New prose by Craig.

Wasn't the Full Moon just two or three nights ago? Must be a delayed reaction.

A strange shift. I went into service at 4:00, and immediately had two trips in a row. An excellent start. It was shaping nicely into what promised to be a good, steady roll right out of the chute then...nothing. The phones had quit working by then, and were lifeless initially for 2 1/2 hours or so. Any hack will tell you there's something not quite right about long, silent radio periods. Thanks, GCI. Stood pat for quite awhile rather than chase phantoms, then decided to play the airport. Speaking of phantoms. I figured there would be lots of cabs there and was right, but still was lucky to flag two pretty decent trips anyway. I love it when they'll walk by a whole line of cabs and then stop at mine.

So far, so good, all in all.

Phones were up and sporadically ringing by then and Trulee, the dispatcher, sent me to Oaken Keg. Liquor stores are rarely decent sources of customers, but somebody has to do it, right? So I ignored my gut feeling - invariably a mistake on my part - and went anyway. To find a tweaker. I didn't know that about him before I picked him up, of course, but eventually suspected he might be psychotic as well when he volunteered, out of nowhere, that he was a multiple felon. No, I didn't ask which ones.

He wanted to go home to the Monson Motel, but decided on the way that he had to have a movie to watch. No problem, so we stopped at Blockbuster. Returned a few minutes later pretty pissed at the clerks because they wouldn't rent him some movie called Green River Killer that he wanted to see, but probably really wanted to study and someday practice. I figure they just didn't have it on hand, but reality is relative and can be fleeting for some.

It sort of explains why he cursed popcorn when, in a failed diversionary effort to chit-chat, I suggested that it goes well with a movie. Or maybe not. Hell, I don't know. Just know that when Karma decides to take a shift off, I might as well save some gas too so, thank you, and good night.

New prose by Don Cole.

On last Friday night (Halloween) in the Fairbanks cab biz:

I have mixed feelings here. Friday I had 3 pukers, was delayed an hour and 15 minutes with a starter going down, and lost my brakes completely. Thought I was going to die on the last one. Here is a gem though. Friday while sitting in front of the Golden Nugget I was approached by a guy on the driver's side. He asked me if I wanted to have some glossy postcard-sized flyers concerning porn star superstars. My gut told me he would move on quicker if I took them so I did. He told me they were coming to the Castle. "Is the Castle open now?" I asked. "It's the other Castle (sex toys, ed.) by the Bentley Mall. I figure if a lot of people go, there will be more porn star superstars coming up here so be sure to go." "I will eagerly attend," says I. He walked south.

JJ at work.

Saturday night, Eagle/Yellow Cab dispatch office, Fairbanks, iPhone cam.

Cab driver brains.

It's reassuring to know we have any left.

Prose by Don Cole.

Loopy with a taxi

They reeled with puke jumping at their throats. They chased dope. Hot after vaginas and penis they flocked in a storm. I drove them to jumping off points for ever more worthless paper. They came back to me soiled and I returned them to their crumbling nests.

I'm not qualified.

What is it about cabs? People will tell you stuff they'd never tell their spouse, their shrink, their doctor, their priest. Not even their bartender. Outrageous stuff.

News flash: thanks for sharing, but I'm not qualified. My degree's in English. I'd rather talk about Spinoza, and I'm much more concerned with your ability/willingness to pay me than the sordid, tawdry details of your pathetic life. You know, maybe you should pull the trigger and get out of the way.

Nothing personal. $7.90, please.

The second-oldest profession.

Without which the first wouldn't have been possible.

Don't recall where I found this first, but I'm sure there's no Creative Commons license. I make no money off this commentary, but Ken, I can get you about anything you want with a phone call, if you like. I'm a cab driver, everyone knows how much we really make. Or just move into the extortion chair at the right dispatch office. You know how to find me.