XXXI III

*ATTENTION* IF YOU HAVEN'T READ PARTS ONE AND TWO OF THIS STORY YET, DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER HERE. START HERE.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


I jumped over the cement barricade again and took off running back across the freeway towards the SUV. I could hear a helicopter approaching and it wasn't long before he was overhead. I looked up and a news-copter was circling about. Still no sign of the police. The driver of the SUV was off of the phone, standing besides her truck watching the whole thing unfold. As I neared she raised her voice and asked:

HE'S OK?

I was out of breath by the time I got there and responded quickly.

I think so. Did you see anybody get ejected from the car?

No.

Really? Are you sure? He's asking about his friend. This guy didn't have his belt on so I assumed somebody was ejected.

I didn't see anybody, it happened so fast though.

"Weird", I said to myself.

Ok. Just to be safe, call 911 again and tell them that there is another person that was ejected from the vehicle who hasn't been found yet. We might need more help. I'm going to start looking.

She pulled her phone from her pocket once more as I ran across the off ramp again. Once I made it to the barricade I started working my way against traffic through the debris field towards the origination of the skid marks. I wasn't long before I had briefly scanned the entire area and found no sign of anybody. It was then that it occurred to me for the first time that maybe there was no Jeremy. Maybe our survivor had been drinking or something and with a keen sense decided to come up with a story to make it appear as if he wasn't driving. It seemed impractical for this guy to be thinking on that level so soon after waking up and pulling himself from the wreck but who knows? Besides, my search revealed nothing and our lone eye witness didn't see anybody get ejected. I wasn't sure what to think. I didn't get very far in that train of thought before the first NHP cruiser barreled around the curve. Being downstream from the Honda I was the first person he came to, so he pulled up to me and rolled his window down. I decided to leave my speculations out of it.

Officer, looks like this guy is going to be ok, he crawled out of there under his own power. He still needs medical attention though. He's asking about his friend "Jeremy", but he was the only one in the car when I first got there. I haven't found anybody else yet. The driver of that SUV witnessed the accident and if there were any other vehicles involved they are no longer here.

Ok, you said there is another person somewhere?

Well I don't know. The guys first words to me after he crawled out of the car were "Where's Jeremy". He wasn't wearing his seatbelt so I assumed somebody was ejected. I ran back and asked the witness and she said she didn't see anybody get ejected but that she didn't get a good look either. So I'm down here searching...that was 30 seconds ago.

Ok sir, thank you for your help.

With that he drove the 40 yards or so up to the Honda funeral site. For the next few minutes I continued looking for Jeremy as fire and rescue arrived along with a host of other squad cars, all of which ignoring me on their way to the scene. If Jeremy was indeed out there he was in some dire need of help because he is nowhere near where this accident occurred. The longer I looked the more my speculations overtook my mind. But more importantly, nobody else seemed concerned in the least about this "search". I thought maybe there was something they knew that I didn't but how could that be? I finally gave up and began walking back to where all the action was.

The firemen are tending to the car and there are officers and even more onlookers milling around. Our survivor was sitting in the back of an ambulance being looked after. I stuck my head in and told him:

Hey man, I couldn't find your friend Jeremy, I looked everywhere.

I wondered if he would recognize my voice, he just looked at me with a blank stare and said:

Who?

Weird. Perhaps our guys injuries were more than just skin deep. Nonetheless, my job was done here and I was through trying to make sense of this.

I sifted through the police and fire personal looking for the original officer I spoke to, simply to make sure I was free to go. I finally spotted him and as I walked over I noticed that one of the looky Lous that was standing around before was talking to him. As I got closer I overheard the guy tell the officer that he was a "off-duty metro officer".... Ok jackass, what good does this information do anyone now? Better yet, what the fuck where you doing standing there with your thumb up your ass while I was trying to talk this guy into breathing for a little while longer? What the fuck were you doing while I was searching for other survivors? I didn't say any of that however and after I inquired, the NHP officer thanked me again and informed me that I was free to go.

I jumped over the barricade for the last time and began walking over to where my cab and the SUV were parked. I removed the larger remains of one sign from the road as I went. The lady was still standing by her truck.

I told the officer that you witnessed the accident so they may need to talk to you, I would check with them before you leave....You did a good thing.

You did a good thing

I suppose I did, I don't know. I'm not a hero though. It's important that I make that clear. I think we all know who the real heroes are. The heroes are those police officers who come running without question or judgment every time you call. The firemen like Nathan, who kick down the door of that burning building in search of you, without thinking once about it. The brave members of our armed forces who live and die everyday fighting for our country. The single mother who takes the bus everyday to work her two jobs so her child can have opportunities that she didn't. The father who teaches his son discipline, accountability, and respect for women. And the doctor who nurses the dead hearts back to life to name a few. No no, I'm no hero, just a well to do cabbie living in a constant battle between the shrimp cocktail and the caviar, the money or the morals and good-vs-evil.

I walked back to the cab and waved goodbye to the lady as I opened the door. Before I even got in I could hear my radio blaring with dispatch trying to find me:

FOUR AND A QUARTER?........425?....last chance: FOUR TWENTY-FIVE your ears on Andrew?

My microphone wasn't on the hook. It was dark in the cab so I had to follow the cord from the radio itself to find it and soon discovered it was laying on the passenger side floor mat. I picked it up and pressed the button.

425 I'm here, sorry about that I had to step out of the cab for a minute. You can give me that location now.....

Back to work.


.

XXXI II

*ATTENTION* IF YOU HAVEN'T READ PART ONE OF THIS STORY YET, DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER HERE. START HERE
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Sometime during my visualization process I had a conversation with an old friend of mine back home. Nathan had been serving as a local fireman for a few years, making him the perfect person to annoy for an education. I knew it was only a matter of time before the knowledge would become useful. I picked his brain about all kinds of things, but mainly about what to do if I ever found myself inside one of the scenarios I was envisioning. I needed to know the save-everybody and live to tell about it information.

The general rule was simple enough. Don't hurt yourself, and don't hurt the patient. Clearly, if you hurt yourself you're no longer any use to the real person who needs help. That puts both of you at greater risk because now of course, there are two people that need saving. The next and obvious step is to contact the authorities and give them as many details regarding the situation as possible. Any and everything you know for sure you should tell them. Upon doing that one should try to establish contact with the injured, determining consciousness being the first order of business. More specifically, Nathan informed me that if you don't have proper training you really shouldn't be attempting to remove a critically injured person from a mangled car. Unless of course there is a immediate threat, namely fire. Do otherwise and you'll most likely do more harm than good. ...A fact that became troublesome after I noticed through the shattered drivers window, the bloody arm hanging down on the headliner.

I hopped over the cement barricade that the trunk-lid was resting on and bent over next to the passenger side. I needed to get a better look, but that side was caved in worse than the other and I couldn't see in at all. I ran over to the driver side and knelt down to look through the drivers window again. There was only one man in the car and he looked more like a human pretzel than a person. I couldn't see his face, his body was halfway in the backseat smashed in between the two front bucket seats. I could also see a foot whose shoe was missing, the toes pointed down in a location that was close to where the steering wheel should have been. He wasn't moving. I laid down on my stomach alongside the window opening and yelled inside.

ARE YOU OK?

YOU ALRIGHT MAN?

CAN YOU TALK TO ME? WHAT'S YOUR NAME?

WHAT'S YOUR NAME? I NEED YOU TO TALK TO ME!

JUST HOLD ON MAN HELP IS ON THE WAY. YOU’RE ALRIGHT. WE'RE GONNA GET YOU OUT OF THERE.

Simultaneously, the arm moved and the guy let out the worst sounding gurgling moan I have ever heard. Great to know he was alive and conscious, however he appeared to be in very bad shape.

JUST RELAX MAN. DON'T MOVE! RELAX. JUST TAKE IT EASY. HELP IS GONNA BE HERE IN TWO MINUTES. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS BREATH MAN. JUST BREATH.

Louder and continuous moans now and the foot started twitching along with the arm.

TAKE IT EASY BRO. JUST RELAX MAN. YOU DON'T NEED TO MOVE. YOU'RE ALRIGHT. JUST BREATH THAT’S ALL YOU HAVE TO DO.

....SAY SOMETHING MAN...CAN YOU SAY SOMETHING?

There were other civilians around now, none of them doing anything. Trying to yank him out of there still seemed like a bad idea however. Despite the smell of gas the threat of a fire didn’t even seem possible. That's Hollywood bullshit. Thanks to Nathan, I did know exactly what needed to be done in this situation and that's exactly what I was doing. Nonetheless, the more I tried talking to him, the more he would move and substantially upset himself in the process making me feel even more helpless.

WHAT'S YOUR NAME? CAN YOU TELL ME YOUR NAME? TALK TO ME MAN!

WE'RE GOING TO GET YOU OUT OF THERE IN ONE MINUTE BROTHER. JUST KEEP BREATHING FOR ME.

The moaning subsided and the body started moving considerably. It looked like he wanted to get out of there. Amazingly, he was able to unfold himself and turn over as I’d given up trying to convince him to hold still. Wow. His hands and knees are now resting on the headliner and he starts to crawl out of the car. I couldn't believe my eyes. I’m blocking the window opening and his only way out so I stand up and take two steps back. In a matter of 20 seconds he pulls himself through the broken drivers door window, picks himself off of the ground and stands up right in front of me.

One Nike remained. His grey sweatpants and white t-shirt were torn in random places with blood all over them. His arms were covered too and his face looked like it went through a meat grinder. It was completely covered in blood along with glass and other debris that were seemingly seared to it. The white of his eyes were the stark contrast against the remainder of his face as he looked right at me and said:

Where’s Jeremy?

...to be continued

PART III HERE

XXXI I

Before my first day ever driving a cab I remember having the thought that I would see a lot of accidents during my time on the road. A lot of fender benders for sure and no doubt some bad ones as well. Indeed I have seen my share of bumper taps, however I’ve yet to witness a very bad accident. I have always wondered how I might react in that situation though. Maybe everybody does. I know in my mind I’ve tried to visualize what would need to be done the same way a shortstop might visualize making that crucial diving grab and throw to first. You’d like to think that you would be able to do the right thing. You’d like to think that you’d know exactly what to do and when, and then you would just do it. Just like that shortstop. Or maybe, you might have it in you to do something important if you had to. Maybe, you could even be the hero. We’d all like to think so. But the truth of the matter is you don’t know. And you won’t. Until the situation presents itself.

I was NB on I-95 en route to a radio call I had taken. It was about 2 in the morning and there was no traffic so I was fast approaching my exit. I already had the mic in my hand so I could call for my location as soon as I got to the stoplight. When I started the bend at the Rainbow curve was when the smoke was first noticeable and it got thicker and darker the farther I went. I had my foot off the gas now and hadn't progressed very far around the turn before it became clear.

It was a blue Honda, or what was left of a blue Honda anyway. Laying upside down, smoke and steam rose from the undercarriage while the rear tires continued to spin. The trunk lid was resting on top of the concrete barrier that separates the Summerlin Parkway off ramp from the freeway, leaving the car at a very awkward pitch. This car was tore up pretty bad, looking like it had rolled over many times. I had to maneuver the cab around various car parts and the remains of two completely destroyed road signs that scattered along the road leading up to it. There was another car there. Three lanes over to the right, on the shoulder of the off ramp a white SUV had it's four ways on. It appeared to be the Good Samaritan. I turned my four ways on, pulled up alongside and rolled my window down to address the female driver.

Were you involved?

No I just watched it happen.

Did you call 911 already?

She held up the phone in her hand as she was putting her earpiece in with her other hand.

Right now.

I pulled the cab over in front of the SUV, got out and ran towards her window.

Do you know where we are?

She didn't respond.

Tell them we're on I-95 Northbound, directly at the Summerlin Parkway off ramp. We need NHP and Fire & Rescue here immediately.

I figured I would give her the exact location. You'd be surprised how many people are incapable of doing this accurately.

Is there anybody alive in there?

I asked a question I knew she didn't know the answer to. I don't know why. She was just as scared as I was and even if she wasn't, she wouldn't have had a chance to find that out anyway. She just stared back at me.


As soon as she started talking to the dispatcher I took off running across the lanes of the Summerlin Parkway off-ramp. I didn't get far before the debris began impeding my progress and the smell of gasoline became apparent.


...to be continued

Part II HERE

XXX

I loaded a single at MGM. A clean cut white guy, mid 30's, dressed up in a very nice looking however oddly green colored suit. His bottom jacket button was undone, he had the matching belt and shoes and a watch that is probably worth more than your car to complete the ensemble. You didn't have to know anything about suits to know that this was a expensive suit. I can say that because I don't know anything about suits. He got in the backseat and gave me the destination:

Las Vegas Lounge please.

Perhaps some of you are familiar with this establishment and those of you might be laughing already. For those that are not, allow me to explain....

Located in Commercial Center, the LVL is the standard in Las Vegas as far as the transvestite, trans-sexual, trans-gendered, trans-fat, trans-??? hangouts are concerned. In the past when I have dropped off or picked up there I have struggled to find the appropriate pronoun to use in addressing my passenger(s). I've since figured that you should address these types of people according to how they are trying to be perceived. In other words, a dude who is trying to dress up and look like a girl, is "girlfriend" or "honey". On the other hand, a chick who's trying to go Adams apple is "sir" or my personal favorite, "bro". Either way, to call the crowd that regulars at this place interesting or diverse wouldn't do them justice.

So needless to say I have never dropped or picked a passenger at this establishment that fits Mr. Suits mold. Obviously. "Fish out of water" wouldn't even begin to describe Mr. Suit perusing this bar. So shortly after we departed the MGM the thought crossed my mind that perhaps this guy is mistaken. Perhaps I should give him the low-down on the joint because there is no way Mr. Suit is into this scene. Right? But then again, he asked for this place by name! He knows what's up....he has to.

Along the way I'm going back and forth in my mind as to whether I should give this guy a heads up or not. Obviously if that is the sort of thing he is looking for, you risk offending and embarrassing the guy by bringing it up like that. On the other hand if you say nothing, you risk inserting a perfectly straight guy into pretty much the worst place imaginable for him.

It's worth noting that ultimately, I care not what your deal is. I'm a firm believer in the "live and let live" philosophy and just as long as your program isn't fucking up mine, I seriously don't care what it is that you are or are not into. I'm not going to judge you either. Whatever your thing is...if it makes you happy, then right the fuck on.

Shortly before clearing I finally made my decision.

This is a grown man, he knows perfectly well where he's going. On the off chance that he doesn't I'm sure he can survive the situation. So I decided to say nothing, however I did hand him my card as he stepped out of the cab.

Hey if you need a ride back you can give me a call if you want.

Ok, thanks

My phone rang 3 minutes later.

Hey this is the guy you just dropped off at the Las Vegas Lounge, are you still in the neighborhood?

Yeah, what's up?

Can you come back and get me?

No problem, I'm just around the block I'll be there in a minute.

I was there again in no time, he got back in and asked to return to the MGM. I couldn't help myself anymore.

Not what you where looking for?

You knew about that place?

I know about every place.

Well why didn't you say anything? Do I look like the kinda guy who is into that?

No Sir, you don't. But, that's none of my business my friend. Besides, that's why I gave you my number. Do you think I give every straight looking dude that's into male lesbians my card?

I'm going to kill that fucking guy.

Who

A friend of mine back home....We were having a conversation about the best place to find hookers in Vegas a while back and he told me about that place. We play pranks and do stuff like this to each other all the time.

Fitting that a man wearing a suit that color has a friend like that.

XXIX

NBA All*Star Weekend, Las Vegas 2007: Taking the term "ShootAround" to a whole new level.

In hindsight I wonder how many weapons I unknowingly had in the cab over the weekend, I think an o/u of 6.5 would be reasonable. Thankfully, nobody ever showed me theirs. To call the weekend out of control would be a gross understatement. Conservative estimates had the number of visitors in the 250-300,000 range. Presidents Day, Chinese New Year, Valentines day and the biggest NBA All*Star Game ever collided to produce a Mike Tyson crowd times ten, complete with traffic conditions that could only be described as impossible. The only thing like NYE I've seen that wasn't NYE. Every street intersecting the strip was backed up a mile on either side and forget about the strip and hotel entrances all together. Rides that normally take 5 minutes could take 35 minutes. Then fools get in your cab and complain that there aren't enough cabs because they've been waiting forever. ...Yes, because the answer to traffic congestion is always more cars. On top of that cluster-fuck I have never seen so many people completely out of control in my entire life.

There is this restaurant just off the strip by Hooters called Coco's. It's a smaller 24/7 franchise like Denny's. It's owned and operated by a nice older lady and on Friday night she had to close because the majority of her patrons were walking out and not paying. Two of her wait staff abandoned their shifts because they were getting harassed and not getting paid at all let alone tipped. That's as fair of a "snapshot" as any I think. Metro logged over 400 arrests, more than three times the daily average for a NYE. I lost count of how many times somebody talked shit or tried to get one over on me. I had my first real run out ever and more than quadrupled my previous "stiff" record, and then did it again the next three nights consecutive. I honestly don't believe it's possible to accurately depict the weekend without coming across like a racist.

One good time I had specifically though occurred on Saturday. It was about 10 or so and I had a ride going out to a timeshare resort way south end of the Blvd. I was glad to get a ride out there and away from Gridlock 5000, even though I was pretty sure I would be getting the 18th stiff of my weekend. I had passed the point of annoyed sometime yesterday and switched from "making money mode" to "survival mode" hours ago. Switching to survival mode is necessary every once in a while, like when it rains or when you have PacMan Jones in your cab. Anyway, I dropped off the nice black folks and did indeed get stiffed for the 18th time. As my passengers cleared I noticed two fat black ladies standing there, it was obvious they were waiting for a cab. On a slow night, there would never be a ride waiting for you at this place when you dropped but tonight all bets all off.

They got in, one sat shotgun the other in the backseat. Shotgun immediately starting giving me shit:

Damn you took forever, we called you over an hour ago!

Actually you didn't call me, I just happened to drop here. I'm not here for you.

Whatever.

You can get out and wait for the cab you called if that suits you better.

Whatever

They gave a destination of another timeshare resort located behind the Sahara. A nice ride and a great turnaround for me. It made the inevitable stiff #19 easier to swallow.

Shortly after we were on our way Shotgun proclaims one of the staples:

Don't take us the long way, we know how you cabbies do.

I didn't respond. A couple of minutes pass and then she says:

We just need to change real quick and then we're going out to the club, can you wait for us? We don't feel like waiting again for a cab.

You're out of your fucking mind lady. I think she could tell from my reaction that wasn't happening so then she asks me:

Well can we get your number then so we can just call you when we're ready?

That depends.

Backseat:

Depends on what?

Before I could even say anything Shotgun answered:

Depends on his tip. He's trying to get paid.

What do you think this is lady? I'm out here kickin it so I can hook your unappreciative ass up? I just do favors for people like you all night while I should be earning a living? Then when my landlord wants the rent money I can just do him a favor or two and we're straight, right? And I know Nevada Power needs some fuckin favors too so it's all good.

Well yeah. What do you think?

So how much?

For what? For me to drop whatever it is that I'm doing when you call, to possibly have to drive from all the way across town in the worst traffic I have ever seen to pick you up?

Yeah.

50 bucks. Plus whatever that ride cost you.

50 bucks??? You're crazy!

I had a feeling you might say that. Realize however that many would consider that a bargain....So don't pay me and you can wait for cab again like you just did. If you want that type of service you have to pay for it. This is a concept most people understand.

Ok fine so this chick probably doesn't like me anymore. I can live with that. I didn't like her first.

So I took the BLVD to the 215 interchange, then we jumped on that EB so we can cut through the tunnel and go straight down Paradise. Avoiding GL5K altogether. An ingenious route in all of it's simplicity, and all the while not any longer than any other route you could come up with. I challenge anyone to find a better way from 9000blk S. L.V. BLVD to Karen & Swenson in these conditions.

But, right on cue as we enter the tunnel they both start accusing me of taking them the long way. I actually predicted that this would happen at this exact moment. You see, they're doing this as a means of one of two things:

1. They're not going to tip you and would like to have a justification. Or,
2. They're not going to pay you at all and would like to have a justification.

I don't respond. No reason to talk at all anymore if you think about it.

I stay on Swenson because Paradise was still very heavy traffic. We're cruising along wide open north of Flamingo when they accuse me of long hauling them again. I ignored them again. Shortly thereafter Shotgun says that we need to stop because she needs cigarettes. If there is any such thing as karma at all I would bet a $1000 that part of the reason the cab they called took so long was that the driver had to stop because some stupid bitch needed a Big Gulp or something. Also worth noting is how she doesn't ask if we can stop, she tells me we're stopping. It reminded me of the hooker demanding my cellphone the other day. But whatever, we'll stop, there's a 7-11 right here at DI....

I park at the front door and Shotgun walks in by herself. Right on cue with the first meter click (when we're not moving) Backseat says:

Did the meter just move? Why is the meter moving? We're not moving?

......It moved.

We're stopped though what the fuck?

Wait time. 36 cents a minute.

Shotgun pays for her cigs and begins flirting with a dude on his way in as she's on her way out. Apparently the guy has a thing for fat, loud and annoying chicks. This doesn't go on for 10 seconds and right on cue again Backseat yells:

LET'S GO THIS METER IS RUNNIN!!!

Shotgun hears the news and is soon back in the car. I got a pretty sweet booby shake as she ran back. She gets back in and lights a cigarette as we pull back onto Swenson. I made her put it out. I watched her snap the pack, open it, throw the wrapper out the window, put one in her mouth, dig through her purse for her lighter, and light it. As soon as it was lit I said:

Can you put that out for me? This a non-smoking cab.

The look on her face was worth the price of admission. She threw it out the window.

We're just a few blocks away now and are there in no time. I pull into the driveway and the meter reads $24.45. They are talking forever basically trying to figure out how they can split $24.45 in half perfectly. I get out, walk around and open both of their doors as a means of forcing the issue. Shotgun gets out and surprisingly has a pretty big wad of cash, fairly neatly organized. I noticed a hundo or two, bunch of 20's and a lot of other miscellaneous bills. She pulled out a twenty and a five and handed them to me.

So can I get your number so we can call you when we're ready?

50 bucks.

Whatever. If you don't give me your number I'm not going to tip you at all right now...in fact I want my 55 cents.

I laughed.

Of course you do. And you weren't going to tip me anything anyway.

I reached into my breast pocket and handed her a one dollar bill. She added the single to her pile and as she opens up her purse with her offhand to insert the money back into it, she manages to drop the entire loaf on the ground. The pile separated into an area that could have been surrounded by a Hula-Hoop,..but it was windy out!

Immediately every single bill took off in its own direction, many high into the air and I had a front row seat for the best show on the strip. Two, fat, loud, annoying, cheap ass, bitches running around in heels trying to step on and reach for all the cash they could. It was like a life sized money madness machine. There are others standing around watching this fiasco but it didn't take long for Shotgun to notice me standing there laughing.

WHY AREN'T YOU HELPING!?

#19.





_