Cablog

Disastrous

The Idlers is a delightful ABC radio program reporting on travellers doing the Big Lap. Whenever they are asked which part of Australia impressed the most, they invariably nominate The Kimberley in Western Australia

However it’s a totally different story for that regions indigenous population. A people who have, once again, made the news for all the wrong reasons,

AN absence of leadership in the delivery of Aboriginal services in Western Australia's Kimberley region contributed to "disastrous" living conditions and high suicide rates, the state coroner has found.

Whenever this periodic tale of woe resurfaces I’m reminded of a previous passenger encounter...

A middle-aged female boarded the cab complaining how ‘f***ed’ Sydney was, and how she couldn't wait to return to the Kimberley where she worked with 'Kooris' as a nurse for the Area Health Service.

This was around 2001 when the Daily Telegraph had just published a horrifying front page pictorial of numerous aboriginal women who had been intentionally disfigured by their men. They did this to discourage other suitors to their women.

After mentioning this I asked the nurse, “What's the talk amongst your colleagues when patients present with such disfigurements?” Much to my surprise she airily dismissed the query, “Oh, there's a certain inevitability about it”.

I then suggested that, as a woman, she would have some natural empathy for her sisters and their defenceless position. “Oh no, one can't get involved in Koori business - it's a cultural thing.”

Queens(2)

Sunday's queen parade shot from the North Shore by Rainer the Cabbie (images enlarge)

Queens

Last night was huge in Sydney and best explained here, plus this amusing quote, 

The gay crowd at Mrs Macquaries Chair cheered the ladies loudly. As a taxi driver explained, that's the thing about queens and Sydney. "They're a bit like Bondi buses. If you miss one, there'll always be another one along in a few minutes."

Thanks to the Harbour party and ship gawkers I managed to avoid the cricket and football crowds and their traffic jams. All in all a great Sunday night for taxi work.

Rescued

Every now and then a passenger will ask to use my phone, usually citing a flat battery. This I always refuse, after a female junkie once tricked me by using the phone to organise a heroin deal. Last night, however, I agreed to a phone request.

A thirty-something fella boarded the cab in the inner city and asked for Newtown shopping centre. He then made a phone call. In a softly persuasive tone he said, ”Hello, Kate? Are you okay?...what have you been doing?...Kate?....can you hear me?...Kate?....Katie!?... where are you?....are you at the salon?....everyone is looking for you....Kate?....Katie!?...”

Kate was either reluctant to talk to him or ‘out to lunch’, and drifted off the line.

The passenger leaned forward and addressed me. “Mate, have you got a phone?” The phone was sitting in a cradle in plain view. When I hesitated he explained, “My wife is sick and I need you to dial a number. If I hear it ring in the background I’ll know she’s at the shop.”

This sounded genuine enough plus his use of ‘wife’ was somehow more persuasive than ‘girlfriend’ or ‘friend’. I agreed. After punching in the number we waited as he called her back on his phone. She didn’t answer.

“What happened,” I asked, “did she collapse or something?” “I think so,” he replied. “Just stop here, right here thanks.” He flicked me five bucks then quickly crossed the road.

Pulling back into the traffic I glanced across to see a group of people standing outside a closed hair salon. “Open the door!” one called whilst the others gesticulated to a young woman inside the shop. She could barely stand and leaned awkwardly against the wall whilst struggling to reach the door.

Whatever was going on there it seems they reached her just in time.

Cab Sessions

This past week I nearly scored a performing artist for the inaugral Cablog Sessions. However after scampering from Maccas and climbing aboard with a guitar, his first words were, "Thank Christ I'm out of there, mate. The joint was full of niggers and blacks."

Nice, and an instant disqualification from being invited to perform. Ironically, though, the clown left a home made CD in the cab, which may or may not contain his music.

Here is the original cab sessions, The Black Cab Sessions recorded in London taxis,

"A CHALLENGE HAS BEEN LAID DOWN. FORGET CHART POSITIONS, FORGET TICKET SALES, OR BRAND-EXTENDING TOILETRIES OR MYSPACE FRIENDS OR ANY OTHER MEASURE OF SUCCESS. FROM HERE ON IN, IT'S ALL ABOUT HOW WELL YOU CAN ROCK THE BACK OF A CAB."

Thirty plus musicians have been taped to date and I've watched around half. Some favourites are Eugene McGuinness, Emmy the Great and Seasick Steve amongst many accomplished musos. Plus a special mention for the intriguing St Vincent.

(For readers without Quicktime installed the Black Cab Sessions can also be found on YouTube) 

Celebs

Rarely do I recognise celebrities mainly due to the darkness of the cab. However last night I carried two stars, one from the media and the other in theatre.

When the first boarded in daylight I immediately picked him as cartoonist, adventurer and radio broadcaster, Warren Brown who hosts The Weekender, a quirky ABC radio spot on Saturday evenings. I took the opportunity to congratulate him on a recent interview with electronic music composer, Endorphin, regarding his updated soundtrack for the world's first feature film, The Story of the Kelly Gang.

In the cab Brown carried two large drawing sheets with a pencil outline of today's cartoon in the Daily Telegraph. Now, at home, it's neat to see how the artistic process - adding colour and text - transformed the sketch to cruelly lampoon Premier Iemma.

The second celebrity swept out of Star City Hotel early this morning craddling a massive bouquet of flowers and boarded the cab with his Mum. This was actor Paul Capsis of the The Rocky Horror Show which opened last night. Capsis plays the bent butler, Riff Raff.

I told of seeing the first production of Rocky Horror with Reg Livermore at the Valhalla theatre...back in 1974! He then excitedly reported that Richard O'Brien, the original creator of Rocky Horror had joined him onstage for his signature tune.

As the show is two generations old he exhorted me to promote it to all my Gen Y passengers. So if you haven't already, it's well worth catching this unique show.

After paying the fare Capsis apologised for not tipping, then produced a two dollar coin. It wasn't expected, of course, but good on him anyway. For me it was reward enough to briefly share his elation from a successful opening performance.

Escapism

One of my daily pleasures is receiving an email digest of amazing images from Bondi Beach and other surfing spots. They are compiled by Eugene Tan who has built a huge following through his ability to capture first class photos of pure escapism. The Sunday program has produced a video report on Tan's world, Aquabumps. So join the free email club, you'll love it.

Contact

After yesterday’s lamb chop dilemma I’m happy to report no ill effects after thirty hours, so thanks to readers for their prognoses. In particular Rainer’s seems the most likely explanation. Unfortunately, though, I have a new problem pertaining to passenger contact.

Last night I carted home an elderly businessman from the City. Immediately upon boarding he appeared distracted and proceeded to vigorously rub his right hand against the soft leather briefcase on his lap.

At the first red light I happened to glance down just as he briefly regarded his up-turned hand. The palm was totally covered in thickly peeling, dead skin and dissected by angry red crevices. He had a case of acute dermatitis irritating him no end

Years ago when working in the countryside I suffered from a similar, yet much milder condition. At the time a doctor determined, somewhat unconvincingly, that it was a form of petrochemical poisoning. It would arrive periodically by blistering lightly before peeling, thence disappear after a week or two. These days I rarely experience it.

Anyhow we fell into an absorbing rap session about the US Primaries and the Clintons' reckless flirting with race issues. So engrossing was the discussion that by journey’s end he warmly thanked me and spontaneously thrust out his hand for a parting handshake.

Yet I couldn't refuse this friendly gesture and grasped his proffered hand, despite some reluctance to make contact with the dermatitis. Now I’m wondering if it’s contagious and, if so, to what degree of severity.

Phew, the perils of congeniality.

Maintenance

Last night I was fortunate enough to collect the last fare out of the Airport. Usually after deciding to respond to a broadcast for late arrivals it ends badly. Seemingly, a million taxis will high-tail it from the City only to find empty terminals full of frustrated cabbies.

Even better than jagging-the last fare out of Mascot (there’s a song in that phrase) was hearing the passenger request a sixty dollar job, on an otherwise disastrous shift.

However the passenger was extremely irritated and needed some careful maintenance in order to settle him down. His fiancée had left their car in the long-term car park but after failing to locate it he gave up and returned to the cab rank. It didn’t matter, anyway, as he’d forgotten to get the key from her.

Needless to say they'd had some frank and honest exchanges over the phone and calls were abruptly terminated. All round it was a nightmare end to a difficult weekend away to meet her parents for the first time.

After explaining how the whole exercise had him reassessing whether she was the right girl to marry, he agreed that such tests upon a relationship reveal true character and the importance of communication, rather than resorting to his old habit of sulking. Plus he loved his fiancée dearly and I reassured him that this would certainly help solve their relationship hurdles. 

Consequently, by the time we reached the destination he was laughing and relaxed and in a much better disposition than when he first boarded the cab. Not only did he leave a tip but he pulled out a Tupperware container and insisted I take a cold, lamb chop which had been barbequed that afternoon in Melbourne.

Despite serious misgivings about health issues I didn't want to offend him so I ate the bloody thing. That was seven hours ago. Now I’m wondering how long it takes for food poisoning to kick in...

Dark art

Early last night I carried a passenger to the Opera House. When I heard she was going to see PJ Harvey I was jealous as Harvey is currently my favourite female musician. Ironically, to this old fart, she looks and sounds a lot like the original rock goddess, Grace Slick. Here’s a couple of Harvey videos; on piano; an oldie; duet with Nick Cave.

Speaking of dark art, a while ago I was invited to contribute some images of roadside memorials to a documentary project, Resting Places. This is presently up for final judging in the Big Sky Documentary Film Festival and reviewed here, with a trailer showing one image at 00:24. Feels kinda neat, actually, given it was taken on my camera/phone.

Now with Tropfest screening this weekend (hit link for past winners) I'm tempted to try a short film shot on the Nokia (example video) for 2009. Just for fun, of course.