Cablog

Changes

The time has come for a major New Year’s resolution.

Cablog is now four years old and was first launched in December 2003. So at this time it's appropriate to take stock and reappraise the blogging caper. Cablog has always been a hobby and labour of love which has attained a niche in the blogsphere, albeit for moderate success.

However I’ve decided to quit the daily postings, for a variety of reasons, not the least being my neglected fitness, earnings and sleep. It has come to a point where I need an extended break from the routine before deciding how to develop Cablog in 2008.

Needless to say the lack of financial incentive in blogging is a large determining factor. This was borne out whilst Cabpolling for ninemsn during the recent Federal elections, when I happily accepted reduced taxi wages for paid media content.

The good news is that Cablog will continue in some capacity, though I won’t be posting on a regular basis. But next month I expect to receive final trademark registration for ‘Cablog’ and ‘Cabpoll’, unique brands worth retaining and protecting, so I'll be around.

Also I feel now that my writing/blogging should be taken to the next level, though I'm uncertain what that is exactly. One consideration is formal studies. Many readers have suggested a book of cab stories but I’m far from convinced that such books really work, other than as a collection of interesting vignettes.

The fact that my stories have already been published online and in magazines is reward enough and I'm reluctant to re-work them just to have them appear in book form. Or maybe I'm just too tired to think about such a monumental task.

If there is a book in me then it’s more likely to be a fiction novel, drawing upon life experiences beyond taxi driving.

You may be interested in some statistics from four years of blogging – 450 passenger stories; 40 Cabpoll reports; 90 moblogs; hundreds of images and a handful of mini 'movies' (phew). Plus other cab related material.

However if I remember any Cablog highlights, aside from the consistent appreciation and encouragement from readers, one post stands out. This was during the Federal election when I produced my first multimedia report. As a blogger it’s this fledgling medium which really appeals and is something I wish to perfect. Call me a digital media geek.

Finally, any appraisal of the last four years would be deficient without recognising my readers, many of whom have been with me from the start. Without your support and interest Cablog would not have survived, nor continue to survive into the future.

Thus I sincerely wish you all a wonderful New Year and best wishes for 2008.

Briefly

There is not much to report today...well, not counting the young woman seeking an opinion on her "fashion faux pas" - white knickers under a see-through dress. I told her, "Lady, forget about it, you look a million bucks." Then thoughtfully added, "If you're really worried about it, just take 'em off..." I'm a cabbie, what did she expect !?

Anyway, at the last minute I decided to edit some videos on my phone, including footage of the Harbour Bridge NYE motif under testing. It's a short movie, Dec 07...

Baiting

As a general rule when reporting on passengers I’ll change certain details such as localities and other identifying information. In four years of cablogging it’s extremely rare that a passenger hasn’t deserved anonymity. Here is one of those cases.

Around 1am this morning in the Rocks a bloke wandered across the road from a hotel and hailed me. A big man around thirty years old and of Anglo Aussie stock, he presented as a classic rugby prop forward.

He didn't seem obviously drunk, until he fell into the front seat with little control. Ignoring my greeting he leaned back onto headrest and sighed heavily. So I slowly rolled off, prepared for anything.

“Where to?” I asked. He waited, then slurred nastily, “Where you from?” “Sydney,” I replied. “Where do you want to go?” Again he ignored me. “What’s your heritage?” he snarled, clearly being difficult. “Irish”, I told him, thinking this may well be a very short fare.

He looked across at me and with barely controlled aggression said, “The Irish are the absolute scum of the earth.” I immediately pulled over in front of six waiting cabs outside Jacksons on George. He had lasted all of 100 metres.

Reefing on the handbrake and clearing the meter I told him, “No charge, I can’t help you.” Yet he refused to accept the message and arrogantly shrugged his shoulders. “I’m staying” he said. “Mate, not in this cab you’re not,” I replied. “Maybe the cabs behind will take you but I’m not taking you anywhere.”

First he checked the milling crowd outside the bar before turning on me. “Your ancestors are FUCKIN' SHIT!” he exploded. Obviously he wanted a fight but I stared straight ahead and considered my options.

Instantly I regretted wearing the seatbelt as he was one reaction away from smashing me, from which I had no quick escape. Yet due to the number of pedestrians and cabs around us I knew it was just a matter of remaining impassive and waiting him out.

He had no other choice and he knew it. Slowly opening the door he fired off a vicious parting shot, “I’m just so glad that my English ancestors...(insert the vilest insult you can think of)...your mother.” I waited, expressionless.

It worked and he alighted, wandering over to the bar to bait someone else. Gone, out of my life. So I drove off to Graveyard Barista’s where we laughed about....trolls!

Low

When I stop at Graveyard Barista’s café for a coffee I take the exact money needed from my coin bag – three dollars plus a fifty cent coin for the tip. Then upon ordering I’ll plop the coin into the tip jar and the three dollars onto the counter. It’s an automatic practise enacted a couple times each shift.

However last night when I plonked down my three dollars the barista, Alfonso, said, “Um, actually it’s an extra thirty cents today..” “What..!?” “Sorry,” he explained, “but it’s the public holiday price.” Fair enough, I’d forgotten about the public holiday.

So rather than break a note for the extra thirty cents, or return to the cab for the coins, I simply grabbed thirty cents from the tip jar. How low is that...and at Christmas ?

Lower

An even lower act is the selfishness of residents who (allegedly) poison trees to enhance their views. And the local council is not letting them forget it, after erecting a number of these signs.

Lowest

The above incidents are nothing compared to what can happen in the cab game, where some of the lowest acts occur. Like having a knife put to one's throat.

Early on Christmas Day I spent some time working the Surry Hills and downtown areas. Finally at 2.40am I killed my Vacant light and headed home, down Cleveland Street.

Some thirty minutes later a cabbie on Cleveland Street stopped for two blokes who assaulted and robbed him with a knife. When a reader reported this it left me cold.

Then, around 3am, after driving through deserted Rozelle and Drummoyne on Victoria Road, I came across a rowdy crowd exiting the Bayview Tavern at Gladesville.

Some were running across the road to secure a vacant cab heading into the City, no doubt to have him turn around and head west, a usual occurrence with these patrons.

Normally I stop for this crowd knowing they are generally harmless locals, but this time elected to drive by due to their rowdiness. A driver can immediately sense from hotel patrons' demeanor on a footpath, if they are a risk or not.

In addition to the blokes crossing the road I was distracted by a flooded half-road after a recent downpour. Bleeding off speed and easing around the water, I hit something on the darkened road with a loud bang, scaring the pants off me.

I couldn’t see anything in the rear-view mirror and figured a kid standing at the kerb had tossed a shrub from a planter box (seen here next day) onto the roadway. It was that sort of drunken crowd.

Within minutes a cabbie collected three young fellas there. However something went terribly wrong with the driver now being charged after one of his passengers was run down when they alighted in West Ryde.

The kid is in a critical condition. I hope and pray he makes it.

UPDATE: Knife assailants caught.

Laughs

Some Boxing Day laughs from Brian, the radio room operator at Blanktop Chronicles.

Also some street laughs from Overheard in New York.

And this hilarious video on Guidos, from their mortal enemy, Rob, a New York bouncer.

Feel free to nominate in Comments your favourite humour sites.

Have a great day.

A Vendor

After the madness of the preceding weeks there’s nothing like the relaxed atmosphere of Christmas Eve, heralding the arrival of the festive holidays. To mark the occasion yesterday afternoon was a glorious summer twilight with a comfortable temperature and clear skies.

Already the roads were noticeably quieter with many people having left town for their family retreats. Around the Harbour Bridge at Kirribilli people ambled along the foreshore as a massive ocean liner reversed out of Circular Quay then headed for the open sea. It’s a great time of year to be in Sydney.

At nearby Milson’s Point station I observed a constant flow of locals with plastic shopping bags containing bottles of champagne, gifts and food, possibly. They moved between the station, the hotel and the Kirribilli restaurants to join friends for a relaxed drink before today’s big family day.

Waiting at the cab rank I also observed a bloke selling The Big Issue, a fortnightly current affairs and entertainment magazine dedicated to the homeless, the unemployed and the marginalised. These people are sub-contracted to sell the magazine and receive half of the five dollar cover price. It’s a worthy international initiative underwritten by various organisations and supported by advertising.

After some twenty minutes I noticed the bloke hadn’t sold one magazine to the passing crowd. It wasn’t for the lack of trying for he was discretely attempting to make eye contact, from a respectful distance, rather than directly accosting them. It’s just that they weren’t ‘seeing’ him. So when he finally gave up and headed to the station I called him over.

After I purchased a magazine we chatted for about five minutes. He was a friendly and contented soul aged around forty five years with a big cheery grin revealing missing front teeth. I quizzed him on alternative jobs he’d done like washing windscreens at intersections and car detailing. But selling The Big Issue on street corners was his preferred occupation.

Finally a fare arrived and I had to go. Shaking hands we exchanged Christmas greetings and as I climbed into the cab he said, “Thanks for talking to me, eh.” It was clearly a genuine sentiment.

Driving away I sensed that even if I’d bought twenty magazines our interaction was just as important to him. Indeed, The Big Issue website lists this personal element as an integral part of the vendors’ trade. Best wishes and a wonderful Christmas to them.

Pumped

Last night three trendy, good-looking, young guys hailed me in the city. Trendy, as in hip casual gear, ironic haircuts and attitudes to suit. Climbing aboard, they squealed, “Stonewall, driver, Oxford Street!”, then proceeded to bounce around in their seats, full of beans.

When I stopped for the first red light they chided me, “C’mon, driver, you could have made that light.”

• Me: You want me to break the law?
• Them: You’ve gotta loosen up a little...Live on the wild side.
• Me: Like go to Stonewall?
• Them: (Much laughter)
• Me: Um, you know Stonewall’s a gay bar, right?
• Them: Oh, no!...Don’t tell Mum...Doesn’t matter, we’re poofs.
• Me: No you’re not...
• Them: What?
• Me: You’re not gay; you’re just confused...
• Them: (More laughter)This sounds like an episode of Family Guy...
• Me: One day you’ll all meet nice girls and settle down.
• Them: Yeah, and have three kids...and a MacMansion...don’t forget the white picket fence.
• Me: Or the Commodore...
• Them: Of course, must have a Commodore.

After they alighted and skipped off down Oxford Street, their infectious energy and high spirits reminded me of those male models from the movie, Zoolander.

Which is not to suggest my passengers were as stupid as them, of course. But the thought of that gas-pumping movie scene had me chuckling for the rest of the shift.

Cheers

Well, I guess it’s time to wish all my reader a wonderful festive season. With many readers now finished for the year I trust all have a rewarding and relaxing time with family and friends.

Christmas is not my favourite time of year, being a relief driver and all. Yet with Tuesday a regular day off, this year I’ll be able to celebrate a rare Christmas Day.

After this I launch into a block of six straight nights, twice, over the next few weeks as our other drivers take holidays. This is how I prefer it, though, allowing me to take a vacation in February, after the schools resume.

Finally, if you’re heading out of town please don’t drive after dark, unless you’re a super ‘highway-fit’ driver. If not, the high-speed rampaging trucks will soon having you wishing you’d chosen a daylight run.

Stay safe and enjoy.