What is it with besties who refuse to escort their severely debilitated friends home, or even provide the fare for them? It happens all the time. They use taxis like ambulances, for free patient transfers.
Over the weekend I took a fella to a Broadway hotel. The joint was once a favourite with the student grunge crowd for it's live music. "Now," he said, "it's just another club full of teens from the 'burbs".
A young woman waited at the door whilst he paid, then asked if I could take her friend down to The Shire. Sure, I said, happy to oblige as that district has work on a Saturday night. Then she produced the friend - totally legless.
She tried to pour her into the front seat but they missed and the drunken girl fell backwards into the gutter. Her lack of stability was exacerbated by a pair of elevated chunky shoes. And a ridiculous mini skirt, in the middle winter, didn't help her disposition, either.
On the second attempt they made it and I laid out the rules to the girlfriend. “I need the address and I want to see the money.” Of course not. The victim had been robbed, a usual story, and the mother would pay the $80 fare. Girlfriend showed me the address on an iPhone but it was unreadable.
I pulled on the handbrake. “I want to talk to the mother.” “What?” “Ring her mother, I want to arrange this with her.” Or someone who was sober to provide assurances on the address, the fare, and any clean-up penalty. If the kid wasn't collected and paid for, then she would be left at the nearest police station.
This request caused the girlfriend to immediately change tack. “Come on, Chantelle, get out! He won't take you.” And she proceeded to drag the now crying girl out of the cab, resulting in both falling backwards straight into the gutter. Again. Girlfriend yelled and the patient howled.
Hotel security arrived and waved me off but I was trapped by an open door and the girl's feet under the cab. What a joke. Sorry, besties, but cabbies don't do baby-sitting. That's your job.
Two ancient stories from when I was a cabbie now (I'm shocked to realise) thirty years ago which may amuse you.
Radio job from the then "Newtown Businessmen's Club" in Albermarle Street in Newtown (in the first block off Australia St on the opposite side to the Carlisle Hotel - apparently a gay venue though I only knew it as a late-night drinking venue when such were rare). Passenger brought out and eased in the back of the cab, pretty drunk. It's only after a little while that I realised that he had shat himself. Yuck! I think I was more keen to be rid of him than to attempt to extract any extra payment for that. And I doubt if it was even a particularly long fare.
Street hail opposite the "Newington Arms" heading back into town. Two passengers get out at [then] Enmore Post Office opposite the Warren View. Left with one rather melancholy and inebriated woman in the front seat. OK, maybe she wasn't that old as I would see it now but I was probably only 20 or 21. I agree to take her to Newtown Station gratis. When it was time to get out, she wanted to kiss me thankyou. I said: "I'd rather just shake your hand."
Posted by: marcellous | July 27, 2012 at 10:44 PM