WEEK TWO: Monday - Attitudes and Asses

My first fare of the day was a guy who was already pissed when he got in the car.  He was a large man, who informed me he had a bad back and this car was too small for him to get in and out of easily.  He said he'd take the ride this time so as not to stiff me, but he'd need a van from now on.  I apologized for his discomfort and told him I would inform dispatch.  He appeared mollified, because he stopped being angry ... and started being condescending.  He told me that after using the service for several years, he knew all the tricks of the trade.  He even saw fit to share some of them with me.  He also told me to ignore the GPS because he knew a better route.  All the while, he punctuated every sentence with "Honey".

Now, I chose to let this slide because I decided that spending an hour and a half in an enclosed space (45 minutes each way to and from the methodone clinic) with a condescending douchebag was better than spending even 5 minutes of it with an angry asshole, and wouldn't you know, by the time I'd dropped him back at his home he was singing an entirely different tune.  As he got out he told me not only that I was a good driver, but that I had a good disposition to boot.  Ask me how rewarding that was.  I left his house feeling that if this whole livery driving thing didn't pan out, I might just have a career as a snake charmer.

Later that day I picked up another man who'd been using the service for years, and who also had a friend who was a driver.  Before he got out he warned me of one of the lesser known occupational hazards of sitting for so long.  I assumed he was about to warn me of the dangers of poor circulation, but I was wrong.  No, he was warning me about hemorrhoids.

Hemorrhoids.

Today a stranger with a club foot warned me to keep an eye out for hemorrhoids.

Remember what I said yesterday about the bizarre level of trust that passengers place in their drivers to get them to their destination safely?  Yeah.  Well.  Apparently that's not the only kind of bizarre trust that occurs between driver and passenger.

And thank god for that.

Day Four: Pee and Pregnancy

How you know you're in a bathroom that's occupied primarily by men:  1)  When you see a sign warning everyone not to "abuse" the facility lest it get shut down again;  2)  When you walk through the unlocked door straight into the sight of a guy standing, completely unphased, at the urinal.

Ah, Driver's Lounge Bathroom.  Always an adventure.

Today one of my fares was a pregnant woman.  When the significance of this hit me, I was as honored as I was terrified.  It's a remarkable thing, how unthinkingly we will entrust strangers with our own safety, and the safety of our little ones, during what is arguably the most dangerous activity of the day.  Makes a person realize that the line between faith and denial is very thin indeed.

Day Three - Classic Rock and Parking Lot Naps

Until such time as I get my schmancy new-to-me iPod all loaded up with audiobooks, I spend my days in the cab listening to NPR.  And therefore - unapologetically - subjecting my passengers to NPR.  They're usually good about it, but today I had a passenger who specifically asked if we could listen to music.  I was feeling expansive, so I obliged.  Unfortunately, the only thing that was coming in clear was the local classic rock station.  I naively assumed she and I were on the same page in merely tolerating the shit that was emanating from the speakers until we moved into an area where I could find something better.  But, to my horror, when a Van Halen song came on and I grunted and reached to change the channel, she asked, "Oh, you don't like that song?" 

I sighed and took my hand away, generously sacrificing my ears while earnestly hoping I never had to pick this client up again.

I was rewarded for my profound sacrifice during the last hour of my shift, however, when no new calls came on the board.  Pulled into an empty parking lot, locked the doors, put my seat back, shut my eyes ... and passed out. 

Yup.  Getting paid to sleep.  Living the American Dream.

Day Two - Occupational and Health Hazards

Ah, the irresistible power of motion.  Makes it so a person can get into a car driven by a total stranger ... and promptly fall asleep. 

As a result of this fabulous phenomenon, today I discovered my first occupational hazard - the hilarity of the sleep apnea afflicted passenger buzzing like a chainsaw in the backseat.  It was all I could do to contain my laughter when, at one point, my snoring passenger suddenly jerked herself awake with a snort.

And then fell back asleep.

So, thinking more about the archetypes I mentioned yesterday, it hit me today that these people are really just lonely and all they want is to talk to someone.

And then I realized that all *I* want is to talk to someone.  I looked in the backseat today and saw my future flash before my eyes.

Which, of course, scared the crap out of me.

So I put my fingers in my ears, chant "La la la la la", and move on to Occupational Hazard Number Two:  Having To Rely On Public Restrooms.  


When you work full time in an office environment, you take the employee bathroom for granted.  And I'm here to say ... don't.  Appreciate that employee bathroom.  Whisper sweet nothings to that employee bathroom.  Take that employee bathroom out for a big steak dinner.  Because let me tell you, you never know what you're gonna get when you walk through the door of a gas station bathroom.  


Today for example, I walked around the side of the building, opened the door ... and stepped straight into the 50's.  Everything in that bathroom was, without a shadow of a doubt, just as it was when the station was built 60 years ago.  Everything.  Even the bar of soap.


The brown bar of soap.  


Today I washed my 40 year old hands with a 60 year old bar of dirty soap.  


It was like a zen koan.  


A disgusting zen koan.

Day One - The Three Archetypes

Welcome!  My name's Giovanna, and I'll be your tour guide through the wondrous, delicate, complex world of livery driving. 


Livery driving, in this context, entails driving primarily low-income people to and from medical appointments. People on disability, people with mental health issues, people going to the methadone clinic for their daily dose. 

Oh yes.  Did I mention that? Yeah. I now know the locations of all the methadone clinics in the state.  

How's that for a resume builder?
So here we are. Monday. 6 a.m.  My first day on the road.  First of all, let me set the tone:  all the following stories take place within the confines of a white, natural-gas-powered, 2011 Honda Civic.  Car number 409.  Formula 409, I call her.  When I was handed the keys she had a mere 250 miles on her. I've never driven a car with less than 5 digits worth of miles on her, so this was a real treat.
Already within the first day I discovered that, loosely speaking, the majority of my passengers were going to fall into one of three categories:  Quiet and Pissy, Friendly but Otherwise Occupied (the cream of the crop), and Crazy and Chatty.  (This last group makes for some of the best stories, but are by far the most emotionally draining.)


Of course, all of these, when coupled with the motion of a smoothly-driven vehicle (a rarity in the world of cab drivers, if I may be allowed to toot my own natural-gas-powered horn for a moment), can quickly morph into a fourth category:  Awesomely Asleep.  A hands-down favorite.
A footnote - it is to be understood that when I talk about the inhabitants of Sims Livery, I do so with the utmost respect.  When I laugh, I'm laughing at The Human Condition, not the individuals themselves.