Making Luck

Winter for cabbies is the time of year when after nine hours work you think the takings are sweet. Only to realize you’ve barely covered overheads plus dinner money and a packet of fags. So commences the after-midnight hustle in a desperate attempt to make the evening worthwhile. Which means stop bludging on quiet office ranks and start trawling for drunks and stragglers.

This was the position in which I found myself at 1am this morning, with little prospect of further work, or so I thought. After exiting a City full of Vacant cabs for possible street hails, in otherwise dead suburbs, I scored a radio job from Edgecliffe to Coogee.

One block from the address, a woman standing on a corner hailed me. Could this be my radio booking, I wondered, and I checked the name. Nup, the job was for a man named Sam and I drove past. Of course, as there was no one waiting at the address, that woman was obviously my fare, named Samantha. Doh. My own stupid fault for not stopping and asking. This really annoyed me and I almost dogged it by going home, yet reluctantly decided to persevere.

However within five minutes a drunken young fella outside a Double Bay hotel hailed me for Coogee ! Talk about stupid luck. Firstly though, he almost blew up my radio speakers searching for, ‘ rock n’roll, mate !’, before I succeeded in distracting him by mocking him for wearing thongs in winter. ‘Mate, I’m from the New England tablelands - this ain’t cold’. This lead to a fruitful discussion about life on his parent’s farm and the price of beef, ensuring a small tip at the destination.

Outside the Coogee Bay Hotel at 1.30am two drunken young Kiwi fellas boarded for the Pyrmont Hotel at Darling Harbour. Automatically I assailed them with the usual Kiwi jokes, ‘What do you call a Kiwi in a suit ? The defendant’. ‘How do Kiwis find sheep in long grass ? Delightful’. They returned the friendly abuse by reminding me of the woeful NSW Waratah's demise in the Rugby Super 14's, won by Kiwis, then they happily tipped.

Immediately on dropping them and turning for home, two drunken young fellas in suits hailed me. ‘Mate, take us to a brothel !’, they demanded. ‘You want something in Kings Cross or somewhere with class ?’, I asked them. ‘We’ve got no idea mate, we’re from Brisbane’. ‘Doesn’t matter’, I laughed, ‘these girls take anyone, even Queenslanders !’. Cruel I know, but that’s how I was after ten long hours of little money.

Last Monday evening I carried the manager of a classy brothel err, bordello and escort agency in Edgecliffe and he’d informed me they paid cabbies for delivering customers. I was aware of this practice amongst strip clubs and brothels but had never bothered to exploit it, usually taking such fares to any 'ol seedy brothel in Surry Hills.

After a two minute trip through the Cross City Tunnel, we arrived within seven minutes. Leaving the cab double-parked, I followed the passengers to the door. The Madame said to me, ‘Wait one minute to make sure they’re staying’. Bemused, I imagined the drunks checking out the merchandise through bleary eyes. ‘We only employ girls aged eighteen to twenty-eight’, the manager had proudly stated on Monday night.

One minute became five and I took the opportunity to have a smoke whilst waiting. A patrolling police car approached, slowed down and checked me out. After giving them a friendly nod they kept going, satisfied I was on-duty and ready to move the cab.

Eventually the Madame emerged with two twenty dollar notes, much to my surprise as I was only expecting one. I guess with her customers spending upwards of two hundred bucks each, she was only too happy to pay per head. With that I happily headed home with ninety bucks taken in the last hour - nailed it ! Talk about making one's own luck.

Comments

[Dirk Thruster]

Pimpin', huh?
You'll have to get some bling for your cab, maybe some spinners, leopard skin seat covers, etc.

[D]

lol Dirk.

But good on you, Adrian. You might aswell claim the money if it's on offer. If you don't, it'll just stay in the establishment owner's pocket (assuming they don't take your commission from the girls' takings!)

[Walter]

"New England Tablelands"? Had to Google that, as a dumb, 'ol American didn't know of a New England outside of North America.

[Huggies]

It's funny a Cabbie I know got smacked in the head because the passanger was playing with the radio in the cab and he told them to get out.

Cabbies at the servo have been telling me it is rather quite here in Brisbane at the moment. I think the cold weather makes people stay in bed.

[joann]

Here in San Jose, California we would all be in jail for the type of activity you had going on. I did pick a guy once that had me taking him from corner to corner to check on his girls. I acted dumb like I didn't know what was happening.

Touch my radio? I think not!

[lg]

As long as you got paid for tripping all over the city...who cares? No one has cause for judgement, particularly when they're wrapped up warmly in their homes at that hour of night!

[adrian]

Pimping! I like it Dirk, especially at $20 per head. Yeah Joann, here the passenger is allowed to request music, which they often interpret as helping themselves. Clowns.

[Walter]

Well since the Oldest Profession is legal Down Under, payolla might well be perfectly legal Down Under as well. Not that I would've turned down a little "tip" from a madam up here, but even though I was driving in a big Navy town (Norfolk, VA) I didn't even really know where the "houses of Ill-repute" were, but then I was also a 6am to 6pm driver.

Back in the day, I would always try to set my cab's radio to non-offensive stations so as to not irritate a possible tip.

[Dan Lew]

she was only too happy to pay per head

So were they :-)