Eclectic Views

    
Okay boys and girls, your task is to FIND <static> on the streets of 
San Fransico, walk up to him and say "my name Joe".

If you correctly identify him while he's on duty, your prize will be
a pleasant ride to the location of your choice, in exchange for 
standard fare and the customary gratuity.
  

    
Hah! I am going out for a half-shift shortly. 
  

    
I'm curious about the guys willing to wait the whole two hours at the
airport. Why? Sounds more lucrative to spend that time on the active
streets.
  

    
No wasted gasoline and maybe the gambling and socializing are
alluring? 
  

    
Good chance of substantial tips, and, if they take a liking to you, they 
may ask for your cell phone number so they can bypass dispatch and deal 
with someone they already know, while staying in your city.

(I drove for Yellow Cab in Denver, briefly, a long time ago.  Frankly, 
though, I wasn't entrepreneurial enough to ever be good at it.)
  

    
And maybe the cab ride will be to Concord instead of the City?

I thought that you had to have a special medalian or something to do pickups
at the airport.  Paid extra for it and all.  Does your cab company take care
of that for you, and it's in your lease fee?

And are you blogging this?
  

    
I once lived in Burlingame and wondered why the cab drivers were so
glum when I took one home from the airport.
  

    
Was it an SF cab?  I believe it's illegal for them to take you to
Burlingame from the airport.
  

    
 I caught a cab home from the airport when I came back from Berkeley a
couple weeks ago. He caught me in a foul mood. I was ranting and
raving about the damn baggage claim ordeal. The Oakland airport made me
check a bag which I had been allowed to carry on when leaving Phoenix.
The cabby (a guy from Kuwait) listened patiently as I howled about the
carousel lacking a flight number display and the needless wait. Then
when I was finished with my rant, he cheerfully went into one of his
own -- the taxi/limousine war. The cab drivers are all hopping mad at
the limo drivers, especially since they don't have to follow the same
rules. I listened to him pretty solidly for the fifteen minutes it took
to get home, feeling much less sorry for myself and my piddly baggage
rigamarole. And I tipped him -- gave him a $20 for the $16 fare. I
could say I was thinking about Joey, but I was just in a big hurry to
get into my cozy house.
  

    
I find myself wondering why someone from Kuwait would want to drive a
cab in Arizona, but cool story anyway.
  

    
Letterman would have ended that story with a slow motion close up of
<bratwood> and <kuwaitdriver>'s hands locking for a quick shake of
friendship, bonded in the language of rants.  James Taylor would have been
playing over top the visual.
  

    
Hmmm... If he really was from Kuwait, and not just saying that to
circumvent possible Middle Eastern stigma (thereby reducing his tip),
he certainly had more vitriol for the limo drivers than he did for
Saddam. I remember asking him about issues in the homeland, his
family's safety, but he didn't seem to want to focus on that.
  

    
> I find myself wondering why someone from Kuwait would want to drive
> a cab in Arizona, but cool story anyway.

Kuwait doesn't confer citizenship by right of birth.  Lots of people
borne in Kuwait are essentially stateless.
  

    
Well, yeah, but in my experience Palestinians or Yemenis and Egyptians
born in Kuwait don't generally tell people they're "from Kuwait,"
either.
  

    
I guess.  Would they still consider themselves any of the above in the
2nd or 3rd generation?  Do those countries issue passports to
descendents at that remove?
  

    
I got a call from Manny the Greek just before 7:00 am. Since I was
first on the fill-in list, he was calling me to let me know that there
was a car available. I could work a “half shift” if I wanted to.

A half shift is more manageable than a full shift. Although the law
states that a taxi driver may not drive for more than 10 hours, the
company that I drive for has twelve hour shifts. If all goes well, you
stand to make approximately $70 in those two extra hours.
If all goes badly, you will be fatigued and collide with a shopping
cart hobbyist on lower Market street.

Of course, I haven't seen any days with a $35 an hour average. My
hours are getting to be about $10 an hour, what with all the rinky-dink
loads that I have been getting. 

But getting them I have! 

Trying another tack yesterday, I avoided the hotels and Furniture Mart
and just sailed around the streets waiting for hail to freeze over.
Sure enough, I would get a raised hand precisely when I was *not*
looking for one. A local would get in, knowing exactly which way they
wanted to go and pay me for the privilege of taking them there. The
added plus is that I get to chat with them, try to loosen them up,
cheer them up or simply agree with whatever nonsense that they are
spouting. 

I am a therapist on wheels.

I was getting back to back fares there for awhile, I had no chance to
use my cell phone, read the paper or even listen to the KQED pledge
drive. Luckily, I didn't need to pee.
The fares were all just a mile or two, and with traffic and stop
lights these fares were all under $10 each. But even $1 bills add up
after awhile, and I can use a lot more of those. 

As afternoon started to commence, the traffic down in the Financial
got worse, but that is where the people are; the people who had all
just gotten paid and were celebrating by getting in my car rather than
taking Muni home. I drove down to 555 California and got in line. The
loads were regular as clockwork.

"What are you big plans for the weekend?" I would ask. Everybody gets
my chat.

Most were going to watch the Superbowl (one had purchased a new
plasma-screened TV and was inviting his buddies over), another was
going to exercise after she did housework. She needed to get to her
hair appointment at Fifth and Market and was fretting about being late.
Another directed me to an upscale wine shop on Polk Street and then
tipped me three dollars on a six dollar fare. She also told me horror
stories about foreign-born cab drivers who would take her in precisely
the wrong direction that she wanted to go. She knew, to the penny, how
much her fare should be.

Back at B of A, I picked up a sad looking, youngish Black man just
getting off of work from the bank HQ. 

"Big plans for the weekend?" I asked.

"I suppose that I will watch the Superbowl, but I don't care about it
much" he replied.

"Well," I persisted, "I am not much of a sports guy, so who is
favored?" 

"The Patriots are favored," he said, "...but I am hoping for a
Panthers win". His face was still glum. Hard day at work.

I told him that it was tough to be guy and not to be a sports fan.
I told him how I generally faked my sports knowledge by asking, "You
think that they will go all the way this year? There sure are a lot of
injuries on that team" a phrase that applicable for just about any
sports situation. He liked that one.

I dropped him at Sutter and Taylor. I had finally made him smile.
  

    
Sounds like you'd make a decent bartender too.
  

    
The dispatcher called out “The Green Tortoise Hostel”. 

I was down in the Financial, far too far away. Or so I thought. “Three
cabs now needed”, Nick the dispatcher called out. Cabs still were
checking in, snagging those loads, but I swung the wheel around and
headed out to Broadway, down near the Condor, just in case.

As a backpacker, I am well aware of where that hostel is (though I
always tell other travelers to go to use the Pacific Tradewinds hostel
at 680 Sacramento Street. ) The Green Tortoise hostel is noted for
being as grubby as their busses.  

Even locals would be astonished to learn that there are many privately
owned independent youth hostels in San Francisco catering to
backpackers and travelers from around the world. These places are well
known throughout the travelers network, but are not advertised locally
and fly well beneath the radar of most people.

To my surprise, I was the second taxi to arrive. The others had been
lying through their teeth about their locations, and one of the loads
was now mine, fair and square.

Four young backpackers, three women and one guy, all about 19 or 20
years old, lugged their packs to the curb. I put on the four-way
flashers and popped the trunk.

Normally, I can tell exactly where someone is from by the brand of
backpack someone has, but these brands were low end, European brands
that even I hadn’t heard of. Typical flags patches were sewn on the
packs, and by those, I could see that one of them had recently been to
Tanzania and South Africa, but none of the packs were sporting their
own country’s flag. They were certainly not Canadians.

Swedish? Norwegian? Finnish? I couldn’t make out the language. I asked
them how long they had been in San Francisco (three days) and where
they were going (Los Angeles) and how long they planned on spending
there (two days!). “With only two days,” I asked, “what do you plan on
seeing in Los Angeles first?” 

“Hollywood!” was the unanimous reply. “we study film at University”

“But why only two days?” I said, “you can’t see much of Los Angeles in
two days”

“Well,” the guy answered, “We all catch a flight to Fiji after that.
It is 32 degrees there” (I speak Celsius. Being from the Bay Area
though, anything over 25 makes me sweat.)

I knew then what this group was up to. They were on a RTW (Round the
world) trip.

“And after that?” I asked.

“Australia – New Zealand – Thailand – Cambodia” they said.

I dropped them at O’Farrell and Mason, where the secret backpacker bus
departs from. This bus is advertised only through the hostels and
plies the SF – LA route. It is quite nice.

The fare came to $8.25 and I asked for $8.00 and they all chipped in
to pay. I may be a cab driver, but I am a backpacker first and
foremost. 

$8.00 was plenty.
  

    
You should try to find a paying outlet for this stuff!
  

    
Thanks, but some dude already has that gig sewn up at the Chron.

I would be happy to publish it anywhere else. My own family is quite
amused, but they are tired of helping me make rent.
  

    
I'm beginning to wish for a wireless StaticCam.
  

    

This is great stuff. 

After having been ripped off by cab drivers in Japan and India as well as
the US, I get suspicious when getting into a cab because a few will drive
a long-way around.  My tip depends on my perception that they guy has
driven directly to my destination.
  

    

Great stuff, Joe.  Fuck the Chronicle, there's gotta be someplace
that'll take this. Will Drive for Byline.
  

    
Thanks!
  

    
Great reading <static>.