Cablog

Wet fish

Late at night outside a western suburbs hotel two blokes climbed in, too pissed to drive home. They were both managers, one senior to the other and had been having a few ‘staffies’ after work.

For one fella it was the old story of someone who rarely caught taxis insisting I take the rat-run, at two in the morning! At one point he goaded me to jump a red light. “C’mon, I go this way all the time and this light takes forever. Just go!”

“Why would I risk my licence?” I queried. “Mate,” he barked, “there’s never any cops around here...(in the distance I spotted the familiar outline of a patrol car turn towards us)...if you get caught I’ll pay the penalty.” Surrrreee. Just as the police car reached the intersection I challenged him, “Say what..?”

Whilst his mate cracked-up, the smart arse quickly changed the subject to dump on an errant staff member, which soon turned into a humiliating lecture...

Grateful

A Cablog reader writes from the UK:

Hello Adrian,

I hope you will be writing your blog again soon because I want to say thank you to the kindest cabbie in Sydney, although I don't know his name. He's the cab driver who found my son's mobile left in the back of his cab, and made a monumental effort to return it.

This happened Saturday night 24th Jan/Sunday 25th jan. I think the driver transported my son (Tom) from Bondi to ? The reason I want to tell everyone about this act of kindness is that I was phoning from the UK; and when I rang, expecting to speak to my son, discovered I was talking to somebody other than him.

I imagined the very worst, especially since I know that, as Tom is backpacking, he has no proper place to stay yet, no proper job, and he must be fast running out of money. To discover he'd lost his mobile too was the last straw for me. The poor cabdriver was upset to hear me having hysterics, and he tried so hard to be reassuring.

The long and the short of it is that, thanks to the cab driver, Tom and his phone were togther by 11 pm Sunday evening, some five or six hours after I'd called. I am very grateful. I hope the cab driver reads your blog and reads this thank-you letter.

Best wishes,

Susan.

Reminds me of the time I was managing a backpacker hostel in Mission Beach when a fella rang late at night from London, looking for his lost girlfriend. I rushed out of my apartment to check the guest registration book when I stepped on a brown snake crossing the garden path. Call me lucky, it missed!

I turned around to see it coiling back on itself before it took off and hid in the office wall cavity. "Mate," I told the caller, "I'll have to ring you back after I first get rid of a bloody snake." Don't think he actually believed me.

In short

A passenger last night from the short film festival, Tropfest told of the winner’s story of a funny, uplifting character with Downs Syndrome. The young actor, who also has Downs Syndrome attempts to relax his brother regarding his affliction.

My only contact in the cab with a Downs sufferer also involved a brother. At the time I omitted the fact that my passenger was returning from his brother’s wedding, alone, due to his Mum having stayed at home. She didn’t like the bride, he'd said, like it was no big deal.

Earlier in the shift I ran into an old acquaintance, also a cabbie. When I inquired how the downturn was affecting his earnings, he scoffed, “Mate, just go to any third world country and you’ll feel lucky here”. I couldn’t argue with that and proceeded to waste a half hour chatting, in spite of it being a busy period. However to recover the lost time necessitated working an extra hour, until 4am.

Around 3am a young fella nervously walked the line of cabs outside Star City Casino, checking each driver. I knew he would stop at mine because he was a white, Anglo guy. That’s just the way it is.

“Mate,” he said, “I’m supposed to meet some friends here but I can’t find them. I’ll give you five bucks to use your phone.” He was wasted, agitated and clutching a water bottle. Probably on the disco bikkies, I reasoned and so gave him the brush-off. “Last time I lent someone my phone,” I explained, “they used it to organise a heroin deal.” He must have thought I was stupid.

Yet I needed to recover a few dollars after being too smart by half with a couple of women from the Golden Sheaf hotel in Double Bay. On closing time I allowed them to board without realising they had jumped a nearby queue being supervised by security. This lapse of foresight irritated me.

At their destination in Ultimo they asked if I would return in one hour to take them home to Vaucluse. “Ahh, nah. I don’t actually like it out there.” Only after driving away I realised I’d forgotten to levy the $4 tunnel toll. Doh! I was tired, jaded. Time for bed.

Talent

This week a radio broadcaster quoted Bob Dylan: “A man is successful when he gets up in the morning and does exactly what he wants to do.” Or something to that effect.

At the time I thought this ironic as an old friend knew Dylan, due to her then husband being one of Dylan’s entertainment attorneys. Americans, apparently, have attorneys rather than lawyers. Anyway, she told of attending a meeting between the two in a roadside diner to lockdown a tour, outlined on the back of a menu.

Upon signing the draft Dylan held onto the attorney’s pen and asked if he could keep it. Of course the request was granted. When he rose and leant over to kiss my friend goodbye, his jacket fell open to reveal an inside pocket bulging with pens. Back then, she claimed, Dylan was living in a trailer with Doberman dogs. Strange success.

All this got me thinking about creativity, how the process works for artists and how it gels with regular life. Or not. Last month I touched on this, amongst a host of music related subjects with one of Australia’s most talented, singer-songwriters...

Paradise

What got the creative juices flowing again to enable my return to blogging has been producing a video application for The Best Job in the World. When I first saw the advertisement in the New Year I thought, mate, that's for me. Then just as quickly admitted, why would they choose a 55-year-old taxi driver? Hilarious!

However after further consideration and prompting from others I thought, why not? For a highly paid blogging job on the Great Barrier Reef - bugger it, I'd do it for free - one must have a go. Even though some 1500 applications are being received each day.

Finally I got the piece shot, edited and mixed on the 'ol camera/phone and uploaded. Then realised that not only had the compression failed but there was also a copyright issue involving four seconds of music. So I cleaned it up, re-submitted and now both videos have been posted ! No matter, I have two chances.

Feel free to view my application and give it a rating. You may just help this old fart win a wild Card finalist berth to a week on Hamilton Island. Also check out some of the varied and often superb applicants from around the world.

Ladette

This week saw the commencement of the Aussie version of Ladette to Lady. Observing this taxi advertisement reminded me of an passenger encounter one week after New Year.

A young, drunken Eastern Suburbs woman decided that I shouldn't ignore her raucous conduct and, in order to gain my attention, proceeded to slap my arm and flick her hand across my eyes. So when I finally reacted with, "Lady, behave yourself. You've got no class," she duly exploded...

Impressed

Saturday night was jumping in Sydney. The combination of Valentines Day and ‘Wet’ Vibrations meant endless work from go to whoa. Add constant rain to the mix and cabbies really earned their money, especially with departing concert-goers taking big risks with anxious traffic, badly handicapped by rain and poor visibility.

I had been working this crowd very selectively, aware there was a heightened chance of many wasted, bedraggled walkers seeking a free ride to escape the weather. Finally, along Bondi Road I dropped my guard and took pity on a young fella standing alone looking for a rare vacant cab.

When he chose the back seat and elected to leave his hoodie in place, hunching against the door to avoid the security camera, it was obvious he was going to run...

With you

That a fire can move with such frightening speed and alloy-melting heat is unimaginable to this city dweller. My thoughts and prayers are with all those affected by this catastrophic event. Hang in there, Vics, we're all with you.