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.

I got served. It's so on.

The loud knocking at the door startled me as I was sitting in front of this very computer. The Mormons never come after dark, my neighbor is nice enough just to call me when the music is to loud and I wasn't expecting any lady callers tonight so to say I was surprised by the three monotonous knocks would be an understatement. I got up from this comfortable chair and made my way to the front door, turning on the porch light and looking through the peephole once I arrived. My peek yielded no fruit but I unlocked and opened the door anyway. There was no one there, however I quickly noticed the large manila envelope staring up at me from my welcome mat.

It wasn't a normal manila envelope. You know the kind with the hole in the center of the lip and the little wing nut looking thing attached to the backside of the envelope? This wasn't one of those. This one had a red nickel sized piece of cardboard on the lip side and a similar one on the backside of the manila. A little red string wrapped around each kept the envelope from opening. There are good manila envelopes and bad manila envelopes, this most certainly was going to be a bad one. I had no doubts.

All my debt is taken care of so I ruled out the collectors as I opened the manila to reveal about ten sheets of paper. The first two were stapled together and had some really official sounding phrases typed onto it like, "State of Nevada", "County of Clark" and "Affidavit of Service". These sheets looked like the most uncool Mad-Lib ever. I say that because there were many spaces on this form left empty and waiting to be completed. The second 8 pages or so were stapled together as well and had some sweet sounding phrases such as: "Las Vegas Justice Court", "General Allegations" and "Defendant" preceding my name.

Further reading disclosed the real dilemma. I'm being sued. According to the resident ambulance chaser, I "negligently operated my vehicle" and as a direct result of that the plaintiff (a.k.a. the prick who was also cited at the scene) sustained injuries to his "back, shoulders, bodily limbs(apparently there are other kinds of limbs) organs & systems...all or some of which conditions may be permanent and disabling, and all to Plaintiff's damage in sum in excess of $5,000."


Sued by that fucking prick that I was involved in my last accident with...a year and a half ago. Interesting that this story resurfaces again. You can read it again for the first time and watch the videos of the crash HERE. What a joke. As I said before and I'll never forget that douche bags first comment to me. We both exited our vehicles and the very first thing out of my mouth after he stopped cursing at me was:

Are you OK?

Douche bag looks at me, looks at the cab, looks back at me. Then he shrugs his shoulders as he says:

I don't know.

What a tool.

In other news my employer is also named as a defendant in the suit. As they should because you'd have to be an idiot to just sue me. I don't have anything to give them. You gotta sue the people with the money, and my company certainly has some of that.

Now this tale doesn't fulfill my original criteria for blogging which was, it has to be "either funny and/or interesting" before I'll post it. This news bulletin is definitely neither. But, it is a chronicle, and it is most certainly on.

XXXIII

I don't really like to tell what I call "second hand" stories. Oftentimes I will hear something funny or interesting from a passenger about their lives and I generally enjoy such tales. However, I've never thought that retelling someone else' story here really works well for the purposes of this blog. After all, this is the Las Vegas Cabbie Chronicles, not the Las Vegas Cabbie Passenger Chronicles. Nonetheless, there are exceptions to every rule....

It was mid afternoon and I was on the nut at the Golden Nugget, downtown. The whistle blew calling me up and as I was approaching the front door, I caught a glance of my passengers to be. It was a very old couple. A white man, whose name I found out later was Tom, and a asian lady, Yuki. Two carry on size pieces of luggage sat beside them. I popped the trunk lid as I came to a stop and got out to assist the bellman with the bags. I closed the trunk and opened the passenger side door for Yuki. The bellman opened the other door for Tom and said enthusiastically as he got in:

Have a safe trip, we'll see you next time!

Tom replied:

Doubt we'll be back, but thank you.

I walked around to my door and thought that was strange. Who doesn't have a fun time in Las Vegas? I dismissed the notion thinking that Luck must not have been a Lady for these two. After I climbed in I had no choice but to notice Tom's Navy blue hat, starring at me through the rear-view mirror.

USS TENNESSEE
BB-43

I thought I would break the ice...

Sorry you guys didn't enjoy Las Vegas.

Tom replied:

Oh no, it's not that. We had a wonderful time. We just got married here, seen some excellent shows, had a amazing suite and we even won some money!

Oh, well that's great then. My apologies, I overheard what you said to the bellman and gathered you didn't have a good time.

He laughed.

No. I said that because we don't know how much longer we're going to be on this earth, so a second trip to Vegas probably isn't in our deck of cards. This was our first time to Las Vegas and will most likely be our last.

I had nothing to say in response to that so I decided to try and change the subject to something that was undoubtedly more interesting.

So you guys just got married?

Yuki happily chimed in with a big beautiful smile on her face:

That's right, yesterday!

Wow that's great. Congratulations. So how long have you two known each other?

They looked at each other and smiled, then Tom replied:

65 years or so.

65 years!!?... And you just got married yesterday? That's one hell of an engagement! That must be an amazing story.

It is.

Yuki said.

You wouldn't mind telling it to me would you? My curiosity is piqued right now.

I inquired.

It almost seemed from the way Tom said "well", that he would be telling it for the first time:

Well, I joined the Navy shortly after I graduated from High School. I wasn't done with boot camp for long before I was assigned to the USS Tennessee in Pearl Harbor. Consequently forcing me to leave my friends, my family, my home and my long term girlfriend Patricia behind. I arrived at Pearl November 1, 1941, five weeks prior to the attacks there.

During my assignment in Hawaii is when I met Yuki. I first seen her at a marketplace outside the Naval Station, and she was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes upon. It was something that I felt immediately when I first seen her. I didn't find out until decades later that Yuki in fact had the same feeling at that very moment. Isn't that right sweetheart?

That's right!

Yuki said.

Tom continued:

Knowing that I had to meet this girl, I walked up and introduced myself and we immediately connected. We started spending time together but things were complicated. I wanted to remain loyal to my first love Patricia and as it turned out, Yuki was already engaged to a man by the name of Kioshi. We both respected each others current relationships, so we had no choice but to be strictly friends and friends only. If we wanted to spend time together that was the way it had to be. Despite the unbearable tension, I spent every free moment I had with Yuki, and hers with me. We knew that I could not have her, and she could not have me. But, we also knew that not seeing each other at all would have been worse. It seemed like an impossibility wrapped in a destiny. Kioshi soon found out about me and he forbid her to see me anymore, even though we had never even held hands. For a month I spent time with the girl of my dreams without ever feeling the grace of her skin.

Two days after Kioshi' proclamation the calender read: December 7th, 1941. Myself and the Tennessee were both wounded that day. We took multiple direct bomb hits as well as a massive spill over oil fire that we inherited from the Arizona. I thought for sure we were going down. The Arizona eventually sunk but myself and the Tennessee were fortunate enough to survive and we lived to fight another day. We spent a week or two making initial repairs to her and then set sail for Puget Sound mainland Washington, to make the remaining necessary repairs and preparations for war. I never even had a chance to say goodbye to Yuki or to tell her what she meant to me. As we sailed away to the northeast, I knew I would never see her again.

Extensive repairs and modifications were made to the Tennessee and in May of 1943 it was finally time to make our impression on the war. We fought battles at Tarawa, Kwajalein, Eniwetok, New Ireland, Saipan, Guam, Tinian, Anguar and Pelieu. We also played a hand in sinking the mighty Yamashiro in the battle of Surigao Strait. Shortly thereafter we set sail and returned stateside for repairs and another overhaul. We returned to the fight in time to participate in the Iwo Jima Operation. Providing mainly gunfire support for the ground troops.

Throughout my years at sea I would think of Yuki from time to time. I would think of her breathtaking smile and her soft hands that I never felt in mine. I thought about our conversations that flowed smoother than the ocean, and the day at the market when I spotted her for the first time. The only thing that gave me any comfort from the fact that I couldn't see her, was knowing that Kioshi was a good man. I knew he would care for her.

As you know, Japan ultimately surrendered, but we continued to occupy the region until we finally set sail for Philadelphia for good in December, 1946. Soon thereafter myself and the Tennessee were decommissioned from the Navy.


Patricia and I married in the summer of 1948 and we had a wonderful life together. I began working as a plumber and we had two wonderful children. We had been married for 52 years exactly when we discovered that Patricia had cancer. Patricia was a fighter and she lived with it for 3 years when the doctors only gave her a few months. She was my entire life and the mother of my children, I loved her dearly. The pain was unbearable for me. I grieved for a long time and the only thing I took comfort in was the fact that I knew I would be cashing my own ticket in soon. During that time, I knew that there was someone in this world who could make my pain subside. Someone who's eyes I could look into and I would know that everything was going to be alright. Someone I could love. So one day I decided that if Yuki was still out there, I was going to find her. I couldn't live anymore without knowing. I called my travel agent and booked a flight to Hawaii, to search for somebody I hadn't seen or spoken to in 65 years.

Thankfully, she was alive and still lived in the same town. It only took me a day to find her. The first time I looked at her again I had that same feeling in the pit of my stomach that I had 65 years ago. I knew instantly that this was still the love of my life. My soul-mate. I couldn't believe what I heard when Yuki informed me that her story mimicked mine. She had married Kioshi shortly after I shipped out and had been married to him for 52 years until he too, succumbed to cancer.

No way.

I said.


Tom continued:

She was living by herself after Kioshi' passing and she told me that throughout the years, her thoughts would wander to me, just like mine had to her. In fact, I like to think that we were always thinking of each other at the same exact time. Every time I was thinking of Yuki, some thousands of miles away Yuki was thinking of me at that very moment as well. Isn't that right sweetheart?

Tom said half jokingly, Yuki replied, trying not to cry:

That's right.

Wow. Really, unbelievable.

I said as we pulled up to the Hawaiian Airlines drop off at the port.

I can't believe it either, neither of us can.

Tom said.

...So we've spent every waking moment together since. Yuki told me that she felt the same exact way that I did the day she first seen me in the market. But of course she could not say so then, nor could I. Then one night, I asked Yuki to be my wife, "till death do us part", and she graciously accepted. That was two weeks ago and now here we are, on our way back to Hawaii to start our new life together....and telling the story to you.

I turned the meter off, put the cab in park and got out to open the doors for the newlyweds. I opened Tom's door first and as he protracted his feet to the pavement, I ran around and opened Yuki's door. I offered Yuki my hand to assist her out of the cab. She grabbed it and as she stood up she looked at me and I noticed the tears in her eyes.

You're not making moves on my lady there are you sport?

Tom said in his witty way.

No sir, I would never dream of it.

I closed the trunk-lid after grabbing the luggage and that's when Tom noticed that Yuki was crying. He began to slowly navigate his way over to her, seemingly summoning one last burst of strength from his weary legs. Yuki stood there waiting, like she had for all those years. Tom used the advertisement on the trunk and other parts of the cab as a makeshift crutch until he was finally able to completely engulf her in his arms. One across her body, the other behind her head. I set the bags on the curb and couldn't help but stare at their embrace. It was like I was invading them somehow, and I became envious of the most beautiful life moment I have ever witnessed. It was their moment. I cracked a smile and forced my eyes away as I opened the door to get back into the cab. Tom turned his head over Yuki's and said:

Wait son, what do we owe you?

Take care of each other, that's what you owe me. Have a safe flight home, and we'll see you next time you're in Vegas ok?

I drove away and noticed in the rear-view that Tom & Yuki hadn't moved an inch. Still holding each other until they finally disappeared from my sight. I couldn't help but think that Tom had said it best:

"An impossibility wrapped in a destiny"

XXXII

I was dropping off at the IP. When I pulled up there must have been 30 people waiting in line, no cabs to be seen. The couple that was next in line for a cab were impatient and couldn't even wait for my current passenger to exit fully before they tried getting in. The new passenger bumps into my old passenger as he is getting out and they got into it briefly:

Old Passenger:

Watch where the fuck you're going man. You can't wait two seconds for me to get out?....dumb ass...

New Passenger:

Fuck off, I'll do whatever I want.

My old passenger walked away and the new one proceeded to help his drunk girlfriend into the backseat.

This is going to be a fun one I thought. That's F-U-N. I probably should have refused the ride right then and there but I decided to take them. I have no idea why. I asked where they were going and the guy responded:

Take us to Luxor.

She's not going to get sick is she?

No. She's alright.

He said as I turned around to see that the girl is already laying down in the backseat.

Are you sure? ...Because if that chick pukes in my cab we're going to have problems, and I'm not going to walk away like that guy did.

Don't worry about it, she won't get sick

Interestingly, it's always the people who say shit like that who end up causing problems.

Truth be told, I have never had anyone puke in the cab(knock on wood). This is mostly due to the fact that I generally don't load people I think will end up losing their lunch. If I do load them, I'll let them know in advance, like I'm doing here, that there are few things in this world that are going to piss me off more than that.

Look man, if she pukes I'll give you $200 ok? Can you just take us to the Luxor please?

I reached my right hand towards the back seat.

Shake it. If she pukes, you're giving me two hundred dollars.

Fine.

He shook my hand and I turned the meter on. I put the cab in gear and made a right hand turn to go out the back way towards the alley.

Along the way I tried to conceal the fact that I was annoyed, but I'm not very good at that for some reason. We made it all the way to Reno & the BLVD. (directly across the street from Luxor) without incident. I was waiting for the light to change, literally feet from our destination. Then our girl speaks up and says in her best half passed out drunk chick voice:

I think I'm going to puke

I was torn, but I knew I didn't want the two hundred bucks that badly. I rolled the windows down as the guy is trying to convince her to hold it for "few more seconds". The light changed and I motored it up toward the main entrance at the Luxor, thinking the massive speed bumps would be our ultimate demise. Thankfully we made it and as soon as we came to a stop at the front door the girl bolts out of the cab and heads for the bushes that run alongside the base of the pyramid. I got out, walked around to the other side of the cab to address the guy:

Ohhh so close...lucky you. It's $10.70.

I should have figured from the very beginning. How stupid of me....

Can you wait for a second? I need to run inside and use the ATM.

What?

I don't have any cash on me, I need to run inside and use the ATM so I can pay you.

Just so we're clear, you got into my cab without any money to pay for it. On top of that, you placed a bet with me with money that you don't even have. Did I get that right?

If he didn't gather that I was annoyed before he certainly does now.

I guess so...Yeah. Look, it's not a big deal, I'll give you 20 bucks when I get back ok?

Don't tell me it's not a big deal. You're wasting my time right now and unfortunately for you, that's a huge deal as far as I'm concerned. Take out your ATM card, give me your wallet, ID and credit cards as collateral and go get your cash.

I looked over and noticed a bigger line of people waiting for cabs than there was at IP. He took his ATM card out of his wallet and handed the fake leather bi-fold to me.

Ok, I'll be right back. Can you make sure she doesn't wander off while I'm gone?

Go get my twenty bucks.

Asking me for any help at this point is an exercise in futility. He started to walk inside and I climbed back into the cab, catching a glance at the chick still shouting "Europe" at the bushes. I thought to myself that him actually returning with any cash at all was even money at best.

Thankfully our hero returned in a timely fashion. As he walked around to my side I lowered my window and he traded me a twenty spot for his wallet and ID back. I thought we were done but for some reason he couldn't let it be at that:

You know, you don't have to be asshole about it.

I laughed out loud.

That's where you're wrong. If I'm not an asshole than you'll continue to dick me around. That's how it works, trust me. If I let you dick me around, you will. So I'm not going to let you. Forgive me for not being Mr. Nice Guy about you fucking up my program.

He raises his voice:

What's you're deal man?

My deal is, when people waste my time my income is affected. You see all these people here waiting for a cab? I know that doesn't mean shit to you but we're talking about my livelihood here. That's not something that I take lightly and it's incredibly inconsiderate and disrespectful of you to disregard that. Excuse me for trying to hold you accountable to a reasonable standard of taxi-cab patronage. Perhaps if Daddy would have taught you right, you would have made sure you had money to pay for the services you required beforehand. This is a task that 99% of my passengers can negotiate successfully. You on the other hand, are another story.

I want my change.

What?

What was the meter amount? Ten something? I want my nine bucks back.

I laughed out loud again, then looked him right in the eye with a straight face and said:

No.

You can't steal from me like that...I WANT MY FUCKING CHANGE BACK.

He said it loud enough that the doorman gave me a look, along with seemingly everyone in the taxi line.

Who's stealing? You said you would give me 20 dollars for wasting my time. You wasted my time and then you gave me twenty dollars. End of transaction. Our business has concluded thank you.

The sarcastic "thank you" probably didn't help my cause any, but I seriously don't give a fuck at this point. I mean, I fully understand this guys beef with me, I am being an asshole right now. It's the fact that he doesn't understand mine is where the disconnect lies.

He starts yelling at the top of his lungs, presumably to get securities attention.

HEY!!!! THIS GUY WON"T GIVE ME MY CHANGE BACK!! HELP!!!...SOMEBODY!!!

Stop being a little bitch dude. I'm leaving now. I suggest you take down my cab number and file a complaint with the TaxiCab Authority if you feel that strongly about it.

I said as I rolled up my window. By this time of course there is a line of cabs so they're not going to load me, I have to go to the back of the line. So I put the cab in gear and slowly drove away hoping the guy wouldn't do anything really stupid. As I pulled away I could see in the rear view that he was checking out my cab number. I wasn't worried in the least about hearing from the TA later. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. If it appears at all, which it probably won't. Sorry, but I'm not paying sweetheart ten bucks because he got his feelings hurt. Besides, I told him exactly what to do if he really feels he was wronged.

I exited Luxor's property and went directly across the street to the end of the cab line at Mandalay Bay. Standard operating procedure for me after clearing at Luxor. After staging for a few minutes I found myself as the fourth cab in line. On the sidewalk adjacent to to the cab line I noticed two very attractive blonds, one holding a small white "accessory" dog in her arm. You know that retarded fad you see on MTV and other lame stations? They were bent over talking to the second cab in line through his shotgun window. The spoke for a short time, then the girls walked back one cab to the 3rd one in line. That driver rolled down his window, the girls bent over and talked to him for about a minute. Apparently not getting the answer they wanted, they stopped talking to that driver and our eyes met as they approached my cab.

I locked my doors and rolled my passenger side window down. Every time you see other drivers refuse something, it's a good clue that it's something you're not going to want to do either. (See this story) The trendy dog holder bent over and stuck her head in:

Can you take us to the Candlewood Suites?...We don't have any cash on us but we do in our room, so can you take us and wait for us to run upstairs and get the money to pay you?...We'll give you a big tip for the trouble.

I laughed out loud, again. However, the best thing these chicks had going for themselves, besides being hot, was the fact that they were telling the drivers what the situation was beforehand. A fundamental, however incredibly important distinction in my mind. They informed me of the risk from the very beginning. If I take them, it's my own fault if I end up not getting paid. I thought about it, then replied:

That's fine, I'll help you guys out. But I'm holding Sparky for ransom until you get back.