Let me introduce you to some of the new friend I met this weekend:
- A lesbian who discussed classical music and Taxi Cab Confessional with me (and I thought she was trying to pick me up until I found out she was a lesbian)
- A metal rocker chick who thought I was latino
- Some random guy who couldn't shut the hell up about Pearl Jam and Maroon 5 (He seemed to be disappointed when I mentioned that I had wanted to see Arcade Fire in concert when they were here)
- A wedding party that thought Crazy Cactus was the height of fun and enjoyment in this city
- A guy who wore a tuxedo shirt to a wedding reception at a church
- The owner/manager of Finn's pub who gave me some mediocre coupons
- A 90 year old man of English descent who has been on 9 cruises in Alaska
- A group that claimed to be the band playing at Amigo's on Friday night
- A carpenter who claimed to have built the stage at Amigo's that said band played on
- Some bitch who criticized my navigation skills when I totally went the fastest and shortest route
- Some asshole who smelled of the MJ and changed my music (I invented a 10th circle of hell for people who change my music)
- A homeless man who looked like Little Richard
- A boyfriend who had me drive halfway across the city to pick up his 'idiot' girlfriend who decided she wanted to walk home from a bar in a miniskirt through one of the sketchiest areas of the city.
- A group from Scratch that looked homeless and had me track down their equally homeless-looking friend who was at that point wandering through a Tim Horton's parking lot across town (I secretly hoped we could have done a drive-by pick-up where we don't stop, open the door, and he jumps in as we pass him...alas, this did not happen)
I have judged all these people. When people ask me what my profession is, I should start telling them that I am a judge. You get into my cab, I judge you...I judge your drunkenness, I judge your stories, I judge your clothes....I judge you.
In the process of writing that I have noticed who silly the word 'judge' is...especially when you repeat it and use it as a verb.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
iPod Win
As the city slowly made its way home from the fireworks festival, the streets became ever more filled and job became ever more difficult to do with haste. As a result I arrived at one particular house at 10:55 which had called for a taxi at 10:45.
'We have a question...' the drunken girls said with a tone of displeasure, 'if we make an appointment for 10:45 and you are 10 minutes late, causing us to be late for our 11:00 deadline, does that mean we get a discount?'
I received the call for this job only 3 minutes prior, and made good time in getting there as quickly as I did. Giving a discount for this ride would be punishing only myself for the actions of the city being busy and these girls not giving themselves any room for error in their booking. Demanding a discount is the equivalent of being angry at the weather and kicking a nearby dog in rage. I understand their displeasure, but I have no part in this.
While they continued to rage in the backseat my iPod interfered with a song that just happened to be one of the lead ragers' favourites. Her rage was halted mid-sentence as she shifted gears. 'ooo...what song is this? Is this your music?'
Of course it's my music you crazy woman.
Seeing the opportunity, I immediately passed her my iPod to shut her up. She seemed quite pleased with my selections and took the opportunity to play The Temptations, Tokyo Police Club, Royksopp, and Tom Petty.
Her old rage was long gone by now and her drunken friends soon followed suit.
When we eventually got to the club, 3 minutes past their 11:00 deadline, I offered them a discount by saying they only had to pay $10 of the $16 that the meter demanded of them. They quickly objected with comments of 'best cab ride ever!' and paid about $15.
...and that my friends, is how my job goes from bad to good in a span of less than ten minutes.
'We have a question...' the drunken girls said with a tone of displeasure, 'if we make an appointment for 10:45 and you are 10 minutes late, causing us to be late for our 11:00 deadline, does that mean we get a discount?'
I received the call for this job only 3 minutes prior, and made good time in getting there as quickly as I did. Giving a discount for this ride would be punishing only myself for the actions of the city being busy and these girls not giving themselves any room for error in their booking. Demanding a discount is the equivalent of being angry at the weather and kicking a nearby dog in rage. I understand their displeasure, but I have no part in this.
While they continued to rage in the backseat my iPod interfered with a song that just happened to be one of the lead ragers' favourites. Her rage was halted mid-sentence as she shifted gears. 'ooo...what song is this? Is this your music?'
Of course it's my music you crazy woman.
Seeing the opportunity, I immediately passed her my iPod to shut her up. She seemed quite pleased with my selections and took the opportunity to play The Temptations, Tokyo Police Club, Royksopp, and Tom Petty.
Her old rage was long gone by now and her drunken friends soon followed suit.
When we eventually got to the club, 3 minutes past their 11:00 deadline, I offered them a discount by saying they only had to pay $10 of the $16 that the meter demanded of them. They quickly objected with comments of 'best cab ride ever!' and paid about $15.
...and that my friends, is how my job goes from bad to good in a span of less than ten minutes.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Hand-Me-Down Taxi
After 3 taxi-free months I am finally back behind the wheel...and unfortunately my time off meant I lost my old ride and now have a new vehicle (even though it's still the ten seven).
I don't like it. It's new, and technically better, but it's different. Me and old taxi, we were good pals. She wasn't perfect but I knew her faults and I accepted them. We were comfortable with each other. She was like a pair of old shoes. This new taxi is like a new pair of shoes. I haven't accepted them yet, they aren't mine. They're not even good shoes...they're all beat up and shitty. It's not a new pair of shoes at all! It's a pair of hand-me-down shoes from my older brother.
I want my old shoes back god-damn it!
I have the following complaints about my new taxi:
1. I can't listen to my music
2. The radio is where I rest my knee
3. The side door doesn't close properly
4. I can't listen to my music!
5. The gas gauge does not work and goes from full to empty to full every 5 minutes
6. the steering wheel has tape on it
7. I can't listen to my music!!!
8. I have to adjust the seat manually instead of my old electric one
9. I Can't
10. Listen To
11. MY MUSIC!!!!!!
Okay, that said, I can listen to my music. However, I need my FM transmitter which only lasts 5-6 hours whereas my cables in the old taxi lasted all night long. Allll Night Looooooong.
In addition to all this: I drove a drunk lady who I had a marketing call with AIESEC. I was accused of smoking in my cab by some very drunk, angry ladies. I watched the pretty fireworks (which really weren't that great). At one point, they had 3 of 4 bridges in the city closed.
I have decided that I no longer wish to be called a taxi driver. That's kind of a shitty job to have. Instead, I'll refer to myself as a taxi pilot. Pilots are cool. I'll also add a 'Dr.' to my title because I have a PHd in driving your drunk-ass home. I could also throw a 'Cpt.' in front of that because I'm a captain of the evening roads.
Cpt. Dr. Carson Widynowski - Taxi Pilot
....I want business cards.
I don't like it. It's new, and technically better, but it's different. Me and old taxi, we were good pals. She wasn't perfect but I knew her faults and I accepted them. We were comfortable with each other. She was like a pair of old shoes. This new taxi is like a new pair of shoes. I haven't accepted them yet, they aren't mine. They're not even good shoes...they're all beat up and shitty. It's not a new pair of shoes at all! It's a pair of hand-me-down shoes from my older brother.
I want my old shoes back god-damn it!
I have the following complaints about my new taxi:
1. I can't listen to my music
2. The radio is where I rest my knee
3. The side door doesn't close properly
4. I can't listen to my music!
5. The gas gauge does not work and goes from full to empty to full every 5 minutes
6. the steering wheel has tape on it
7. I can't listen to my music!!!
8. I have to adjust the seat manually instead of my old electric one
9. I Can't
10. Listen To
11. MY MUSIC!!!!!!
Okay, that said, I can listen to my music. However, I need my FM transmitter which only lasts 5-6 hours whereas my cables in the old taxi lasted all night long. Allll Night Looooooong.
In addition to all this: I drove a drunk lady who I had a marketing call with AIESEC. I was accused of smoking in my cab by some very drunk, angry ladies. I watched the pretty fireworks (which really weren't that great). At one point, they had 3 of 4 bridges in the city closed.
I have decided that I no longer wish to be called a taxi driver. That's kind of a shitty job to have. Instead, I'll refer to myself as a taxi pilot. Pilots are cool. I'll also add a 'Dr.' to my title because I have a PHd in driving your drunk-ass home. I could also throw a 'Cpt.' in front of that because I'm a captain of the evening roads.
Cpt. Dr. Carson Widynowski - Taxi Pilot
....I want business cards.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Hookers
I'd like to take a minute here to talk about my fellow night workers, the prostitutes of Saskatoon.
I want to start off by saying that from a business perspective the prostitute industry is quite fascinating. Hookers, at least in Saskatoon, do not dress like hookers you see in movies. They do not approach you. They do not dress slutty, and they are not aggressive. They don't really advertise themselves in any way. For the last four years, I've been learning about businesses and how to create awareness of your product, of your brand, of your image...and here's an industry doing the opposite. Just interesting I suppose...
With all this secrecy, it's extraordinary to note how everybody still knows what the prostitution situation is in the city. A few months back, most of the hookers in Saskatoon moved from 20th street to 19th street....and almost everyone in the city knew about it. It was the topic of conversation in my cab, common knowledge that the hookers had moved. This information is only so good though. While people still talk about the hookers being on 19th street, their move actually only lasted a couple weeks. After that, they moved back to their regular spots on 20th street.
Some more information about hookers:
1) they usually don't work that late. After midnight you don't see that many out on the corners.
2) real hookers dress in sweatpants and hoodies, and don't advertise themselves
3) real hookers stand on corners west of the traintracks (between Ave L and Ave J)
4) police sting hookers stand on corners east of the traintracks, and they advertise. If you see a 'hooker' advertising themselves flamboyantly near the top of the alphabet, drive around the corner, there will be a cop car with all its lights turned out.
5) the officer who poses as a hooker is short with blond, spiky hair. Occasionally a brown-haired native officer poses as the hooker, she is more convincing...but the blond is more aggressive.
Due to conversations in my cab I've learned the following about hookers:
-if you bring 'the stuff', you get a discount
-business is conducted at the hooker's place
-hookers with kids ask for a few extra bucks to send their kids to the store and get them out of the house
-the best hookers are around Ave N, the more west you get from that, the worse they are.
I feel no reason to justify myself as to why I know all this. Hookers are an attraction of this city, if I'm driving people who don't live here and we go down 20th street I make a note of pointing it out. People are interested in the hooker situation....that's just the way things are. Think about it, when you saw this blog title, were you indifferent? Or were you interested in reading about hookers? Maybe it's just because it's still so taboo and yet still so very visible and a part of our society.
I'd like to end off by saying 'No', despite the suggestion I received tonight, I do not plan on befriending hookers in order to attain a discount.
I hope this was informative.
I want to start off by saying that from a business perspective the prostitute industry is quite fascinating. Hookers, at least in Saskatoon, do not dress like hookers you see in movies. They do not approach you. They do not dress slutty, and they are not aggressive. They don't really advertise themselves in any way. For the last four years, I've been learning about businesses and how to create awareness of your product, of your brand, of your image...and here's an industry doing the opposite. Just interesting I suppose...
With all this secrecy, it's extraordinary to note how everybody still knows what the prostitution situation is in the city. A few months back, most of the hookers in Saskatoon moved from 20th street to 19th street....and almost everyone in the city knew about it. It was the topic of conversation in my cab, common knowledge that the hookers had moved. This information is only so good though. While people still talk about the hookers being on 19th street, their move actually only lasted a couple weeks. After that, they moved back to their regular spots on 20th street.
Some more information about hookers:
1) they usually don't work that late. After midnight you don't see that many out on the corners.
2) real hookers dress in sweatpants and hoodies, and don't advertise themselves
3) real hookers stand on corners west of the traintracks (between Ave L and Ave J)
4) police sting hookers stand on corners east of the traintracks, and they advertise. If you see a 'hooker' advertising themselves flamboyantly near the top of the alphabet, drive around the corner, there will be a cop car with all its lights turned out.
5) the officer who poses as a hooker is short with blond, spiky hair. Occasionally a brown-haired native officer poses as the hooker, she is more convincing...but the blond is more aggressive.
Due to conversations in my cab I've learned the following about hookers:
-if you bring 'the stuff', you get a discount
-business is conducted at the hooker's place
-hookers with kids ask for a few extra bucks to send their kids to the store and get them out of the house
-the best hookers are around Ave N, the more west you get from that, the worse they are.
I feel no reason to justify myself as to why I know all this. Hookers are an attraction of this city, if I'm driving people who don't live here and we go down 20th street I make a note of pointing it out. People are interested in the hooker situation....that's just the way things are. Think about it, when you saw this blog title, were you indifferent? Or were you interested in reading about hookers? Maybe it's just because it's still so taboo and yet still so very visible and a part of our society.
I'd like to end off by saying 'No', despite the suggestion I received tonight, I do not plan on befriending hookers in order to attain a discount.
I hope this was informative.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Blame The Devil Rabbit
I justify what happened tonight by the following excuses:
1. He was probably speeding
2. Technically, he hit me
3. Stonebridge is stupid
4. It's the rabbit's fault
If I had taken the night off last night....I would have broken even, a man on a motorcycle would have driven down Hartley Road, an average drive home, and I probably would have stayed in watching movies in my underwear.
Instead...
I sat parked at an intersection in Stonebridge, where I would usually turn left and head away from this treacherous neighbourhood, where I have had more problem customers than in the alphabet jungle and Sutherland combined. However, fate had other plans (cue dramatic music). Out of the corner of my eye I saw a jackrabbit running down the sidewalk to the right. As it was a slow evening I decided to pursue the rabbit. It wasn't long before my pursuit proved fruitless and the rabbit hopped off into a nearby backyard. I drove for a few more blocks and decided the filth of Stonebridge was no longer worthy of my presence. With no traffic in sight I weaved right into an avenue with the intention of buying room to make a leftward u-turn. I check my rearview mirror one more time, weaved left, an-OH MY GOD THERE"S A MOTORCYCLE!
Screech!
Thunk!
...and a man on a motorcycle rolls on down the road.
I immediately ran off after him. After cursing me out for a few minutes he said that he didn't need an ambulance but that I should call the cops. A few minutes later his friends showed up, and then a few minutes after that the cops showed up. After figuring out he was okay, my thoughts began to turn other implications this might have. Do I still have my license (already a few points off)? Do I still have a job? Can I still afford to go to Ukraine this summer? I had never been in this situation so I wasn't sure what to expect. I was also feeling generally terrible and almost freaking out.
Fortunately, everything after this went smoothly. Despite a couple scratches the driver of the motorcycle was okay. He shook my hand and said there were no hard feelings about this. The cop was really good about it all and convinced his sergeant that what I did was not reckless driving and instead was just an improper lane change. This reduced my fine from $280 to $125 and only one point off my license instead of three. With the money I 'saved' I offered to buy them a couple 40s but they declined, shrugged their shoulders, and said: 'shit happens'.
So in the end it all worked out. With the time I missed and a $125 fine in pocket, I ended up losing $30 on the night....but that's only $3 an hour when you think of it....that I paid in order to have the privilege of driving drunk assholes around.
Could have been a lot worse....
In other news, I have a BlackBerry, which means I have unlimited internet while I'm driving.....which means Twitter.
@CarsonWid (<-------tweets posted on left-hand side of blog)
...still getting used to it, will post random updates about customers and will use the blog for ranting.
1. He was probably speeding
2. Technically, he hit me
3. Stonebridge is stupid
4. It's the rabbit's fault
If I had taken the night off last night....I would have broken even, a man on a motorcycle would have driven down Hartley Road, an average drive home, and I probably would have stayed in watching movies in my underwear.
Instead...
I sat parked at an intersection in Stonebridge, where I would usually turn left and head away from this treacherous neighbourhood, where I have had more problem customers than in the alphabet jungle and Sutherland combined. However, fate had other plans (cue dramatic music). Out of the corner of my eye I saw a jackrabbit running down the sidewalk to the right. As it was a slow evening I decided to pursue the rabbit. It wasn't long before my pursuit proved fruitless and the rabbit hopped off into a nearby backyard. I drove for a few more blocks and decided the filth of Stonebridge was no longer worthy of my presence. With no traffic in sight I weaved right into an avenue with the intention of buying room to make a leftward u-turn. I check my rearview mirror one more time, weaved left, an-OH MY GOD THERE"S A MOTORCYCLE!
Screech!
Thunk!
...and a man on a motorcycle rolls on down the road.
I immediately ran off after him. After cursing me out for a few minutes he said that he didn't need an ambulance but that I should call the cops. A few minutes later his friends showed up, and then a few minutes after that the cops showed up. After figuring out he was okay, my thoughts began to turn other implications this might have. Do I still have my license (already a few points off)? Do I still have a job? Can I still afford to go to Ukraine this summer? I had never been in this situation so I wasn't sure what to expect. I was also feeling generally terrible and almost freaking out.
Fortunately, everything after this went smoothly. Despite a couple scratches the driver of the motorcycle was okay. He shook my hand and said there were no hard feelings about this. The cop was really good about it all and convinced his sergeant that what I did was not reckless driving and instead was just an improper lane change. This reduced my fine from $280 to $125 and only one point off my license instead of three. With the money I 'saved' I offered to buy them a couple 40s but they declined, shrugged their shoulders, and said: 'shit happens'.
So in the end it all worked out. With the time I missed and a $125 fine in pocket, I ended up losing $30 on the night....but that's only $3 an hour when you think of it....that I paid in order to have the privilege of driving drunk assholes around.
Could have been a lot worse....
In other news, I have a BlackBerry, which means I have unlimited internet while I'm driving.....which means Twitter.
@CarsonWid (<-------tweets posted on left-hand side of blog)
...still getting used to it, will post random updates about customers and will use the blog for ranting.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
....A Fucking Stalion
Where to begin...
One lady asked me to drop her off on the outskirts of town because she was going to hitchhike the 5 hour drive to see her daughter. Her daughter didn't want her to come but dammit she was coming anyway. She was either high on drugs or possibly retarded, I couldn't quite tell. We had an in-depth conversation about what it meant to be family. Usually during these conversations I just nod my head and say 'definitely'. She wanted me to drop on the very outskirts of town but I elected to drop her at the gas station, mainly because if she wandered off into a field and died it can't really come back to haunt me. I didn't drop her in a field, if she's there it's her own doing. I dropped her at the gas station.
While walking back to my cab after knocking at a door, one cougar said I had a cute shirt, and a cute ass. I got a $7 tip out of that fare.
One guy got into my cab at Outlaws and said: 'You look sharp, you're a fucking stalion!'. While I took this as a complement I found it weird that he called me a stalion about 7 more times on the ride home. He wasn't hitting on me or anything, but his girlfriend was in the backseat and he kept saying how much he loved her...but he kept calling me a stalion. He asked my name and I told him I was Daniel.
9 people in the cab on the way to a foam party....ho-hum.
One of my regulars, Ward, called me as he usually does and I drove him to the west side. He called me later that evening to come pick him up. When I got there he was a wooden fist tucked into his pants and was missing a shoe. I later learned that he lost one of his shoes and suspected it was stolen. In anger, he stole a sculture of a wooden fist as revenge. He didn't plan on holding it as hostage to get his shoe, he just stole it:
On the ride home he rolled down his window and held the fist out yelling 'black power!' at bystanders who wanted a cab. At one point a hot chick wanted the cab so he opened the side door (cab hasn't stopped at this point) and told her they could go back to her place. She jumped in, jumped out, and then took another cab with her friends. The side door remained open for about 3 blocks before Ward shut it (without leaving the front seat, and without the cab stopping). It's pretty much suicide to stop my cab on Broadway at 3 AM. 10 people would jump in if I did, all trying to go to different places.
Eventually I got Ward home.
Later in the evening I picked 3 ladies who had an interesting story about their last cab driver. Apparently they were stil getting into the cab when the cabbie peeled away with one girl half in the cab and the doors not shut. They driver got super-pissed and physically threw them out of the cab (literally, picked one girl up and threw her out). They told me they suspected he was on drugs, I told them they were probably right. These were probably my nicest customers of the evening though, we talked about many things including why I was a cab driver, having kids, school, and....
I don't know how we got on the subject, but they ended up telling me a story about someone they knew in McNab Park. They didn't want to go to their house because they found out the cat had been raped and they didn't know who did it. WTF! The cat......got raped.....
My next customers were embarrassed because they were telling a story about her boyfriend who had to start jerking himself to get started during sex. They said it was probably a crazy story and they were sorry I had to listen to it. My response was: 'Hey, my last customer told me a story about a cat getting raped...compared to that your story is tame'. They freaked out.
One lady asked me to drop her off on the outskirts of town because she was going to hitchhike the 5 hour drive to see her daughter. Her daughter didn't want her to come but dammit she was coming anyway. She was either high on drugs or possibly retarded, I couldn't quite tell. We had an in-depth conversation about what it meant to be family. Usually during these conversations I just nod my head and say 'definitely'. She wanted me to drop on the very outskirts of town but I elected to drop her at the gas station, mainly because if she wandered off into a field and died it can't really come back to haunt me. I didn't drop her in a field, if she's there it's her own doing. I dropped her at the gas station.
While walking back to my cab after knocking at a door, one cougar said I had a cute shirt, and a cute ass. I got a $7 tip out of that fare.
One guy got into my cab at Outlaws and said: 'You look sharp, you're a fucking stalion!'. While I took this as a complement I found it weird that he called me a stalion about 7 more times on the ride home. He wasn't hitting on me or anything, but his girlfriend was in the backseat and he kept saying how much he loved her...but he kept calling me a stalion. He asked my name and I told him I was Daniel.
9 people in the cab on the way to a foam party....ho-hum.
One of my regulars, Ward, called me as he usually does and I drove him to the west side. He called me later that evening to come pick him up. When I got there he was a wooden fist tucked into his pants and was missing a shoe. I later learned that he lost one of his shoes and suspected it was stolen. In anger, he stole a sculture of a wooden fist as revenge. He didn't plan on holding it as hostage to get his shoe, he just stole it:
On the ride home he rolled down his window and held the fist out yelling 'black power!' at bystanders who wanted a cab. At one point a hot chick wanted the cab so he opened the side door (cab hasn't stopped at this point) and told her they could go back to her place. She jumped in, jumped out, and then took another cab with her friends. The side door remained open for about 3 blocks before Ward shut it (without leaving the front seat, and without the cab stopping). It's pretty much suicide to stop my cab on Broadway at 3 AM. 10 people would jump in if I did, all trying to go to different places.
Eventually I got Ward home.
Later in the evening I picked 3 ladies who had an interesting story about their last cab driver. Apparently they were stil getting into the cab when the cabbie peeled away with one girl half in the cab and the doors not shut. They driver got super-pissed and physically threw them out of the cab (literally, picked one girl up and threw her out). They told me they suspected he was on drugs, I told them they were probably right. These were probably my nicest customers of the evening though, we talked about many things including why I was a cab driver, having kids, school, and....
I don't know how we got on the subject, but they ended up telling me a story about someone they knew in McNab Park. They didn't want to go to their house because they found out the cat had been raped and they didn't know who did it. WTF! The cat......got raped.....
My next customers were embarrassed because they were telling a story about her boyfriend who had to start jerking himself to get started during sex. They said it was probably a crazy story and they were sorry I had to listen to it. My response was: 'Hey, my last customer told me a story about a cat getting raped...compared to that your story is tame'. They freaked out.
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