Cab Drivers

Everytime I take a cab it's an experience to say the least. When I'm on my way away from home cabs inspire fear and anxiety, fear that I don't know where I'm headed, anxiety I won't have the money to pay for the ride, fear the cabbie won't be legit and will really take me for a 'ride'. When I'm on my way home a cab inspires a great sense of relief. Relief the journey is almost over, and that soon I'll sleep in my own bed again.

Every cab ride I've taken has inspired a story in my head.

Circa 1996 on Andros Island in the Bahamas, we stepped off our puddle jumper onto a strip of concrete next to a small white building. A black Lincoln town car and a Bahamian in a suit and cabbie hat scooted us in and took off like we were on our way to a secret meeting at the BatCave. Driving at least 80 down a curvy potholed one lane road on the English side of the road in an American style car, the ride nearly made me sick as I was pinballed from the shoulder of one parent to the other I was sandwiched between. The black leather seats were so polished my teenage butt slipped and slid about as far across the road as the car itself.

On my 26th birthday when I drank too much too fast and vomited in the cab on my way home from the bar at midnight-- way too early to be headed home from a cab ride on your birthday in Nevada -- I incited the cabbie's rage to a point he threw his cup of tobacco spit on my apartment door before pounding his fist over and over yelling "you stupid girl, you know how much you cost me, a night of cab rides, I should sue you! You cunt!"

In 2008, my first trip to NY, stepping out of the automatic sliding doors with my carry-on luggage I was met by guy "Need a ride? Skip the line." I immediately said yes without registering the long line of people waiting next to the sign that said "Taxi. Please wait behind the line" Into an unmarked minivan I go, asking for the Times Square Marriott. The van has no mileage ticker and he's texting and calling people on his cell phone in a language I don't understand. He flips from one radio station to another, always seeming to end on rap. I've never been in a cab like this, I think. I wonder if he's legit. I wonder if I have enough money to pay. I wonder if I'm going to Times Square. What if he's calling his friend and they are setting up the kill room. I may never get out of this alive. Finally I ask him the cost, he explains there's a set charge from the airport. I think he charged me $65. I find out later it was $20 more than a cab I would have gotten from standing in line and technically he acting out of illegal intents. I'm just happy to be alive.

More recently, my experiences have been a bit less chaotic and I've just met some interesting people. One cab driver who seriously is the doppelganger of Darius Rucker, so much so that the cabbie even remarks that he used to be Darius's caddy and they played a trick at the event by switching places and no one even knew. Who knows if that's true, but I'd like to think it is because now I'm that much closer to the true Darius Rucker.

On the last trip I learned all about Ethiopia. Did you know it really doesn't get that hot there? Maybe 90s, and it's a dry heat. Nothing like the midwest.

I also had cab driver who was a professional Soccer player in Iran and Greece, he must have been 60 so I assume this was many years ago. He moved to Oklahoma to play professional soccer in the US but he didn't realize at the time that you make no money in the States at that profession so now he's a cab driver. But he speaks 6 languages, has a memory as sharp as steel, and has a granddaughter who pokes him with an umbrella.

Ahhh, to be a cab driver, what stories would I tell?

Feb 27 2008

A guy at work today asked me why I never let him open the door for me. I hadn't really thought that much about it but there often is an awkward moment at doors when I'm walking with other people. I told him it had something to do with wanting to be self-reliant and it wasn't personal. Just cuz I'm a girl doesn't make me entitled to door openers.


This morning I just felt like celebrating freedom and independence. It's amazing when you hit a stride where you feel like you've caught wind. I started riding my bike again and remembered how much I love it. I went 10 miles on Saturday and 10 miles last night. Rode down to Zipps at Camelback & Miller, ate a burger, drank a beer, and rode home. It was beautiful out and I had complete freewill to do whatever I wanted.
I was somewhat immobilized in alot of ways the past few years. I felt like my ex was weighing me down, then I broke that off and too quickly caught wind, made some wrong choices and felt immobilized by fear of doing something wrong and feeling that alone again. I retrained myself on responsible drinking and decisions and now I feel like I've put that behind me. In Dec right before I broke my foot, I was feeling great... I had put alot of effort into retraining myself and felt like I was on the verge of getting it right-- I was in the best shape of my life, had realized that I could look pretty and feel good about myself, and I felt good about my position in my career. Work is one place that I have confidence... I tend to do a good job cuz I work hard. So anyway... when I broke my foot I felt like I had lost both my legs. The wind slowed to standstill and I was afraid I was going to lose everything I had been working for and I started to feel majorly insecure.

Today I woke up and I was happy. I feel like I've gotten my legs back and I've caught wind again. Just a few days ago I made the decision to keep renting, which somehow gives me relief because I can still dream that I could quit my job whenever I want and run off to a faraway land. But ya know, no matter how self-reliant and happy I am, I am always in need of good friends and people to share my life with. The ideal situation is to be happy with other happy people. Not happy and alone or unhappy alone or even unhappy with other people.

What am I doing with this blog?

Stories of Sorts was created back in 2006 with an original vision to bring back stories from different points in my life through my journals. But as a result of lacking focus from yours truly I rarely posted to the blog.  I intend to get this site back on its original path here shortly, but I will leave most of the past stuff up here as it is part of my history.

To give a bit of background into the past 3 years of sketchy posting, I started the blog six months into a newly single life, living on my own in a state where I had no friends or family.  I joined match.com and meetup.com to try to meet some people with which I identified.  Some of the past posts chronicle a few of those stories.  However, in 2008 I met someone truly special and I am in one of the happiest places I've ever been with a relationship.  So my horrible dating stories are hopefully history.  I might throw in a few from the past as I do still wonder how I finally ended up with a good one and it's not a bad idea to humble yourself from time to time by remembering the less than great times. You learn alot in retrospect.

I'm a thinker by nature so this blog, when I write in the present, may ponder many of the questions and connections I wade through day to day.