Cablog

Mabel

Taxi driving is a cruel game made even crueller by passengers like Mabel. The Mabels’ of the world know their rights and offhandedly employ them at every opportunity, regardless of the impact on their hapless victims.

Yet when it’s explained to them that such thoughtless practises are unfair to hard working cabbies, these Mabels, paid decent money for their undoubted intellect, plead ignorance..!?

Early this morning I waited 50 minutes on point car at a regular rank when finally a familiar face appeared. This was a $55 fare - a pleasant, chatty passenger. There is a God, I mused, watching him sign-out in the lobby. Then Mabel suddenly appeared and beat him through the door.

All the drivers complain about her, wishing she’d just grab the rear cab like other considerate, short-fare colleagues, but what can we do. She’s entitled to plonk herself down in whatever cab suits her and always takes the first cab.

So when she made a beeline for my back door, I dejectedly climbed into the driver’s seat knowing I’d just lost $50, or five hours wages on a dead Sunday night. I decided it was time for a quiet chat.

Pulling away I quipped, “Gees, that chap heading to Mona Vale was coming but you beat him by one second!” Silence. “You know," I continued, "there’s another girl who lives around the corner, like you, and she always takes the last taxi.” More silence. She knew exactly what I was saying.

Precisely three minutes and $5.65 later we stopped outside her apartment tower. Although she tipped a couple of extra bucks for the short fare, I resolved to explain myself further, stating, “I only pointed that out before because I’ve just waited 50 minutes for a fare.”

This brought an immediate curt response. “Listen, I know you people have a hard job but don’t expect me to walk home at this time of night.” She was deliberately avoiding the issue. “I’m not suggesting that,” I told her. “All I’m saying is that we’d prefer you took the last cab instead of the first cab. It’s a simple consideration, that’s all.”

Yet no way would she accept being chided for her laziness by some bum cab driver. Leaning forward she growled, “Hey, don’t take your problems out on the passengers, okay?”, then quickly exited the cab. It was a pretty lame response and I braced myself for the inevitable door slam.

Fortunately, however, I’m happy to report that there are very few passengers like Mabel. Thankfully.

Cabpoll 08

On Friday afternoon I once again chatted with James Morrow about the US Presidential campaign. At that time the situation with the first Debate between McCain and Obama was fluid and it was unclear whether McCain would dog it or not.

Thus Part A of our chat covers the political machinations at that point and the relative debating strengths of each candidate, subsequently displayed in yesterday's Debate.

Part B addresses perceived bias by the media (shock, horror!) and those questions being selectively omitted by the ever-scrutinizing journos, re Palin, Obama and Biden.

One issue of concern is how to interpret the wildly swinging polls coming out of America. James suggested realclearpolitics.com as a comprehensive poll in that they aggregate 8 to 10 big polls coming from media and other dedicated sources. This way they are able to filter out 'noise' and statistical anomalies to give a fairly reliable indication of margins.

Finally in Part C I asked James about any recently emerging trends and/or stuff-ups escaping attention in the campaign...

Test

 

Madness

On Wednesday evening the radio reported on contemporary artist Damian Hirst earning $260m in the last eighteen hours, auctioning pieces like this to...well, idiots.

I shook my head in disbelief and remarked to my passenger, a city businessman, “Why am I thinking-investment bankers and cocaine?” He laughed, “Probably because they both involve such an incredible rush.”

This probably explains the sort of motivation for paying over $20m for a pickled cow,

Charles Thomson, founder of the The Stuckist art movement, which promotes art with a meaning, said Hirst was not art but a "designer label. Just using an object like a dead animal is capable of very little meaning," he said. "He is not selling art. It's a form of madness."

The frenzied spending of money, madness, whether gambled on ridiculously risky financial products or incredibly indulgent ‘art’, can surely be attributed to drugs. In the case of investment bankers that drug would be cocaine, for those with too much money.

Courage

Jessica's ordeal,

It's the worst thing you can imagine happening to a girl catching a cab alone, late at night - and it happened to me. Last November, when I was 18, I was raped by the taxi driver I had trusted to take me home.

Further reading.

Easy

The bridal party board the cruise boat on Sunday for a twilight reception on the harbour.

Night falls and a water taxi collects the happy couple. At the same time the bride learns that their luggage has been sent to the wrong hotel, hence this last photo (click image) of her working the phone as they depart. Thank God for mobile phones and taxis. Easy.

Edgy

Saturday night was real edgy. It seemed like every second person was hard-wired to arc up at the slightest crack, peculiar look or dodgy manoeuver.

A tough lesbian had to be restrained by her girlfriends from attacking me. “I don’t like his attitude,” she fumed. “He’s a footballer meathead.”  “Lady, I’m doing you a favour,” I responded, “we're going the shortest route.” I wondered whether she was on ice or it was just my new haircut.

When making a late turn into gridlocked traffic on Crown Street a motorist attempted a blocking move, then yelled, “What the f___ you think you’re doing!?” So I yelled back, “I’m a taxi driver, whada you expect!?”, then drove around him.

It was one thing after another and finally I called a time-out for coffee, where I complained to the gay barista, “Someone just called me a f_____ poofter.” He slapped both hands on the counter and leaning forward sneered, “That you should be so lucky.”

Later, cabbies received a radio warning regarding the Cronulla Sharks footy match,

DON’T GO TO SHARK PARK. YOUTHS ARE THROWING ROCKS AND BOTTLES AT CABS.

And their team won!? That’s the full moon for you. 

Cabpoll 08

Yesterday afternoon I carried well-regarded journalist and political commentator, James Morrow, after he'd participated in a regular Sky News segment, Agenda PM, hosted by David Speers.

Thus I took the opportunity to launch CABPOLL O8 covering the US presidential campaign, hopefully on a regular basis by elicting comment from the many American expatriates living and working in Sydney. We started the chat by acknowledging 9/11...

Next we dealt with Sarah Palin who, to my mind, is rapidly approaching saturation point for voters and counter-productivity. James remarked that one thing 9/11 did was throw foreign policy into stark relief and he noted Palin's first interview broadcast overnight with ABC's Charlie Gibson. How on issues such as Pakistan, Georgia and the NATO membership her positions were not that disimiliar to the Obama/Biden camp. He was of the view that rather than being a foreign policy flake she is a 'quick-study' and is 'skilled in the art of politicking'. Granted, in the smaller theatre of Alaska but the tradecraft is similiar and so she's acquitting herself very well against a lot of people who are trying to tear her down...

Finally to the Democrats with Obama, Biden and Billary. If there is one thing they can rejoice over, re the nomination of Sarah Palin, it's that Obama has avoided the real danger of over-exposure and that swinging voters would be well over him by polling day, due to their torturous drawn-out campaign. At least the US doesn't suffer snap elections, as in Australia where a canny Prime Minister will announce a truncated campaign lasting thirty-eight seconds with voting to commence in two minutes flat, ready or not...

Haircut

After some local pressure last Friday I bit the bullet and had my locks shorn off, start of spring and all that. Instead, winter returned for a final fling and it absolutely bucketed down for the next two days. Typical.

Whilst sitting in the chair at the hairdresser I attempted to record the moment with a (decidedly dodgy) self-portrait. Then I had a better idea...

Love

During dinner last Sunday I was joined by a taxi union organiser. First we discussed the long delay in bringing the accused murderer of cabbie, Robert Woodger, to trial. News of this received (some) press last week.

Inevitably the conversation turned to union matters and, once again, he invited me to join, blah, blah. This was my cue to head back to work. Rising from the table I told him, “Mate, it’s hard to take the union seriously whilst you have a media representative who proudly wears a T-shirt, I Love Osama."

Being a staunch union man and impervious to argument he had a ready retort. “So what, how about those churchs' with the billboard, Jesus Loves Osama ?”

All I could do was laugh and walk away, once again.

UPDATE: Martin, King of New York Hacks, posts a moving 911 pictorial of Ground Zero, then and now. Do visit this special tribute.