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.
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