I used to drive a taxi/cab. Why? I often ask myself that, it was a shitty job, but it got me through 2 years of university, so it served a purpose. I was telling a few stories from those days to a friend recently and it got me thinking that I should write these stories down before I forget them.
Oh Oh I'm gonna spew!
It's around 7 - 7.30pm on a Friday night, I'm in the city, at the lights outside the Hilton Hotel. I hadn't locked the cab doors, I always lock the doors when I don't have a fare. It's always good to scan a potential fare before you let them in.
But this time I forgot and into the back seat she jumped.
"Jolimont"
"Yeah sure (oh jeez she's fairly pissed - why didn't I lock the doors) but you gotta put ya seatbelt on, ok!"
She fumbles with the belt, it goes on.
She isn't talking at all, always a danger sign with a drunk fare, it means they are trying extremely hard to keep it all together and mostly to not throw up everywhere.
I watch her like a hawk in my rear view mirror. Her hand is now over her mouth, this aint good! Then it happens, vomit starts coming through her fingers and all over her front. Did she actually think she could keep it in with her hand.
Side note: In the 2 years I spent driving the cab I always found that guys never had a problem telling you they were gonna chuck.
"Man, pull over I gotta chuck"
I could hit the kerb in 2 seconds flat every time. Guy opens door, does his business, wipes his mouth, closes door and we're on our way again. Girls NEVER tell you they are gonna spew, NEVER!
So, now I have a silent spewer in the back seat of my car, I do my 2 second routine and I'm out of the cab in a flash, I open her door, unclip her seat belt and hold her head while she empties her stomachs contents onto the footpath. Well at least it isn't going into the cab. That smell never leaves!!
It's about this time that I think about getting her something to clean herself up with, I balance her head so she's still hitting the footpath and not my upholstery, I look up and behind me to scope for something that'll do the job. It's then that I realise exactly where I've stopped the cab!
I'm dead set directly in front of Black Toms restaurant and bar on Hay St, a fairly (at the time) upmarket bar/eatery, and it has almost floor to ceiling windows at the front, exactly where I am and exactly where a bunch of people are seated eating their $40 plate of dhufish. They are far from impressed, not exactly the dinnertime show they were expecting.
Erm, sorry bout that folks!!
You can read the other stories in the series so far by clicking the taxi label below
Comments
Usually I walked there and it would be easier to count the times I didn't have to avoid a sidewalk pizza. Just one was a rarity in itself. If those fancy diners hadn't encountered someone's regurgitated night out getting there, they were sure as hell going to do it walking back to their cars.
Now back to finding the rest of that random pickup story.