Cablog

Brassy

Well that was one of the hardest weekends I’ve ever done, primarily due to the incessant rain rather than passenger issues. Any more rain and we’ll be building Arks.

The atrocious weather demanded 100% concentration for the full shifts necessitating many more breaks than usual in order to stay alert. This resulted in extended finishing times – 4am this morning and 5am Sunday.  

Still, I couldn’t jag a decent blog tale though to be honest, didn’t try that hard such were the demanding road conditions. One slip could mean a six month license suspension.

A recurring passenger theme of late is the number of young women openly talking in mixed company about getting laid. I don’t know if it’s the drink or drugs but boy, there’s some hungry gals in this town. And it’s not about love or romance but straight-out plumbing.

At the same time there were heaps of eligible blokes this weekend catching cabs to high-class brothels prepared to pay up to $500 for the same service. One admitted to spending all day drinking booze and browsing online porn only to develop cabin fever of the Tiger Woods variety. Another fella joked how after almost choking on two Viagras he’d gotten a stiff neck. Boom-boom.

A sixteen year old girl from the Central Coast first climbed in the back seat then immediately requested, "Do you mind if I sit in the front with you?" This momentarily spooked me and my first instinct was to trigger the record button on the phone before remembering a recent undertaking given to the authorities. O for continuous camera surveillance like that in bus and trains. 

Yet I need not have worried for she was just being naive in that country way displayed by kids on a visit to the big smoke. “It doesn’t feel right back there,” she chirped and proceeded to report on her provincial world.

One might be surprised, or not, on the amount of drug dealing at her school involving ‘mainly speed, eccies and weed’. And cigarette smoking is pretty much commonplace in the playground. Times certainly have changed in schools from the swinging sixties.

Speaking of the new order brings to mind another wide-eyed, Wollongong kid recently heading into town with mates. Upon spotting some hot girls walking along Oxford Street he wound down the window and sledged them. Instead of the old style, ‘Hey, show us ya tits’, it was “Hey, show us where ya daddy touched ya!”. Clearly an appalling remark.

Speaking of goats, here's two in Kings Cross yesterday.

Cabbie assaulted

It seems that every other day we hear reports of violence against Indians living in Australia. Whilst the majority of attacks occur in Victoria, with a few in Queensland, Sydney has also seen attacks on Indians.

Now the censored police and media reports of the Victorian assaults has led to Australian cricketers in India being threatened by local terrorists. This is lamentable because many of the attacks there are being committed by ethnic groups other than cricket-loving whites.

Around midnight on Monday night I came across the aftermath of an assault on a cabbie outside a Sri Lankan diner in Surry Hills, heavily patronised by South Asian drivers. A handful of cabbies were being interviewed by police with some giving statements of the incident.

As was related to me a passing chef requested a cigarette from a cabbie. When he refused the chef allegedly racially abused the cabbie and punched him in the face.

A scuffle must have ensued as there was a cook's uniform and takeaway containers of food strewn across the pavement. After which a number of cabbies chased and apprehended the chef whilst the police were called.

The commotion attracted a group of nearby restaurant dinners, two middle-aged white couples who thinking the cook was being attacked attempted to free him. Apparently this led to a further stink.

Anyway the police arrived very quickly and arrested the assailant. The victim was carted off to hospital for further treatment. The view amongst the cabbies was that the cook was off his face on drugs, 'most probably ice', to have reacted so violently.

One of the drivers urged me to report the story on Cablog, something I’m happy to do as there has been no mention of the assault in the major press or police media release.  

NB: The attacker’s ethnicity is not noted purely because I didn’t think to ask and wasn’t told. Given the alleged vilification I automatically presumed he was white.

Beat-up

Sorry, dear readers, but this beat-up is the best report on offer today.

Oh, plus another beat-up involving a recent arrest in downtown Sydney.

Final beat-up is found in a colourful cabbie's submission to the NSW taxi inquiry, where he managed to include Charles Manson and Sharon Tate!? Please, don't ask.

Australia Day

Early this morning a drunken passenger remarked, “Australia Day? I don’t even know what it is we’re actually celebrating.” To which his mate replied, “Doesn’t matter, we’re sure as hell are going to start it off with a bang, eh?” And they both laughed in anticipation.

 

Thirty minutes later their mood had turned sour upon the realisation that a bloke from the pub whom they’d given $400 for “party supplies”, had duly disappeared. Then I was laughing at the extra $40 waiting time charge.

 

Still, on departure they wished me a Happy Australia Day.

 

Whilst they were of Anglo heritage this salutation was extended by various nationalities last night, including non-citizens. At dinner the Turkish proprietors wished me a Happy Australia Day, as did two female baristas during the shift, an Argentinian and a Columbian.

 

At the end of the night another greeting came from a young Indian student at my local service station. Due to my usual weariness after a long shift I’ve never interacted with him, other than to pay for the gas and request a receipt.

 

Yet last night he was all smiles and handing over the change he heartily wished me a Happy Australia Day. After I returned the wishes we had a brief exchange regarding my heritage.

 

One interesting passenger during the afternoon was an ABC TV producer on Message Stick, heading  to Coffs Harbour. He was part indigenous and carried a didgeridoo for a performance today at the Saltwater Freshwater Festival, a family day of Aboriginal culture, food and games.

 

In recent years there has been alternative indigenous celebrations held on January 26 called Invasion Day. No ambiguity there as aborigines and supporters seek to highlight what they regard as a black-armband day.

 

Heading home I tuned into overnight talkback radio which many consider ratbag radio. At times, however, the program presents some informative content, like this morning.

 

This was the instructions issued by King George III to Governor Phillip for establishing the first white settlement. Founding principles which contrast with the view that white settlers were merely marauding invaders with little regard for the indigenous...

 

You are to endeavour by every possible means to open an Intercourse with the Natives and to conciliate their affections, enjoining all Our Subjects to live in amity and kindness with them.

 

And if any of Our Subjects shall wantonly destroy them, or give them any unnecessary Interruption in the exercise of their their several occupations, it is our Will and Pleasure that you do cause such offenders to be brought to punishment according to the degree of the Offence.

 

These laudable intentions of the Crown towards the aborigines are therefore one thing worth celebrating on this day. Something I could have explained to my aforementioned passengers, puzzled by Australia Day whilst awaiting their gram of coke.

 

Happy Australia Day to all.

Survival

At the Port Macquarie cinema last night I saw a spectacular comedy. And judging by the departing crowd of family holidaymakers, they thought so too.

My agreement to see Avatar was based on the condition I could cheer for the Marines. Well, someone’s got to resist Hollywood’s favourite sport of military bashing.

On Monday night I collected a young military serviceman a long way from base and short of funds. After he accepted my estimate of the fare I asked why he was low on cash. Surely, I thought, the Government pays our forces enough to catch a cab home.

"Well, it’s just that I’ve got heaps of debt,” he explained. “I’m only eighteen and we don’t make that much. Plus the fact that I’m paying off my car and I’ve lost my license, twice, doesn’t help.”

With that he proudly showed me a phone image of a new Holden Commodore which he'd tricked up. I said, “Mate, no wonder you’re in trouble with the cops, that’s a rocket.” Yet given he was only on green P’s the loss of license is automatic after accumulating seven points.

He told how his father was all gung-ho when he bought the car. “But now that I’ve lost my license,” he lamented, “he reckons I’m a real dickhead. I know I done wrong and I feel shithouse about that. But I wasn’t driving like an idiot or anything. I’m not a piss-head and I don’t do bongs, I just love my car.”

I told him not to beat himself up because high powered cars need lots of experience to handle and he’d be better off selling it. Honestly, though, I felt like bagging the father for supporting his purchase of the car in the first place, but that's not the kid's fault.

Let's hope he gets enough experience driving the beast to avoid becoming a road statistic.

Argh!!

All road users have their (un)favourite Argh! moments in traffic. Last night I exchanged a few of those moments with a female passenger.

After a pleasant day at the beach followed by dinner at her boyfriend’s joint, she was in a relaxed and friendly mood...until we arrived in Newtown.

Joining the King Street Crawl her mood quickly vanished at the antics of the vehicle in front. It was failing to stay on the pace, slowing for every footpath gathering by inexplicably drifting towards the kerb lane, as if to stop. It would then squirt back into line causing me to brake hard.

"Bloody rubberneckers!” she cried, gesticulating angrily in their direction. “If you want to sight-see, park the car and get out,” she yelled. “Don’t stuff-up the rest of us.” Then collecting herself she apologised, “Sorry, but those people are my pet hate.”

I laughed and advised her never to drive a cab. “You’ll have a new pet hate, every other week.” Welcoming the distraction she inquired about my pet hates and one quickly sprang to mind.

“Lately it’s been those cyclists who come up alongside you at traffic lights and position their bike directly in front of a headlight, almost touching the bumper."

I explained how the most arrogant riders will actually turn and make eye contact, as if to say, ‘You’re a heavy metal 'cager' and I’m an unprotected lightweight. So you’d better not hit me, even though I’ve put myself in harm’s way’!?

It reminds one of the aggressive posturing recently employed by the Ady Gil in the Southern Ocean, which has had me wondering: are the operators of that sunken boat also militant cyclists?

"Let me guess,” my passenger suggested, “the inner west?” Uh huh.

The vehicle in front finally decided to stop and slowly floated off-line with no indication of their intention. “That’s another of my pet hates,” she fulminated, “people who turn without using their blinker. Ever heard of a blinker?” she yelled as we passed.

Her frustration had me reflecting on how cabbies either learn to live with such selfish road behaviour or quit.

Immediately I became aware that the next vehicle ahead was surging. “Here’s another pet hate,” I warned. “Text-surgers.” These were vehicles which could not hold the pace, at any speed, for no apparent reason. If it was an unaccompanied driver then most likely they were text messaging.

After confirming the prevailing speed the driver looks away to enter text characters on the phone. Thence checking the traffic realise they have fallen a few car lengths off the pace and accelerate to catch up. And the surge repeats.

Approaching the Alice Street intersection I sensed our green light was ‘hot’ and about to change. “Watch this,” I announced.

Sure enough, the lights turned amber and the surging vehicle, now fallen two lengths behind, suddenly sped-up through the intersection leaving us trapped at a red light we should have made.

“Aaarghh!!!" she exploded. "Another pet hate.” That made two of us.

Sound familiar? Readers are welcome to nominate their (un)favourite Argh! moments in traffic.

Contentious

The well-regarded media and marketing blog, Mumbrella has questioned my use of certain passenger recordings, in relation to privacy. These have been published on five occasions, all in the past twelve months.

Whilst the tapes were primarily the result of concerns over passenger behaviour, rather than gratuitously captured for blogging purposes, I concede it's a grey area. So I’ve decided to pull this content from the public domain until obtaining a definitive legal clearance.

Furthermore there is also a brand and a trademark to consider, especially since Cablog has now accepted advertising.

And it was branding and marketing which I discussed in the cab last week with a senior McDonalds staffer. I inquired about a contentious rural billboard and showed him an image recently sent to my phone.

First he exploded in laughter and insisted he’d never seen it before, then explained how McDonalds have a standard template which is uniform across all their advertising mediums. Hence it’s continued use.

Yet, curiously, the previous version of this billboard was less conspicuous than the current adaption.

You've gotta laugh.

Colourful

A cop, a cyclist, a scooter and a cab in Surrey Hills this week

Cruel

Once I lost my wallet after leaving it on the counter of a quiet suburban tobacconist. Returning within five minutes and 100% certain of it’s location, I was confronted by a totally unsympathetic proprietor. No, he hadn’t seen the wallet and countered my incredulousness with a stare of utter disdain,...

iPhone bonus

When iPhones started appearing in the cab I was somewhat ambivalent about the device. If it wasn’t the annoying keypad clicking-in fact, they only have a virtual keyboard so the noisy contact is just for show-it was the high-speed access to Google Maps, allowing savvy passengers to monitor my navigation...