole that is the outdoors at night in the winter in Portland, for a few seconds, so I didn’t even think to bring a coat, or any of the other useful things that were just on the other side of that fucking glass window. Did I mention that it was about 8:59 pm when I went into the store? And the store closed at 9pm. I was THEE last customer; they locked the door behind me on the way out. I walked to my cab and there were my keys, dangling from the ignition like some kind of sick fucking joke. The cab was mocking me. Up until this point the night was really good, I remember having a fist full of cash. Oh yeah, I had a wallet full of cash, it was in my pocket, and that’s all that was in my pocket, cash and now I had a bottle of water. I franticly checked all my pockets for the extra key that I always carry with me when I drive. Cab or no cab, I learned a long time ago that I’m a total fucking moron and that I lock my keys in the car all time. I always keep an extra key to my cab in my pocket and to my personal car in my wallet, but not this day. On this day, the only available key was in the car, and that’s because only one key exists for this god damn cab. When the idea that I was totally fucked sunk in, that’s when I turned around to see the nice Asian couple locking their doors and getting in their car to go home. I was fucked.

I managed to trade the shop keepers some paper money for some coins they had in their pockets. I think I got something like a buck fifty for a five dollar bill. I shivered over to the pay phone by the wall and called dispatch, surly they could help. They told me to call back in a minute, before I could explain anything they hung up wasting two of my precious quarters. I waited. When I got a hold of them they searched high and low at the shop but there were no keys anywhere. They gave me the number for Pop-a-Lock a local company that will open your door if you’re too stupid to function like a normal person and bring the keys with you when you get out of your car. I used my last two quarters to call them… 45 minutes they said.
It was 30 degrees outside. The wind was blowing at 500 miles per hour. And it was fucking pouring rain. My long sleeve shirt was not cutting it. I had about worn a hole in the sidewalk pacing back and forth. After an hour I was about to give up completely and just leave the cab there and walk to the nearest bar (not close) to forget this day ever happened, just as soon as I could feel my face again. I figured someone had to walk by willing to trade another five dollar bill for some change so I could at least call. I must have asked 50 people for change, not free change I was offering money for it, and no one would help me. I was shaking so bad that most people ran off at the mere sight of me. Finally someone gave me two quarters and I happily handed them a five. It was going to be another hour.

I really didn’t know what to do. It was now after 10 pm and no place within decent walking distance was open so I couldn’t walk somewhere to get warm then walk back. I had no phone for these fuckers to call me on when they got there. I had no change to call anyone else for help. I just had to wait. And wait. And freeze. And wait.

Finally the dude showed up. He opened the door in about half a second, charged me $60, and left. I was saved. I drove my cab straight back to work to turn it in and hit the bar. When I got to the bar it was closed for someone funeral or something. Yeah, it’s true. So I went home and tried to pretend that this day never happened.

Radio Cab 18 - Taco Bell Meth Junky on the Toilet

Taco Bell Meth Junky on the Toilet

Around ten o’clock I got an order to an address that looked familiar. I soon realized it was the address for my bank on north Killingsworth and Interstate, the problem was that it was a Sunday and my bank was closed therefore the “customer” that supposedly called for a cab was really just someone standing on the corner at the bus stop, and this isn’t the best bus stop in town to be picking up at. I don’t mean that people are necessarily dangerous at this bus stop, just that your chances of getting paid might be a little lower and your chances of something weird happening might be a little higher. It was a slow night and I was hungry for cash being the end of the month and all, so I didn’t flag the order. Really you never know when something like that could take up to Seattle or out to the coast, you just never know. Anyway, these people were not going to Seattle and they were not going to the coast.

When I pulled up there were two groups of two people at the bus stop. One group consisted of two twenty-something neighborhood dudes just waiting for the bus dressed in normal clothes and looking very non-threatening. I was hoping to god that these were my people. But just as I rolled down my window they looked up, shook their heads and pointed to the other two people at the bus stop. I back up the cab about ten feet and in comes a swaggering twitching sore ridden woman. She’s got on an expensive and brand new looking maroon fedora, filthy torn shirt, meth worn pants with what look like blood stains on them, and pair of bright orange straight off the shelf Nike shoes that I believe still had the tags on them and probably were on their way to being some kids new basketball shoes before this lady got a hold of them. With her she had two plastic grocery bags, one was filled with what appeared to be trash (and I mean TRASH, like straight out of a trash can behind a sleazy motel or something), the other looked to be a bag of wet clothes, mostly socks. She also had an arm load of Taco Bell and a paper bag with a cracked 40oz.

I could barely take my eyes off this woman, kind of like staring at a car crash or a burning building, you just can’t look away. I almost didn’t notice the perfectly normal looking black man that hopped in with her. He was in a clean tan sweater, nice pants, his hair was trimmed. He didn’t look scummy at all, an average dude. Boy, were these two a couple. The lady was flying back and forth twitching and grinding her teeth, scratching herself, and making a terrible mess with her Taco Bell. I have absolutely no idea why I didn’t kick them out right then and there. It was obvious within the first two seconds of having this lady in the car that something bad would happen. This lady looked like she couldn’t walk half a block without getting into some kind of trouble. For some reason though, this particular Sunday afternoon, I decided I really wanted to see how this thing would play out. I think cab driving for me is turning into some sick perversion or something. I just had to know what would happen. I had absolutely no expectation of getting any money from this fare, even with the normal guy with her this lady with her missing teeth and grinding jaw was just too horrible to pass up.

So we get to it. I asked where they were going, turns out its two stops, him first of course, 14th and Sumner, not too far. I pull out and we’re off. We don’t get half a block and this lady starts raving about God knows what, there’s no way either myself or the guy in the back could possibly understand a word she’s saying. Aside from the slurring of her Taco Bell filled gums she’s swaying back and forth so fast and talking in so many circles that I almost didn’t notice that she was also drooling on herself. Trying to ignore her I just drive to this poor guy’s house, I’m assuming that they were just at the bus stop together and he, for some god awful reason, was splitting a cab with her. Then I looked back in the rear view. They were making out! And I don’t mean just kissing, she had a fucking mouth full of Nachos Bell Grande and they were swapping it back and forth like 6th graders and a piece of gum. There was processed cheese and stale chips flying everywhere. I almost crashed the car when I saw her tongue slide up the side of his face. This man was no longer clean and nowhere near normal anymore. He was now a super freak. He just looked normal, this guy was into some shit that I hope I never have to see or hear about again. I’ve come across some gross situations in my life. I’ve been around kids and dogs and all their grossness. I’ve seen people on nasty drugs and people doing all kinds of weird shit on the internet, but this. This topped it all; it was by far the most disgusting thing I’ve witnessed in my life. To be that close, I could smell he fast food nacho breath moving from her revolting-ass mouth to his, infecting his once clean and healthy aura. A normal cab driver would have stopped the car, gotten his $5.50 and kicked them out into five o’clock traffic on MLK, but not me, I just watched it all the way to his house. I couldn’t stop. I did throw up a little in my mouth I think, and that almost made me throw them out, but I held it together.

When we got to his house he pleaded with the crazy woman and tried as best he could to get her to stay with him. That poor man, he’d been infected with crazy. His mind was now filled with dreams of Taco Bell scarffing meth junkies that want to take life to the next level of weird. He would obviously never be the same again. She would have no part of it though. She explained to me on the way to her house (at least this is what I think she said, it was near impossible to understand a word, and it was too nauseating to look back and try to read her lips) that she wanted to go home and sleep, he wanted her to come in and “party” (stay up longer doing drugs) and that sometimes you just have to say that enough is enough. Somehow this woman was the voice of reason in their short lived relationship.
She lived across town on 52nd and Division. This was going to mean another fifteen minutes of waiting in traffic and her crazy talk from the back seat. Not to mention all the mess she was making that could only get bigger. For the 19 blocks up to 33rd from 14th she was talking a mile a minute and was only catching about a word or two out of every run on sentence she threw at me. When we hit 33rd she was starting to quiet down, nodding out I think. The mess in the back seat was unbelievable. This was the only woman on the planet capable of this kind of filth. When we got to 39th she was out like a light, beer in hand and a Taco Bell pillow. Her trash and wet clothes was her blanket. Then that damn stop sign on Glisan. I glanced back just I applied the brake. Her hand just let go of the open 40oz and down it when pouring out all over the floor of my cab. I yelled at her to wake up. She snapped into an upright position and immediately apologized as if she was suddenly some kind of normal person and rules of common decency that once need not apply to her were now common place. She started telling me that she would take care of it when we got to her place and how sorry she was, on and on. Then she fell asleep again, this time with the cap on her beer.

I pulled up to her house and woke her up. She did another quick snap to an upright position. I said, “Its twenty three dollars.” Hoping that she was still that nice respectable person she was for thirty seconds when she spilled 40 ounces of malt liquor in my car, but of course not. She just closed her eyes and fell asleep right there, sitting up. I woke her again and she cursed me and fell back to sleep. I really didn’t want to have to touch this woman to get her out of the cab. I woke her again and thank God she started to get out… not having paid me yet. She threw the door open and tossed remainder of her Taco Bell on the sidewalk. Then threw to the bag of trash on the sidewalk (what‘s the point of carrying trash around with you if you’re just going to skater it somewhere else). She gathered her wet clothes and empty beer and got out. Then she told me to follow her around the corner. We argued for a minute about what would happen around the corner, mostly because I couldn’t understand what she was trying to tell me. You try dealing with a drunk-stoned meth junky with no teeth who owes you twenty five bucks and get back to me about how it goes.

I followed her to her door as she yelled and apologized and yelled some more. The beer in the car was long forgotten. I still expected not to get paid, but she kept telling me there was money to be had, she just had to go inside to get it for me. She opened the door, inside was a dark staircase that she somehow made it to the top of without plummeting to her death. At the top of the stairs she started screaming at me to go ahead and call the cops and telling me that I could fuck off and die. Then it got abruptly silent. The door was still open down stairs and she hadn’t turned any lights on yet in the house. My guess was that she passed out and I’d never see her again unless I wanted to go into her house, which by the way, was not going to happen. Then came the familiar sound of urine in a toilet, this woman was taking a piss, and a long one, it was going on forever. Then came the plopping, she was going all out up there, but still not talking. She finally yelled down the stairs to me and told me to reach in and turn on a light. This lady was obviously pissing and shitting at the top of the stairs and there was no way I was going to turn any lights on, besides I already decided not to go in the house. All of a sudden a light came on and a large black man appeared at the top of the stairs, he yelled down, “Who the fuck are you?” I told him I was the cab driver and that the woman owed me thirty bucks for her ride home. He moved down the hall and away from the top of the stairs to revile behind him the crazy woman sitting on a toilet pants around her ankles shaking her fist yelling, “Don’t you give him a penny over twenty!” The man came down and turned out to be her 15 year old son. He handed me a twenty dollar bill and said sorry. I told him I was sorry too, and I left.

When I got back to the cab the mess in the back was completely absurd. I did a quick once over to get all the trash and Taco Bell out of the car and left most of the beer, and that lovely beer smell that came with for the rest of the night. Every other customer must have either been drunk or assumed that I was drunk because that car smelled like the inside of that woman’s mouth for the next six to ten hours that I was driving it.