XXXVIII

I was on the nut at the MGM last night. The clock had just struck one and things were starting to slow down for the evening. I had the cab in park and had already been in the on deck circle a few minutes before an early forties white man sporting a pink dress shirt, blue jeans and loafers without any socks on finally walked up from around the corner. He began a conversation with the doorman but they were to far away for me to hear it. They talked for a while to the point that after I had engaged the cab in gear when he first approached, I had grown tired of holding the brake pedal down and eventually put it back in park again. Amongst the conversation, I noticed the doorman point in a generally westward direction towards the Excalibur on a few occasions. Shortly thereafter, the man took a few paces in that direction and then apparently thinking better of the idea, turned around and marched back to the loading area as if to say "fuck it, I'll just take a cab".

The doorman blew the whistle, I put the cab back in gear and pulled up alongside him so he could open the back door. The gentleman got in and quickly gave the destination:

3400 east Tropicana please.

I was pleasantly surprised in getting a decent ride at this slow hour, particularly after it initially appeared that where ever it was he was headed was within walking distance. So I activated the meter, wrote down the address on my trip sheet and made my way towards the left turn lane exiting the MGM's property onto Tropicana.

We sat for a minute at the red light, and after it changed I made the left going eastbound towards the 3400 block. As soon as I completed the turn my passenger says in a voice similar to that of an 8 year old who just scrapped his knees falling off his dirt bike:

Where are you going?

It's obvious from this statement that he thinks that I'm long hauling him, or taking a route that's longer than necessary as a means of running the meter up. But of course, anybody who actually knows what the fuck they're talking about, or anybody with any common sense whatsoever, would tell you that the best way to get from the east 100 block of Tropicana, to the east 3400 block of Tropicana would be to travel farther east. You shouldn't need a two thousand dollar navigation system to figure that one out. So not really appreciating the accusation, I calmly turned down my sun visor to reveal what I had written down on my trip sheet, and read it out loud:

3400 east Tropicana.

He immediately replied:

I know that smartass! Why are you taking me this way?

I'm sorry sir, I don't understand?

I told you to take me to 3400 east Tropicana!

That's correct. I wrote it down.

I said as I pointed towards my trip sheet.

Driver, you're taking me the wrong way, we're supposed to be going that way!

He said as he points his thumb towards the opposite way we were headed, in a generally westward direction. I already knew the answer to my next question. Well actually, I knew the answers to all of these questions but I was having too much fun to stop now.

Says who?

I just asked the doorman where this address was and he said it was that way!

He said as points his thumb west again.

Well sir, I don't know what to tell you except to say that I think the best way to get to the 3400 block of east Tropicana from here would be to head east on Tropicana. You think differently?

I know how you cabbies are driver, are you calling the doorman a liar?

By this point he'd abandoned the Eight year old scrapped knee thing and jumped directly to the I have a pink shirt on and know more about this town than any low-life cabbie thing.

No sir, I don't believe I've called anyone anything....We can go that way if you'd like, however I wouldn't recommended it.

Listen just get me there alright, but you'd better not be trying to fuck me.

I'm straight sir.

I guess at this point it's worth noting that I knew this guy was a pillow biter before he even got in the cab. If you're wondering what gave it away, it was less his attire and more just the way he carried himself. Furthermore, I also knew the place he was going, it's a place called the "Eagle" or something like that. I'd gotten a ride there a long time ago and it's a known gay bar. Nonetheless after I'd just finished saying perhaps the funniest words to ever come out of my mouth, our gay accuser wasn't so amused.

THAT'S NOT FUNNY! Listen, fuck you, and just get me there alright?

With that, I didn't say another word. Well, not until a mile or so went by and we drove past the airport and crossed over Paradise Road anyway. At that point our flamer friend couldn't help himself and he eventually repeats the question that we both knew the answer to:

Where are you going?

Again I turned down the sun visor and pretended to read it aloud:

3400 east Tropicana

I know that you fuck! The doorman said that it was only a couple of blocks!

This is the same person who told you we should travel west to get to the east side of town?

Listen man, if you're giving me the runaround here we're going to have problems.

WE ALREADY HAVE PROBLEMS! YOU'RE ACCUSING ME OF SOME BULLSHIT AND YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!

I abandoned the passive aggressive bit and skipped straight to the pissed off and don't fuck with me bit. I was having fun, but I'd had enough. So I continued:

Listen man, I don't appreciate the accusations ok? It's obvious you don't know what the fuck you're talking about so why don't you just drop it? Las Vegas BLVD is the zero divider on Tropicana. Therefore, in order to get to the 3400 block of east Tropicana we must travel approximately 3.4 miles EAST! It's not rocket science dude. Get a fucking compass if you don't believe me. But in the meantime please shut the fuck up and let me do my job. Like some doorman knows what the fuck he's talking about anyway...

That felt good actually. It's not very often I yell at a passenger but they deserve it every time and it feels good every time.

Neither of us said a word for the remainder of the ride. Which mind you, only lasted about 3 more minutes or so. When we got to the intersection at Pecos I made a left turn and then an immediate right into the massive strip mall containing the "Eagle" among dozens of other businesses. I positioned the cab so the passenger side was directly in front of the front door to the bar and turned the meter off.

How did you know I was going here?

I turned around in my seat and looked at the guy, but said nothing.

You're a good fucking cab driver, you know that?

I'm straight remember?

He laughed as he exited the cab and handed me forty dollars for the twenty dollar fare.

Back to work.

XXXVII

I loaded a couple at the Wynn. The doorman/Shaquille O'Neal lookalike opened the door and the young attractive brunette escorted by a well dressed middle aged gentleman climbed into the backseat. They made themselves comfortable and told me their destination of the MGM as Shaq thanked them for the dollar and closed the door. Upon hearing the destination, I reacted by noting the time and "MGM" down on my trip sheet and cheerily replied with an:

Alrighty

"Alrighty" was the first of only two words I said throughout the duration of this ride. We'll get to the other word in minute but for now I feel like expressing that I don't know why I said "alrighty". I never say "alrighty". I'm sure there are other cabbies out there that say "alrighty" much better than I do. In the future I think I'll leave the "alrightys" to them.*

It was only seconds after proclaiming their destination and our hero was already on first base. He quickly rounded second as we were waiting out the red light leaving the Wynn property. After the light changed I made the left and as we passed by the Fashion Show Mall I caught a glimpse of the brunettes very nice mammaries in the rear-view, for they were already out of her blouse. The BLVD was wicked busy so I made the left onto Twain and then a right on Koval. As we made the turn the brunette hiked up her dress and mounted on top of our hero cowgirl style. Seconds later it became obvious that these two people were fucking in my backseat.

I honestly wasn't sure what to think at first. I guess I knew it was only a matter of time before this day eventually came and surprisingly it wasn't nearly as uncomfortable of a situation as I thought it would be. One thing that was weird about it though was that they just got it on like I wasn't even there. They didn't even ask for permission or anything and I don't even let people smoke in the backseat without asking. But come to think of it, what would that conversation have looked like anyway? "Hey man, is it cool if I bang this chick in your backseat, I have a condom?" "Um yeah, go get um tiger." But either way I wasn't going to stop them. I think this falls under some player hating bylaw or something. So as we cruised south-bound on Koval, the brunette began to moan rather loudly and I was puzzled as to how I managed to successfully set my tent up while all my camping gear was at home collecting dust in the storage closet.

We had to stop at the red light crossing over Flamingo and I happened to pull up alongside another cab from the same company I drive for. I recognized the driver from chatting with him at the yard from time to time. He did a double take in the direction of my backseat and then gave me this bug eyed stare. You know that look that says, "hey dude, did you realize that you have two people fucking in your backseat?" I recognized his shocked appearance and acknowledged it with a smile and the universal upwards chin movement that says, "what's up?"

The light changed and we continued southbound. After catching the light green at Harmon, I realized that in only a matter of seconds we would be pulling into the MGM driveway. Thinking that it probably wouldn't be the greatest of ideas to pull up to the front door of the worlds 2nd largest hotel with two people fucking in the backseat, I decided it would be best for all parties involved to cruise around the block as many times as necessary. No sooner than I thought that our hero completed the deed.

I glanced up at my trip sheet that's rubber banded to the sun visor above my head and realized that this entire fiasco began a mere 5 minutes ago. Considering the time I couldn't help but think what an amature our hero is. I mean 4 minutes is all you've got man? C'mon bro. But then I thought, wait a minute, maybe he just realized that we were almost there and that he had better go ahead and finish before the ride ended. In which case that's actually kind of impressive if you think about it. So I went from thinking this guy was a schmuck to man this guy must be a pro in a matter of seconds. A fucking pro.

As we entered MGM's property we drove over the speed bumps running alongside the massive parking garage as the brunette sat back on the seat and began to put herself back together. While doing so she posed the question:

What's your name?

I was a little puzzled as to why she was asking me my name at a time like this but nonetheless I responded with undoubtedly, unequivocally, the dumbest fucking thing I have ever said in my entire life: my name.

Andrew

I knew immediately that it was the dumbest thing I have ever said because at the same exact moment my dumb ass replied, our hero did as well:

Tony

I thanked God for our simultaneous responses because due to that I don't think the brunette heard me. I guess I just figured she must've known his name already. How silly of me. Our couple continued their small talk until we arrived at the front door. Tony tipped me very handsomely and after they departed the cab it appeared that they walked off in different directions.

I completed my trip sheet log by noting the drop off time and then drove around the circle to the back of the staging line at MGM in a meager attempt at going back to work like nothing had ever happened. With any luck, my next fare will be normal and my camping equipment can begin collecting dust again.

*RIP Mitch Hedberg

XXXVI

Below you will discover seven shorts. Mini-adventures if you will. Some of these I have been holding onto for some time now and for whatever reason I haven't been able to extract a real story out of them. I have more of these that I'm working on so look for another collection of shorts at a later time as well. For now I guess in my opinion, there wasn't enough content within these stories for them to simply stand alone. But together, hopefully they deem me taking the time to write them, and you taking the time to read them.
--------------------

It was after 2am. The PURE nightclub at Caesars was beginning to slow down and as usual, the cab line was huge. I loaded a single gentlemen and he gave a destination of the Mirage.

Short rides don't bother me too much for the most part, especially when it's busy. But this ride is ridiculous because the Mirage is literally right next door. With a decent sling-shot and a rock I think you could hit the Mirage hotel tower from the cab stand at Caesars if you had to. Thankfully, traffic on the BLVD was lite so I knew I would be dropping off and picking up again in no time. Nonetheless, I think the guy sensed that I was a little perturbed considering I didn't say one word to him upon hearing his destination.

After making a left to head northbound on the BLVD we quickly approached the only stoplight in between the two places. It's actually less of a stoplight and more just a signal for the crosswalk there. We got to about 50 ft short of the intersection and I noticed an ambulance with its lights on and sirens screaming heading the opposite direction. Dismissing my green light, I immediately pulled over to the right lane and came to a complete stop just prior to reaching the intersection line. Besides the fact that such a practice is the law, you need to do this on the off chance that the ambulance needs to do a U-turn or needs the intersection for some other reason. In keeping with the norm in Las Vegas, most cars ignored the sights and sounds and continued on through the welcoming green light, those of them now stuck behind me honking and wondering why the fuck I stopped. Sure enough the ambulance continued on SB and thus, I ultimately stopped for no reason. We preceded on and at the next light we made the left onto Mirage's property. After coming to a stop at the front door, the meter showed $5.20. My passenger hands me a $100 bill and said as he opened the door and let himself out:

That was a good move back there, you keep it.

...and he slammed the door shut and started walking away. I rolled my window down to say:

What are you a firemen?.....paramedic or something?

Thinking he had to be and he's tired of stupid fuckers not yielding to him when they should. He turned around and began walking back towards my open window. He pointed his finger at me in his very best "I want you for the U.S. Army" way, and said in a drunken slur:

Good move.

Fair enough, I'll stop asking questions now.
--------------------

I was on the nut at the Bellagio, it was slow so I had it parked right in front of the loading area, giving me a view of everyone walking in and out of the casino. This is useful for two reasons. One, because people watching in Vegas is a good way to pass the time and two, it gives you chance to survey your potential passenger(s) before you load them. I wasn't there for long when I spotted a guy exiting the hotel via the revolving door. It only took a second of looking at him to realize that he was incredibly mad about something. His body language said all you needed to know. I would like to say I locked my doors at this point, but against my better judgment I didn't. I would like to tell you that because I probably should have, but I can't. In all honesty, the thought never even occurred to me.

He made a bee-line straight towards me and from that it was obvious that he was in need of a cab. Before I could contemplate any further he had the shotgun door open and he sat down right next to me. Although it's not entirely uncommon that a person flying solo sit up front with you, it's definitely not the norm. As soon as he sat down I immediately sensed the negative energy. Before he could even tell me where he's going he yelled "FUCK!" as he punches the dashboard above the glove box as hard as he can. The whole car shakes and I say:

You can stop that shit right the fuck now dude, otherwise we're done here.

Sorry, sorry.....can you take me to Desert Inn and Durango?

He said as he was rubbing his hand.

I know that area well. I live right by there. I liked the idea of clearing up there that way I could swing by the crib afterwards. But, this anger and frustration should tell you something. If it doesn't you probably wouldn't make a good cab driver. Obviously, dude is mad about something and it's one of two things in all probability. Girl problems, or in all likelihood, it's a money thing. Dude just lost his ass in the casino and decided the remedy for such a problem was to start working his overhand right on my dashboard like it was a heavy-bag. So before I even turn the meter on or put the cab in gear, I ask the only question I gave a shit to know the answer to:

Do you have any money? .....Because you're going to have to show me some before I take you that far, or anywhere for that matter.

Are you serious?

Do I look like I'm joking?

I knew right away from his answer that I was on the right track. No way this guy had any money. Certainly not enough to take him all the way to the west end of town. Finally, after he realized I wasn't kidding, he shrugged and dove his right hand into his right pant pocket.

Then, he seemingly played pocket pool for the next minute. It was weird, and I found myself laughing. It looked like he was trying to remove his hand from the pocket with his hand stretched out, fingers as far apart as they could go. Obviously, it's difficult way to remove your hand from a pocket if you've ever tried. It reminded me of when OJ couldn't get that glove on. He tries yanking his hand out with a sudden jerk on a few occasions to no avail. His hand is stuck in his pocket. Certain the guy is fucking with me, I proclaim:

Look, maybe you should get another cab if you don't have any money

What, this... won't cover it?

He replied as I noticed that he's finally achieved successful removal of his hand from the pocket and in its grasp is the largest stack of one hundred dollar bills I'd seen in a while. Easily thousands of dollars, maybe tens of thousands. It was more than one should be able to successfully fit into a single pant pocket really. I wondered how somebody with that type of dough in their pocket could be so mad. I've had half of that kind of money in my pocket before and I had a fuckin boner at the time. I thought about inquiring to that effect but all that stumbled out of my mouth was:

Yep, that should cover it.

--------------------

I was in the downtown neighborhood and I heard a distressed female voice over the two way. In the background you could here a strange banging noise:

THIS IS CAB 5959 I NEED METRO RIGHT AWAY AT MAIN STREET SOUTH OF CHARLESTON! ...DISPATCH THERE IS A MAN JUMPING ON MY HOOD AND WINDSHIELD!

For some reason, dispatch did not respond right away. There was a brief pause and you heard her voice again:

I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO...THIS GUY IS JUMPING ON MY HOOD, HE'S CRAZY OR SOMETHING, HELP ME!.

Still nothing from dispatch, but then there was a male voice come over the air, sounding as calm as if he were in the middle of Sunday School:

Uhhh, drive away.?

I nearly sprayed the remains of my half gulped Dr. Pepper onto the windshield. Then in a hurry dispatch finally makes their first appearance.

No no no driver, don't do that. Put the cab in park, lock your doors and roll the windows up. Metro is in route.

At that very moment two squad cars go screaming by me lights and sirens blaring and it occurred to me that I was only two blocks from her location. Apparently Metro was already well on their way to handling the situation, but I just had to go have a look see. So I followed the cop cars and as I turned the corner onto Main I could see it clear as day.

Some drunk asshole with a 40 ouncer wrapped in a brown paper bag clutched in one hand, dancing a jig on top of this chicks cab. The driver had every reason to be as nervous as she was I suppose, but it was one of the funnier things I'd witnessed in a while.
--------------------

It was Mama Mia! show break at Mandalay Bay and I loaded two seventies something ladies. They gave me a destination of The Orleans. This verbatim conversation began with me posing the question:

So how was the show?

The lady sitting on the right replied:

Oh it was wonderful, we really enjoy musicals and that one was very good.

As you should, considering the ticket prices these days. I'm glad you had a good time though....so where are you from?

We're from Louisville.

Ah, Kentucky ey? Derby's coming up pretty soon isn't it?

That's right, next week.

Now the Derby is the three year old event right?

That's right.

See...I know a little about the ponies. You guys ever go?

We haven't missed it in 30 years or so.

Really!? That's cool, you looking forward to this year?

Oh yeah, we always have a great time, even in the infield, which is where we usually watch it from.

There was a short pause in the conversation as we sat at a red light near the Orleans. I guess I was racking my brain for the next progression in the conversation. Then it occurred to me, like a beam of light from above:

So, is Seabiscuit like, your all time favorite movie?

We don't like movies really, never watch them.

So you've never seen Seabiscuit?

Nope.

Well I guess you'll just have to come back here and catch Seabiscuit the musical then.

Oh my goodness there is a Seabiscuit musical playing here?

No.

--------------------

I took a radio call at the "Gun Store" on East Tropicana. I had just dropped off across the street at the Wally World and caught a lucky break when the call came up right after I cleared. Considering my proximity, I was all over it. The Gun Store is actually pretty cool because you can rent and fire fully automatic assault rifles there. Ever shoot an AK? It's pretty fun. Anyway, I loaded a middle aged white guy, dressed in a trucker hat that was mangled to the point that I couldn't make out what it was advertising, a short red flannel over a sleeved long john shirt and he completed the ensemble with blue jeans and a pair of work boots. He wasn't going very far so he wasted no time in informing me of his new toy:

Just bought a real nice piece in there...

I thought to myself, awesome, but said nothing. A normal person might buy a car, but he wanted a new six shooter. There was a brief pause, and then he dropped the figurative bomb:

Do you wanna see it?

No thanks. I'm trying to quit.

Oh a funny guy huh? ...No for real, lemme show you this thing, it's pretty bad ass.

He said as he opens the box and holds the fucking gun up so I can see it in the rear-view.

Yeah, that's a nice one.

I don't know the first thing about guns but I didn't think it would be to wise to insult the guys new gun. I mean it could have been the crappiest gun ever forged from molten steel and I would have complimented him on it. Obviously this guy is dumber than a box of rocks, not realizing the consequences of pulling a gun on a cab driver. But, I had a good feeling about the guy. I think ignorance was prevailing over mischievous here. I think he was just happy that he had a down home English speaking cabbie from Iowa that he thought would, and could appreciate his new piece. It reminded me of a kid on Christmas that just had to show off his new dirt bike to anybody and everybody. But it made me wonder if perhaps he had bumped into a police officer first before me, would he would have shown it to him as well?

Hey excuse me Officer,....Wanna see my new gun? It's pretty bad-ass!

--------------------

A driver came over the air of the two-way in an obvious Arab slang. He had a run-out and was seeking assistance. Dispatch is always there to help you, however they generally have a fairly short fuse towards drivers who not only are difficult to understand, but fail to follow radio simple communication procedures as well. Our Arab friend was one of those.

__78 HAD RUN OUT! NEED TA HELP!

Driver, calm down. What is your cab number?

__78! SEND TA RIGHT NOW! THIS BASTARD TOOK OFF!

Driver watch your language these are public airwaves you can't talk like that. Now, calm down and I need you to tell me your cab number before I can help you.

___8!

Driver, you're cutting yourself off. Hold the mic button down, wait for a second, then begin talking. You have to press the button before you begin talking, otherwise we can't hear you.

Dispatch are you no going to help me?

Driver I'm trying to help you! What is your location?

Smartly, dispatch temporarily gave up trying to obtain the cab number. The driver replied:

___SELL and 215.

Ok, is that Russell & 215?

_es.

Ok, that's a copy, but I need the exact address driver. I can't just send the police to Russell and 215. I need an exact address. Where exactly are you?

__sell & 215. I told you. Are you not going to help me or not?

DRIVER! I'm trying to help you!

_________ going to help me I'm just going to park the cab right here and quit. I'll take bus home.

Driver don't do that. I'm trying to help you but you're cutting yourself off, and I can't send you any help until you give me your cab number and a exact address. Can you give me your cab number and a exact address for me to send metro to?

There was a 5 second pause, and the driver replied:

____atch isn't helping me, I'm going to go find this guy and fucking kill him. I'm going to kill this fucking guy!

Admittedly I started laughing. It was funny considering the guys accent combined with his poor English, nevertheless dispatch was quick to respond:

Now driver, we don't kill people here at Las Vegas Cab. At least not on purpose we don't.

--------------------

We had just exited the southbound I-15 headed east towards the BLVD on Flamingo. I was loaded with three younger white guys, about my age I suppose. One of them sat shotgun, the other two in the back. They were drinking fairly heavily and were already well on their way to being wasted. We were forced to stop at a red light on the freeway overpass and we came to rest in the middle lane, the first car on the stripe. A pimped out Honda Civic pulled up adjacent to us on our right hand side. It looked like the guy had dropped a lot of money into his car. Either that or he bought it off of the makers of the Fast and Furious. The Honda was packed full with 4 guys in it, they had their windows down and the driver was saying some nonsensical shit to us that I couldn't even hear. He stared at us while redlining his motor and it looked like tough guy wanted to compensate for something by beating my completely stock commercial vehicle, in a street drag.

My guys were having none of this and were egging me on to give it a go. In fact one of them even said:

C'mon, this things got a V8 in it doesn't it?

Yes, I'm sure that's what we'll be able to attribute our certain victory to.

I said sarcastically.

As dumb as it was, I thought it was kind of funny that this guy was acting tough and my passengers were giving me shit about it. So setting my better judgment aside, I decided to play along.

I replaced my right foot with my left on the brake pedal and proceeded to lightly work the gas with my right one, torquing the car down. The cab wants to move forward but of course it can't. But more importantly, I know this to be the international signal that you want to race. Studying the light signal patterns as I do, I was certain I was going to beat him off the line because I knew exactly when the light was going to change. If nothing else I knew I could beat him off the line, whatever was to happen after that, who knew?

I continued eying the green light for the traffic exiting the freeway from the northbound direction. Pulling my stare away for just a split second, I noticed in the rear view mirror the Metro Patrol Car two cars behind me. I could just see the top of the light bar resting above the cars behind me. Good timing. I turned my head back in time to noticed the opposite light change to yellow and I knew the green was ours in four seconds. I revved it up and the cab is inching forward, at the same time I began repeatedly elbowing the guy sitting shotgun while saying:

Watch this! Watch this! Watch watch watch!!!

As soon as the light was ours I flipped my left foot off the brake and floored it....

For about 5 feet. The Honda fucking roasted his tires and got half sideways as he blew our doors off. Immediately after that the squad car lights um up and cruises past us to go catch the Honda.

As we slowly caught up and passed the pulled over Honda my passengers are dying and hanging half out of the windows giving those guys the finger and yelling:

Ahhh stupid fuckers!

..among other things. Good thing I seen that cop though.
--------------------

XXXV

I was patiently waiting out a red light on my way downtown from the Circus Circus. My lone passenger was a white male, about my age. He wore a white tank top, merely to show off his "sleeve" tattoos. I say that because I'm certain he had more fashion sense then that. I'm a cab driver and even I have more fucking fashion sense than that. Feeding egos is something I strive to never do but nevertheless, I actually complimented him on the work because he really did have some bad ass art on his arms. Other than that, I couldn't tell you what we discussed.

At the exact moment our light changed to green, a Police car that I didn't even realize was directly behind us, activated his light bar and hit the siren twice quickly. Instantly I racked my brain, sifting through all the bad deeds I've ever done and tried to determine which of those might be the reason my rights were about to be revoked. I was fairly certain I had obeyed all traffic laws but who the fuck knows? These guys can be pretty inventive sometimes. I pulled through the intersection and made the first left onto a small side street. I wanted to get off of the major thoroughfare as a means of making it safer for the officer as well as ourselves. While I did so, my passenger inquired:

Why are we getting pulled over?

I have no idea.

I rolled my window down and turned on the dome light. I removed my ID from the wallet in my bag and begin shuffling through the glove box for the registration and insurance information. Only seconds had passed from the time we had come to a complete stop before I noticed the officer was already walking up to the cab. In most cases it seems the cop will sit in his car briefly for whatever reason before addressing you, but this guy was having none of that. I hadn't even located the insurance card and he was already at the window shinning his flashlight in my face:

Would you mind telling me why you're honking your horn like an idiot?

That was a new one.

I'm sorry?

I got a complaint that you were excessively honking your horn and now I wanna know why you are doing that. Now would you mind telling me?

I'm sorry sir, I wasn't honking my horn. I never honk my horn, or very rarely anyway. Never excessively.

At this point, my passenger decides that it's time to get my back:

He wasn't honking his horn at all. Not once since I've been in his cab. This is ridiculous.

The officer did not acknowledge my passenger whatsoever. Maintaining his focus on me he said:

Driver I need to see your license, registration, insurance card and your trip sheet please.

As soon as he said "trip sheet" I concluded that this was just a random stop. Considering that and my certainty that I had obeyed traffic laws, I was no longer too worried about being pulled over. But before I could even acknowledge the officer, my passenger decided to take the torch from my hand and run with it in a angry tone:

Why are we pulled over sir!?

The cop moved the flashlight to my passengers face and replied:

That's none of your business.

Officer, this driver didn't do anything wrong and I want to know why you pulled him over. You're not going to tell us why? You're supposed to tell us why!

I surrendered the documents to the officer then draped my right arm around the shotgun headrest and spun my head around to look into the eyes of my passenger. I didn't say a word, but it was a look that said, "shut the fuck up man." I was a little flattered and glad that my passenger was trying to have my back here but this is a textbook example of a guy trying to make things better who ends up making them much worse. I completed my quick stare as the officer detained my documents and proclaimed:

Stay here I'll be back.

The officer began walking back to his squad car and my passenger wastes no time in going off:

Why the fuck are we pulled over man? This honking thing is bullshit. You're a good driver, you weren't doing anything wrong, you weren't speeding, I even seen you using your blinkers and shit.

Relax man. We're all good. I think he's just making sure my papers are in order.

And that's when he started yelling...:

THAT'S BULLSHIT MAN! YOU KNOW YOU WEREN'T HONKING! HE'S GOT TO HAVE A REASON TO PULL US OVER! THEY CAN'T JUST GO AROUND PULLING OVER WHOEVER HE WANTS! HE HAS TO HAVE REASON...WHAT THE FUCK?!

Then he starting repeatedly shoving the back of the shotgun seat with so much force that I thought the seat might come up from the floorboard. The cab was gyrating and in the process he knocked the headrest off of the top of the seat and it landed next to me. I don't know why he became so passionate about it but for whatever reason, dude started wigging out. I finally had to raise my voice:

What are you doing man? Chill the fuck out would ya?!!! You're going to fuck up my cab and anyway, you're not helping! Just sit there, shut up and we'll be outta here in no time. Police don't answer to us, we answer to them. Remember?

You're right man, you're right. I'm sorry.

He said sweating and out of breath.

We sat there for a few minutes, the silence only interrupted by the random chatting on the two-way. I knew it was only a matter of time before a road supervisor spotted me and demand to know over the air what I had done to get pulled over. Finally the officers shadow approached my cab again and as soon as he got to within an earshot of us, my passenger wastes no time in going straight DEFCON 2. Talking to no one in particular this time around and paying no mind to the fact that he just apologized to me for being an idiot, he goes off on another tangent:

MOTHERFUCKING PIGS THINK THEY CAN DO WHATEVER THE FUCK THEY WANT. COMMUNISTS MOTHERFUCKERS PULLING US OVER FOR NO FUCKING REASON!!!FUCKING PIGS MOTHER FUCKING PIGS. PIG ON A POWER TRIP! BASTARDS PULLING US OVER FOR NO FUCKING REASON!

...and he shoved the seat again a few more times for good measure. I was completely baffled and trying not to laugh at the same time. I mean, the guy actually said "communists". The officer was standing at my window and I looked at him, there wasn't even a reason to shrug my shoulders, he knew where my mind was at. The officer looked more surprised than happy, and even though I got the impression that he was just about to let us be on our way, he shined the light towards the backseat again.

Ok sir, now I want to see your ID, and you need to settle down before we have a problem. Do we have a problem?... I received a complaint about this driver, I have every right to stop him. Do you understand?

My passenger pulls out his wallet but not before he adds a few more choice words regarding his philosophies on law enforcement. I rolled down the rear window on my side and my passenger reluctantly passes his ID through it to the officer. The officer began walking back and I turned around to address my idiot again.

What the fuck are you doing man? I thought you were chilling?

I'm fucking pissed off man. He's not supposed to do that shit. And you'll notice, he still hasn't told us why he pulled you over. That honking bit is a bunch of bullshit, you know it too.

I know dude, he's just running my ID and shit. It doesn't matter, he can do whatever he wants. We could have been well on our way already probably. I appreciate what you're tying to do but just shut up man. "Yes sir" and "no sir" is all you need to be saying. It's easy.

Fuck that man, I ain't layin down for no cop.

I'm trying to help you man.

I'm trying to help you!

Well you're not. ....You know what? Do whatever you want.

Again, we sat there with only the two-way to keep us company, this time the minutes numbered in the tens. When the officer finally made his way back to my window he a matter-of-factly stated:

I need you to step out of the car for me sir.

My heart sank. I've heard those words before and they generally end badly for Senor Funk. I hit the door locks, undid my seatbelt and reluctantly grabbed the door handle and pulled it towards me while I threw my elbow into the door.

The door had only opened slightly ajar before the officer threw it back closed with one move of his hips.

No not you driver. Him.

He motions towards my passenger to slide over and exit on my side of the cab. My passenger continues the verbal barrage as he positions his feet towards the door and slides his ass across the backseat. As soon as he was standing outside the cab the officer instructed him to "turn around and face the cab", at which point he asked him if he had "any drugs or weapons." He cuffed the guy, patted him down and afterwards he posed the question:

You realized that you have 3 outstanding warrants in California?

...then he went on to preaching a little, but he was surprisingly still very cool about the situation:

Why did you have to go and draw attention to yourself like that? I was just checking the cabbie out, no big deal. I wasn't even interested in you, but you have to go and be the smart-ass and now I have to take you to jail.

The officer clutched my cuffed passenger behind the arm and escorted him into the backseat of the squad car. I waited for the officer to return to my cab because for one, he hadn't told me I was free to go yet and for two, he still had all of my documents and ID. The officer took his time in walking my documents back over to me then informed me that I could leave. But not before he debriefed me first:

Was that guy acting like an idiot the entire time he was in your cab?

No sir. He was perfectly fine, right up until you pulled us over. I was pretty sure I didn't do anything wrong so I wasn't to worried about it. I just figured you were checking me out, no big deal. But as soon as you pulled us over his whole demeanor changed. You seen the most of it. While you were away I was trying to calm him down, but he was having nothing of that. Why you would act like that knowing you have outstandings is beyond me. To tell you truth, had you let us go, I contemplated ending his ride right here. I don't need somebody that unstable in my backseat.

That probably would have been a good idea considering what his warrants are for. Well he's telling me that he had those taken care of a long time ago, which is what they all say.

I can imagine.

Sorry for the hold up, get back to work driver.

No problem sir, thank you.

I returned my documents to their rightful homes and affixed the headrest on top of the seat again. I put my belt back on, the cab in drive and was about to take my foot off of the brake and rid myself of this fiasco forever. At that moment I glanced up and realized that my meter was still on and read $7.80. I thought about it for a few seconds, but knew immediately what I had to do.

I put the cab back in park, undid my seatbelt, stepped out of the cab and began walking back towards the squad car. I briefly put my hands up about shoulder height to show the officer my hands. By the time I got there he already had his window down:

I'm sorry to bother you officer, but before you take this guy to county, do you think I could get my eight bucks?

XXXIV

I loaded a family at Mandalay Bay. It didn't take but the word "MGM" to come out of their mouths for me to realize that they had to be from New Jersey. Serving people from all over the globe for 3 years now, I've gotten pretty good at determining were people are from. If it's not a style, its a mannerism. If it's not a phrase, it'll be an accent that gives them away.

Normally I find people from New Jersey to be incredibly annoying. Some folks love these people. Unfortunately, I generally find my personality type in conflict with theirs. I don't know what it is, we just don't mesh. In my experience, most of them are high energy, opinionated, loud mouth know-it-alls and I've found that when a group are together it's near impossible to get a single word in. I on the other hand am more of a reserved, looking to learn something, pick my spot type of conversationalists. Nonetheless, there is an upside: Many folks from Jersey are incredibly funny, whether they mean to be or not.

My often mislead stereotypical conceptions aside, this Father, Mother and I were having a great time together throughout the short ride to the MGM. Their early teens Daughter seemed to be hating life however, obviously stuck with nowhere else to go and no one else to hang with. It was apparent Dad & Mom had already housed a few cocktails this evening and I remember them making me laugh on a few occasions throughout the ride. I'm usually good for a one liner or two as well. Overall a fun, but cookie cuter-ish kind of ride. I don't recall the unimportant specifics of the conversation.

We arrived at the MGM and the Father, who was sitting shotgun, stepped out of the cab as a means of easily accessing his wallet. Not uncommon at all. As he did so, the Mother and Daughter climbed out of the backseat and began walking towards the front entrance. Dad peeked his head through the window I had just rolled down and asked me how much it was:

$6.95

I responded.

The Middle aged gentleman thumbed through his wallet, grabbed a ten dollar bill and three singles. He handed them to me and said:

That was the best cab ride we've ever had, here you go buddy thank you.

Thank you sir, you guys have a good night.

I let my foot off the brake and hit the window up button simultaneously. I hadn't crawled 3 feet forward before he began knocking on the cab trying to get me to stop. I figured he might have forgotten something in the cab. I hit the brake and rolled the window back down. He walked up to the window again, bent over and said:

You know, I like your style brother here you go.

...and he handed me another one dollar bill. Surprised that was why he stopped me, I took the bill from him and said:

Thank you sir, I appreciate that very much.

I didn't get halfway through that short sentence before had his hand in his wallet again, grabbing another single and stretching it towards me.

Thank you sir, I appreciate that.

Once more he goes into his wallet, and grabs another one.

Thank you sir.

I said again as I took it.... At which point he grabbed another one and handed it to me.

Thank you sir.

...and another

Thank you sir.

...and another

Thank you sir.

...and another

Thank you sir.

...and another

Thank you sir, I appreciate that

I said trying not to laugh. I mean, it's awesome that he wants to give me some more cash, but its hilarious how he is deliberately handing me one bill at a time, waits for me to take it, and then finds another one to repeat the process. He sees me biting my lip and says:

What's so funny?

Nothing.

I said as quickly and seriously as possible. I doubt I've ever gone from a smile to a frown quicker in my life. He stands still and stares at me for a 3 count, then reaches into his wallet, finds a one dollar bill and hands it to me.

Thank you sir.

...and another

Thank you sir.

...and another

Thank you sir.

I glanced over at the Mother and Daughter standing by the MGM's front door. Mom had her arm around her Daughter and they looked puzzled, wondering what it was we were talking about in all likelihood. I avert my eyes back to the Dad and he's digging through his wallet, looking for another single hopefully. He finds one and hands it to me.

Thank you sir.

...and another

Thank you sir.

Thank you brother, you have a good night.

...and with that he put his hand up and waved goodbye to me like he wanted a high five that he knew wasn't going to be returned. I pulled away and began counting the pile of ones sitting in my lap. 13 of them in all. Ironically equaling the initial amount that he gave me. This all brings me to the golden rule of cab driving, maybe life in general:

If someone wants to give you money, that's normally a good time to not ask any questions. That, and maybe New Jerseyans aren't so bad after all.