On a withered branch
a crow has settled---
autumn nightfall.
Basho (1644-1694)
Autumn is here. Rain falls for hours, soaking the streets and landscapes. Drivers, never heeding the obvious, speed through the rain, and careless, suddenly stopping, having hit a car and now wait for the police and their frowning paper disapproval. Night now encloses the day, saying "summer, you had your fun but now the season is mine." Standing water splashes upon walkers bent against wind and moisture, umbrellas proving scant protection. Northwestern crows (corvus caurinus) caw, caw, speaking to me, and you, asking for something better than bread: cheese, we like cheese, and chicken bones too. Cab business, like the skies, darkens and brightens according to seasonal moods, embracing like afternoon sun breaks then collapsing upon our heads, stormy and contrary and wet, soaking us through garments to the skin, all held captive in the balky moment. Footballs are kicked and fans roar, and breath is held---shall we win, can we win, and why is victory so important? I cannot tell you why. And if I did know, I wouldn't tell you. It not mattering, not mattering.
It is autumn. It is the waning season. We will cozy up and stay warm, sipping warm coffee and green tea. It is autumn. It is October. Just ask the crows. They will tell you. All you have to do is listen. They are talking to you. Listen.
Basho translation from "An Introduction to Haiku" by Harold Henderson, 1958, Doubleday & Co.
Wednesday, October 25, 2017
Thursday, October 19, 2017
A Taxi Quiz: What Do You Think The Answer Is? & My Choice For Seattle Mayor
To me it is obvious, which it should be, when passengers have crossed over the line of both sanity and civility to the point where the ride must be terminated. Of course why would I want to literally take the money out of my pocket, telling the offending passenger you have to go?
The clear answer is I don't want to, instead wanting to continue taking them to their requested destination. And it just isn't about the money either because, despite whatever crazy behavior displayed, I have no desire to inconvenience them, grieving me each time this happens. I do have a very high tolerance for misbehavior but clearly situations arise when there is no alternative to telling the passenger that they need to find some other means of transportation.
I say all this because my oldest sister commented that I was "about to snap," that two recent posted ride profiles showed I was seconds away from emulating Travis Bickle, Robert DeNiro's deranged cabbie in the Martin Scorsese's movie, "Taxi Driver." She does know that in 30 years I have never carried a gun along with me in the cab.
She also made the ill-conceived remark that the aforementioned passengers had done nothing to elicit any response but to take them to where they were going. But in the second case I never truly knew where she wanted to go, and remain suspicious that she herself didn't know. As I said in my post, going home with me wasn't an option. And one should ask, why did she think it was a possibility, having barely said ten words to her?
Responding to my sister's email, I said, "That's funny!" because it is, further commenting that her remark "treated me like I was some stranger, and not her brother" It is also another example of someone thinking they know all about the taxi experience while not understanding it one iota.
I also said that the situation reminded me of our father, someone who failed to recognize anyone for anything but especially focusing his unseeing upon his wife and sons and daughters. Did we even exist, seemingly a mystery marking him to the end of his days upon our planet? Given that, I remain sensitive to being misunderstood, at least expecting people to make the smallest of efforts toward seeing who I might be.
So instead of remaining resentful, I think a quiz is in order, giving you the opportunity to decide just what state of mind the passengers were in when, in the first situation, the woman saying we were proceeding west while going east; and secondly, the second passenger denying she had routed me to the top of Queen Anne Hill, and as I said, inferred she wanted to sleep with me. Crazy and crazy and, of course, insane!
Quiz # 1
Was the woman who refused to to be reasoned with while we headed in the correct direction down East Aloha Street:
1) drunk
2) on drugs
3) experiencing a psychiatric break
4) or all of the above
I say the answer is number 3 because she was instantly agitated, making all attempts toward resolution impossible. My "Hey, don't you see that the street numbers are ascending upward." being completely ignored, finding her fury misplaced and completely unnecessary, with it all adding up to that she appeared to be experiencing some kind of mental disorientation that very likely was psychologically-based.
What was making her "so crazy?" I don't know and as I said in my post, it wasn't my place to make that kind of determination, having left my DSM (Diagnostic & Statistical Manual) at home. Maybe in the future I should keep one beside me, and when called for, flip to the correct page and read the pertinent diagnosis to the passenger. I am sure they would be overjoyed with learning more about themselves, but upon second thought, perhaps not! Why know about yourself when instead it is so much fun being nuts, the proverbial walking and talking fruitcake!
Quiz # 2
The passenger who directed me from Ballard to Queen Anne was clearly "impacted" upon entering the cab. Was she under the influence of:
1) alcohol
2) drugs
3) drug & alcohol combination
4) held emotional or psychological components to her behavior
My choice are clearly numbers 3 and 4 because she was definitely "blitzed" out-of-her-mind on what I don't know. And after she denied she had taken me to 3rd West and West Galer, she tried to direct me back again along the very same route. Did any of this make sense?
Not to me, and not that anyone, especially my sister, might have noticed that I was the one driving the car. I just can't let anyone willy-nilly direct me anywhere they want to minus commonsense. It makes no sense and besides, its dangerous because it I find it very distracting having some lunatic in the backseat telling me where to go. Regular readers might remember when, a few months back, some drunk insisted I drive us into Lake Washington. No, I am not going to do that, 1092 not the best of swimmers.
I hope you enjoyed the quizzes, and since you passed the test, just like I did in 1972 during my battery of pre-induction testing, you are now drafted into the taxi army. Be sure to salute me when I walk by. And I am not just blowing taxi smoke. Soon after I successfully completed the Selective Service testing, the US Navy sent me a letter offering to make me an officer. While always wanting to be in command of my own destroyer, I declined and now sail the cabbie seas in my big, Yellow motorboat skimming over the urban, asphalt waters, ever vigilant for pirates and police.
Without Question, the Best Choice for Mayor: Jenny Durkan---Please, No Bad "Moon" Rising!
"I see the bad moon rising
I see trouble on the way
I see earthquakes and lightin'
I see bad times today"
from "Bad Moon Rising" (1969) written by John Fogerty and performed by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Of course I am referring to that other current candidate for Seattle mayor 2017, Cary Moon, that most theoretical of electoral candidates, and if I can say it, a "liberal and progressive" version of Donald Trump. I find the parallels between the two compelling due to having very similar lives---growing up wealthy, working for their parent's company, and never having to truly work for a living, with both of course sharing a propensity for thinking they have ideas that should be listened to and embraced. The reference in the CCR song to earthquakes is important to any consideration of Cary Moon's candidacy, given that she was a proponent of keeping the damage prone Highway 99 (the Alaskan Way Viaduct) bridge standing.
While many might remember the February 28th, 2001 magnitude 6.8 Nisqually earthquake, with an epicenter 11miles northeast of the state capital, Olympia, many don't realize that if it had been shallower, the Alaskan Way Viaduct, along with much of downtown Seattle, would either have tumbled down or been rendered irreparable. As the saying goes, Seattle and area "dodged a bullet" but unfortunately the seismic gun is slowly reloading beneath the earth's crust, meaning that within the next 50 years, there is 87.56 percent probability of a 5.0 or greater earthquake occurring.
In Oakland, California, the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake destroyed the similarly designed Cypress Street Viaduct with a loss of 42 lives. Given that 110,000 cars cross the Alaskan Way Viaduct daily, one can see the potential for hundreds of lives loss if the "big one" hits Seattle today in the near future. Also during that same earthquake, San Francisco's Embarcadero Freeway was severely damaged, resulting it being removed in 1991. In other words, it was preordained that the Alaskan Way Viaduct was slated for some future catastrophe potentially killing how many motorists I hate to think about. That is why it is being thrown down and taken away.
If you need further convincing that Cary Moon's advocacy to keep the Viaduct up and working was misguided, please note that since 1931, Seattle has experienced 1,113 earthquakes within a 30 mile radius. And given that Moon is an Operations Engineer, what in the world was she doing saying it should remain as the monument to the 1950's era engineering it is, opening for traffic April 1953, eight months before I was born in Puyallup, Washington.
This period of Northwest engineering certainly has a tainted history, exemplified by the opening in July 1940 of the new Tacoma Narrows Bridge (the legendary Galloping Gertie), a construction promptly collapsing into the Puget Sound on November 7th of that very same year. If the ancient Romans had built the bridge, it might still be standing but since it was built, like Moon, by American educated engineers, some question might be applied whether she, and others like her, know what-the-hell they are talking about. Just ask her. I know she will be quite reassuring about everything she doesn't know anything about. It comes with very familiar territory: hubris.
In reference to Moon's opponent, Jenny Durkan, while coming from a similarly coddled background, she did strike out on her own and teach school in the Alaskan wilderness, along with working as a baggage handler for Wien Air Alaska. That she also served as the United States Attorney for Western Washington from 2009to 2014 suggests she understands politics and issues on a far more workable level than Cary Moon.
And another reason for Moon wanting to be mayor: having so much spare time she needs a hobby, and running Seattle would fit in perfectly into her assumed lifestyle. Some people collect stamps, others famous autographs, so why not run a big city? Why, it might even be fun!
That is why, despite similar policy positions, I think Durkan is the correct choice to be Seattle's next mayor. Moon also unfortunately reminds me of all those so-called policy expects featured on NPR radio. If you have a degree in whatever subject and are currently teaching at whatever university, you are then completely qualified to render both opinion and solution upon subjects that have plagued humankind for millenniums. Have anyone noticed how simple the issue or problem appears to be when they speak? If only they were in charge, everything would be solved instantaneously. Ain't that grand?
And according to Cary Moon, she has the answer to Seattle's most pressing problems. And how she knows is a simple matter of privilege, her leisurely life having provided her plenty of time to lay around upon a couch and think about the world's problems, coming up with all the answers. Just like Donald Trump, wouldn't you agree, two "green" peas in the same upper-middle class pod?
The clear answer is I don't want to, instead wanting to continue taking them to their requested destination. And it just isn't about the money either because, despite whatever crazy behavior displayed, I have no desire to inconvenience them, grieving me each time this happens. I do have a very high tolerance for misbehavior but clearly situations arise when there is no alternative to telling the passenger that they need to find some other means of transportation.
I say all this because my oldest sister commented that I was "about to snap," that two recent posted ride profiles showed I was seconds away from emulating Travis Bickle, Robert DeNiro's deranged cabbie in the Martin Scorsese's movie, "Taxi Driver." She does know that in 30 years I have never carried a gun along with me in the cab.
She also made the ill-conceived remark that the aforementioned passengers had done nothing to elicit any response but to take them to where they were going. But in the second case I never truly knew where she wanted to go, and remain suspicious that she herself didn't know. As I said in my post, going home with me wasn't an option. And one should ask, why did she think it was a possibility, having barely said ten words to her?
Responding to my sister's email, I said, "That's funny!" because it is, further commenting that her remark "treated me like I was some stranger, and not her brother" It is also another example of someone thinking they know all about the taxi experience while not understanding it one iota.
I also said that the situation reminded me of our father, someone who failed to recognize anyone for anything but especially focusing his unseeing upon his wife and sons and daughters. Did we even exist, seemingly a mystery marking him to the end of his days upon our planet? Given that, I remain sensitive to being misunderstood, at least expecting people to make the smallest of efforts toward seeing who I might be.
So instead of remaining resentful, I think a quiz is in order, giving you the opportunity to decide just what state of mind the passengers were in when, in the first situation, the woman saying we were proceeding west while going east; and secondly, the second passenger denying she had routed me to the top of Queen Anne Hill, and as I said, inferred she wanted to sleep with me. Crazy and crazy and, of course, insane!
Quiz # 1
Was the woman who refused to to be reasoned with while we headed in the correct direction down East Aloha Street:
1) drunk
2) on drugs
3) experiencing a psychiatric break
4) or all of the above
I say the answer is number 3 because she was instantly agitated, making all attempts toward resolution impossible. My "Hey, don't you see that the street numbers are ascending upward." being completely ignored, finding her fury misplaced and completely unnecessary, with it all adding up to that she appeared to be experiencing some kind of mental disorientation that very likely was psychologically-based.
What was making her "so crazy?" I don't know and as I said in my post, it wasn't my place to make that kind of determination, having left my DSM (Diagnostic & Statistical Manual) at home. Maybe in the future I should keep one beside me, and when called for, flip to the correct page and read the pertinent diagnosis to the passenger. I am sure they would be overjoyed with learning more about themselves, but upon second thought, perhaps not! Why know about yourself when instead it is so much fun being nuts, the proverbial walking and talking fruitcake!
Quiz # 2
The passenger who directed me from Ballard to Queen Anne was clearly "impacted" upon entering the cab. Was she under the influence of:
1) alcohol
2) drugs
3) drug & alcohol combination
4) held emotional or psychological components to her behavior
My choice are clearly numbers 3 and 4 because she was definitely "blitzed" out-of-her-mind on what I don't know. And after she denied she had taken me to 3rd West and West Galer, she tried to direct me back again along the very same route. Did any of this make sense?
Not to me, and not that anyone, especially my sister, might have noticed that I was the one driving the car. I just can't let anyone willy-nilly direct me anywhere they want to minus commonsense. It makes no sense and besides, its dangerous because it I find it very distracting having some lunatic in the backseat telling me where to go. Regular readers might remember when, a few months back, some drunk insisted I drive us into Lake Washington. No, I am not going to do that, 1092 not the best of swimmers.
I hope you enjoyed the quizzes, and since you passed the test, just like I did in 1972 during my battery of pre-induction testing, you are now drafted into the taxi army. Be sure to salute me when I walk by. And I am not just blowing taxi smoke. Soon after I successfully completed the Selective Service testing, the US Navy sent me a letter offering to make me an officer. While always wanting to be in command of my own destroyer, I declined and now sail the cabbie seas in my big, Yellow motorboat skimming over the urban, asphalt waters, ever vigilant for pirates and police.
Without Question, the Best Choice for Mayor: Jenny Durkan---Please, No Bad "Moon" Rising!
"I see the bad moon rising
I see trouble on the way
I see earthquakes and lightin'
I see bad times today"
from "Bad Moon Rising" (1969) written by John Fogerty and performed by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Of course I am referring to that other current candidate for Seattle mayor 2017, Cary Moon, that most theoretical of electoral candidates, and if I can say it, a "liberal and progressive" version of Donald Trump. I find the parallels between the two compelling due to having very similar lives---growing up wealthy, working for their parent's company, and never having to truly work for a living, with both of course sharing a propensity for thinking they have ideas that should be listened to and embraced. The reference in the CCR song to earthquakes is important to any consideration of Cary Moon's candidacy, given that she was a proponent of keeping the damage prone Highway 99 (the Alaskan Way Viaduct) bridge standing.
While many might remember the February 28th, 2001 magnitude 6.8 Nisqually earthquake, with an epicenter 11miles northeast of the state capital, Olympia, many don't realize that if it had been shallower, the Alaskan Way Viaduct, along with much of downtown Seattle, would either have tumbled down or been rendered irreparable. As the saying goes, Seattle and area "dodged a bullet" but unfortunately the seismic gun is slowly reloading beneath the earth's crust, meaning that within the next 50 years, there is 87.56 percent probability of a 5.0 or greater earthquake occurring.
In Oakland, California, the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake destroyed the similarly designed Cypress Street Viaduct with a loss of 42 lives. Given that 110,000 cars cross the Alaskan Way Viaduct daily, one can see the potential for hundreds of lives loss if the "big one" hits Seattle today in the near future. Also during that same earthquake, San Francisco's Embarcadero Freeway was severely damaged, resulting it being removed in 1991. In other words, it was preordained that the Alaskan Way Viaduct was slated for some future catastrophe potentially killing how many motorists I hate to think about. That is why it is being thrown down and taken away.
If you need further convincing that Cary Moon's advocacy to keep the Viaduct up and working was misguided, please note that since 1931, Seattle has experienced 1,113 earthquakes within a 30 mile radius. And given that Moon is an Operations Engineer, what in the world was she doing saying it should remain as the monument to the 1950's era engineering it is, opening for traffic April 1953, eight months before I was born in Puyallup, Washington.
This period of Northwest engineering certainly has a tainted history, exemplified by the opening in July 1940 of the new Tacoma Narrows Bridge (the legendary Galloping Gertie), a construction promptly collapsing into the Puget Sound on November 7th of that very same year. If the ancient Romans had built the bridge, it might still be standing but since it was built, like Moon, by American educated engineers, some question might be applied whether she, and others like her, know what-the-hell they are talking about. Just ask her. I know she will be quite reassuring about everything she doesn't know anything about. It comes with very familiar territory: hubris.
In reference to Moon's opponent, Jenny Durkan, while coming from a similarly coddled background, she did strike out on her own and teach school in the Alaskan wilderness, along with working as a baggage handler for Wien Air Alaska. That she also served as the United States Attorney for Western Washington from 2009to 2014 suggests she understands politics and issues on a far more workable level than Cary Moon.
And another reason for Moon wanting to be mayor: having so much spare time she needs a hobby, and running Seattle would fit in perfectly into her assumed lifestyle. Some people collect stamps, others famous autographs, so why not run a big city? Why, it might even be fun!
That is why, despite similar policy positions, I think Durkan is the correct choice to be Seattle's next mayor. Moon also unfortunately reminds me of all those so-called policy expects featured on NPR radio. If you have a degree in whatever subject and are currently teaching at whatever university, you are then completely qualified to render both opinion and solution upon subjects that have plagued humankind for millenniums. Have anyone noticed how simple the issue or problem appears to be when they speak? If only they were in charge, everything would be solved instantaneously. Ain't that grand?
And according to Cary Moon, she has the answer to Seattle's most pressing problems. And how she knows is a simple matter of privilege, her leisurely life having provided her plenty of time to lay around upon a couch and think about the world's problems, coming up with all the answers. Just like Donald Trump, wouldn't you agree, two "green" peas in the same upper-middle class pod?
Wednesday, October 11, 2017
Julie Gave Me A Free Slice Of Pizza
As I have duly noted many times previously, I never ultimately know how passengers will react, or are responding to me. That I am considered somewhat unconventional I suppose goes without saying, especially amongst you readers, my blog often exposing a more feral and undomesticated side of my normally civilized self.
In short, all I try to be is myself minus embellishment one way or the other; and that I am a hippie, a refugee from the1960s who just happens to be driving a cab I make no effort to conceal. With all my other endeavors I remain the same but it is true that cab driving often makes me more irritable than usual, often resulting in a "bitter and biting" tongue though for the most part I make every effort to remain both responsive and congenial. Peace, brothers and sisters, will always be my primary objective, peace both on earth and inside my taxi! If only others were so benign, tranquility might reign across our world.
All this leads up to this past weekend and getting free slices of pizza both Saturday and Sunday courtesy of Julie, employee and pizza maker at the local Capitol Hill pizza establishment, Hot Mama's Pizza, Julie being someone who, along with her record collecting boyfriend, rode in my taxi a few months back to their north end home.
Picking them up at Hot Mama's, they gave me a few slices for the road, and in general we had a pleasant ride to their home abode, all the while discussing records and such. The ride ended with a great tip provided by these nice folks, the kind of interaction making up for the many other less-than-pleasant encounters. As said, that was the last I thought of it, other than occasionally seeing the young woman making pizza when I stopped in for a slice, a pleasant interaction remembered and noted.
But this past Saturday night, coming in for a quick slice, the cashier smiled and said Julie had taken care of it, and there she was in her usual spot, making dough. I was so shocked I forgot to leave a tip but did take a moment to thank her.
And yet again, Sunday night the same occurrence, Julie once more providing me with a complimentary slice. This time I remembered to tip 2 bucks, again thanking her for the recognition because somehow I had done something right, as opposed to the many theoretic wrongs often flung my way. Great thanks, Julie, as your kindness makes that pizza taste ever better, being more than food, clearly a Communion host containing the friendliness of emotions!
Not A Good Place To Put A Table!
Speeding (more or less 60 MPH) to Sea-Tac Sunday night southbound on State Route 509, suddenly in the dark I saw a small table directly in my path a mere 75-100 feet away. Had it just fallen onto the roadway? That is my guess.
Hitting the brakes and swerving to the left, the table bounced off to where I will never know, as my concentration was solely focused upon getting the suddenly fishtailing 1092 back under control. For a quick moment I thought we were going to roll. Thank goodness my driving instincts, dating way back to age 12 and the autumn of 1967, kicked in, saving the taxi day and perhaps our lives. Once we got to his Sea-Tac area hotel, my grateful passenger shook my hand, thanking me for my "professional maneuver."
Is SR 509 inherently dangerous? I pose that question because my near accident occurred within a mile of where my friend Jack received his fatal injury when YC 478 slipped off the roadway into a hillside. Damn taxi! is all I can say. Tables upon the roadway? Amazing!
HopeLink's Tyranny!
Too often recently I have witnessed theoretic "good people" do incredible damage to everyone minus any thinking of real and actual consequences. Whether it is the 'liberal" Seattle City Council uncapping Uber or the mayor installing bike lanes on already impassable streets, it is truly troubling that these "saviors of all human kind" forget that they are impacting the innocent, seemingly concerned only with their immediate priorities regardless of all associated consequences. And you can believe there can be, and are, repercussions to arrogance and hubris. Case and point is the helping agency HopeLink, like the animated Mister Magoo, leaving destruction and mayhem in its unseeing wake.
Monday afternoon I got a HopeLink $41.00 flat-rate fare from north Seattle to Bellevue, leaving me no option but to take the Evergreen Toll bridge, the toll at that moment $4.30. Minus that from my fare, and minus a further $4.30 heading back, and you see I netted $32.40.
When I inquired if I could protest, I was told what I already knew: that imperious HopeLink makes us take all liabilities while handling their "civilization saving" missions. Whether 20 % of their calls are no-shows or the majority of the flat-rates do not equate assigned costs means little to nothing to them. They are the moral Royalty and we, the local cabbies, are their minions. Any complaint is met with "stuff it!' and you know, they really do a great job jamming it down the cabbie's throat. And you wonder why I am choking?
Ain't that nice? No!
Did the SPD Hear?
Whether the UW and Seattle Police Departments heard my lament I will never know for sure but something concerning their collective approach to traffic management dramatically changed during Saturday's Husky football game because I found the lanes open throughout the course of the UW 38 to 7 victory over Cal. I even got a fare to Mountlake Terrace. Hurrah! Go team!
And perhaps many thanks to Seattle City Council members Bruce Harrell and Mike O'Brien and the good SPD traffic division Sargent. Like said previously, the ways of the Seattle traffic Gods are mysterious, beyond the reach of mere mortals like me. I just say a prayer and hope for the best. It is all I can do!
In short, all I try to be is myself minus embellishment one way or the other; and that I am a hippie, a refugee from the1960s who just happens to be driving a cab I make no effort to conceal. With all my other endeavors I remain the same but it is true that cab driving often makes me more irritable than usual, often resulting in a "bitter and biting" tongue though for the most part I make every effort to remain both responsive and congenial. Peace, brothers and sisters, will always be my primary objective, peace both on earth and inside my taxi! If only others were so benign, tranquility might reign across our world.
All this leads up to this past weekend and getting free slices of pizza both Saturday and Sunday courtesy of Julie, employee and pizza maker at the local Capitol Hill pizza establishment, Hot Mama's Pizza, Julie being someone who, along with her record collecting boyfriend, rode in my taxi a few months back to their north end home.
Picking them up at Hot Mama's, they gave me a few slices for the road, and in general we had a pleasant ride to their home abode, all the while discussing records and such. The ride ended with a great tip provided by these nice folks, the kind of interaction making up for the many other less-than-pleasant encounters. As said, that was the last I thought of it, other than occasionally seeing the young woman making pizza when I stopped in for a slice, a pleasant interaction remembered and noted.
But this past Saturday night, coming in for a quick slice, the cashier smiled and said Julie had taken care of it, and there she was in her usual spot, making dough. I was so shocked I forgot to leave a tip but did take a moment to thank her.
And yet again, Sunday night the same occurrence, Julie once more providing me with a complimentary slice. This time I remembered to tip 2 bucks, again thanking her for the recognition because somehow I had done something right, as opposed to the many theoretic wrongs often flung my way. Great thanks, Julie, as your kindness makes that pizza taste ever better, being more than food, clearly a Communion host containing the friendliness of emotions!
Not A Good Place To Put A Table!
Speeding (more or less 60 MPH) to Sea-Tac Sunday night southbound on State Route 509, suddenly in the dark I saw a small table directly in my path a mere 75-100 feet away. Had it just fallen onto the roadway? That is my guess.
Hitting the brakes and swerving to the left, the table bounced off to where I will never know, as my concentration was solely focused upon getting the suddenly fishtailing 1092 back under control. For a quick moment I thought we were going to roll. Thank goodness my driving instincts, dating way back to age 12 and the autumn of 1967, kicked in, saving the taxi day and perhaps our lives. Once we got to his Sea-Tac area hotel, my grateful passenger shook my hand, thanking me for my "professional maneuver."
Is SR 509 inherently dangerous? I pose that question because my near accident occurred within a mile of where my friend Jack received his fatal injury when YC 478 slipped off the roadway into a hillside. Damn taxi! is all I can say. Tables upon the roadway? Amazing!
HopeLink's Tyranny!
Too often recently I have witnessed theoretic "good people" do incredible damage to everyone minus any thinking of real and actual consequences. Whether it is the 'liberal" Seattle City Council uncapping Uber or the mayor installing bike lanes on already impassable streets, it is truly troubling that these "saviors of all human kind" forget that they are impacting the innocent, seemingly concerned only with their immediate priorities regardless of all associated consequences. And you can believe there can be, and are, repercussions to arrogance and hubris. Case and point is the helping agency HopeLink, like the animated Mister Magoo, leaving destruction and mayhem in its unseeing wake.
Monday afternoon I got a HopeLink $41.00 flat-rate fare from north Seattle to Bellevue, leaving me no option but to take the Evergreen Toll bridge, the toll at that moment $4.30. Minus that from my fare, and minus a further $4.30 heading back, and you see I netted $32.40.
When I inquired if I could protest, I was told what I already knew: that imperious HopeLink makes us take all liabilities while handling their "civilization saving" missions. Whether 20 % of their calls are no-shows or the majority of the flat-rates do not equate assigned costs means little to nothing to them. They are the moral Royalty and we, the local cabbies, are their minions. Any complaint is met with "stuff it!' and you know, they really do a great job jamming it down the cabbie's throat. And you wonder why I am choking?
Ain't that nice? No!
Did the SPD Hear?
Whether the UW and Seattle Police Departments heard my lament I will never know for sure but something concerning their collective approach to traffic management dramatically changed during Saturday's Husky football game because I found the lanes open throughout the course of the UW 38 to 7 victory over Cal. I even got a fare to Mountlake Terrace. Hurrah! Go team!
And perhaps many thanks to Seattle City Council members Bruce Harrell and Mike O'Brien and the good SPD traffic division Sargent. Like said previously, the ways of the Seattle traffic Gods are mysterious, beyond the reach of mere mortals like me. I just say a prayer and hope for the best. It is all I can do!
Tuesday, October 3, 2017
While A Good Weekend It Was Also Very Strange!
I keep repeating "I don't want to do this any more" and after some of the rides I had both Saturday and Sunday I can definitely say, "I don't want to drive taxi again! No more, no more, let me please exit the cabbie door!"
As it was strange in Seattle, it appears it was odd everywhere, exemplified to the extreme by the shooting in Las Vegas, Nevada and the killing of 59 and the wounding of over 500 concert goers. If it is true that something mysterious and unexplainable took over the United States, affecting myriad and unconnected events, just what is it, what is this invisible phenomena wreaking havoc across the nation? Damn if I know but it is as real as me sitting here typing in a Tacoma coffee shop. I don't like it, not enjoying being manipulated by the unknown cosmos.
One major reason why these kinds of weird rides irritate me so much is that I feel victimized for no reason whatsoever other than I'm in a cab. It is apparent that is quite enough justification for passengers treating you unjustly. All I did Saturday night was answer a call at 14th East and East Aloha, and once the woman was in the cab, began losing her mind when I started taking her to the requested destination of 26th South and South Lane. East Aloha at that point is a local arterial and the routing couldn't have been simpler, proceeding east then turning south on 23rd and following that all the way to South Lane Street, taking a left and three blocks later, 26th South.
But no, she immediately began telling me to "Turn around. You're going in the wrong direction!" Telling her that we were heading east and planing on taking 23rd southbound did nothing to dissuade her. As she grew more agitated, I zipped a U-turn at 19th East, telling her I had had enough of her confusion. "Oh," she suddenly exclaimed," I'm sorry. You're right, we were heading in the right direction."
Knowing that, given immediate evidence, she could again come up with more nonsense, I stopped in front of her address and said, "Get out!" Stepping out, she proceeded to lecture me upon my lack of customer service. I guess she thought I was either a psychiatrist or a drug counselor but given I was at that moment only a frustrated cabbie she will have to seek those services elsewhere.
Even more bizarre was what turned out to be my last Saturday night (early Sunday morning) bar-break passenger, a woman wanting to go to the top of Queen Anne hill from Ballad. Making the conclusion even odder is that she was very specific in her instructions, routing me to West Nickerson and then up 3rd Avenue West, finally taking us to 3rd West and West Galer.
Having grown quiet, I asked her where she needed to be, with her response slightly more than crazy. "I want to go home. Is your home ready?" somehow implying that she wanted me to take her back to my place.
Responding that this was nuts, I again asked her where she wanted to go but this time I needed the money upfront. She said she wanted to go to North 43rd and Wallingford North, where her house was located. When I questioned her to just why she took us in the wrong direction she said " I never asked you to bring me here."
That is when I pulled over and "I don't want your money. Just get out!" understanding that whatever was occurring with this woman, the results for me wouldn't be good, ranging from not getting paid to having to summon the police. Pissing me off further is that I ignored taking a dispatched call when I saw her waving. Having cost me money and time I just gave up, and headed north to five hours of total sleep. As said, I don't need this kind of treatment, doing absolute nothing for me, a total wash on every conceivable level.
Fast forwarding to Sunday night and halftime at the Seahawk game, an older upper-middle class couple got in and asked if I knew how to get to 28_ _ Elliott, a destination about 12 blocks away in an almost straight line, I responded that it was about 3/4 of a mile away, meaning "just get in because we are almost there."
But no, not trusting any cabbie, lumping me into whatever "servant"category they felt I fell in to, did not like my response, finally getting out one block later, saying I had run a red light. In these kinds of situations I usually just say "you don't have to pay" but given they had wasted my valuable time I requested the $3.00 on the meter. If they had just been normal and simply said "Take me to _____, please!" like 99 % of the human population I would have had them there in 2-5 minutes.
About 1 1/2 hours later I took a group of ladies from Pier 69 to the Bellevue Hyatt, and the woman sitting next to me, having exchanged little more than 30 words with her, gave me a one hundred dollar bill for the $32.00 fare and said "Keep it!" All she had done was give me the name of the hotel minus any questioning. And guess what, I got her there, and not even charging her for the 520 Bridge toll.
Was I somehow a different cabbie, magically changed in a mere short period of time? No is the answer. No.
All of this reminding me of an old business card where I stated "Depending on your attitude, The Best! the Worst!" which pretty much sums up the taxi experience, madness and stupidity lurkng "round the next corner! Again, I don't need this crap in my life. I really don't!
As it was strange in Seattle, it appears it was odd everywhere, exemplified to the extreme by the shooting in Las Vegas, Nevada and the killing of 59 and the wounding of over 500 concert goers. If it is true that something mysterious and unexplainable took over the United States, affecting myriad and unconnected events, just what is it, what is this invisible phenomena wreaking havoc across the nation? Damn if I know but it is as real as me sitting here typing in a Tacoma coffee shop. I don't like it, not enjoying being manipulated by the unknown cosmos.
One major reason why these kinds of weird rides irritate me so much is that I feel victimized for no reason whatsoever other than I'm in a cab. It is apparent that is quite enough justification for passengers treating you unjustly. All I did Saturday night was answer a call at 14th East and East Aloha, and once the woman was in the cab, began losing her mind when I started taking her to the requested destination of 26th South and South Lane. East Aloha at that point is a local arterial and the routing couldn't have been simpler, proceeding east then turning south on 23rd and following that all the way to South Lane Street, taking a left and three blocks later, 26th South.
But no, she immediately began telling me to "Turn around. You're going in the wrong direction!" Telling her that we were heading east and planing on taking 23rd southbound did nothing to dissuade her. As she grew more agitated, I zipped a U-turn at 19th East, telling her I had had enough of her confusion. "Oh," she suddenly exclaimed," I'm sorry. You're right, we were heading in the right direction."
Knowing that, given immediate evidence, she could again come up with more nonsense, I stopped in front of her address and said, "Get out!" Stepping out, she proceeded to lecture me upon my lack of customer service. I guess she thought I was either a psychiatrist or a drug counselor but given I was at that moment only a frustrated cabbie she will have to seek those services elsewhere.
Even more bizarre was what turned out to be my last Saturday night (early Sunday morning) bar-break passenger, a woman wanting to go to the top of Queen Anne hill from Ballad. Making the conclusion even odder is that she was very specific in her instructions, routing me to West Nickerson and then up 3rd Avenue West, finally taking us to 3rd West and West Galer.
Having grown quiet, I asked her where she needed to be, with her response slightly more than crazy. "I want to go home. Is your home ready?" somehow implying that she wanted me to take her back to my place.
Responding that this was nuts, I again asked her where she wanted to go but this time I needed the money upfront. She said she wanted to go to North 43rd and Wallingford North, where her house was located. When I questioned her to just why she took us in the wrong direction she said " I never asked you to bring me here."
That is when I pulled over and "I don't want your money. Just get out!" understanding that whatever was occurring with this woman, the results for me wouldn't be good, ranging from not getting paid to having to summon the police. Pissing me off further is that I ignored taking a dispatched call when I saw her waving. Having cost me money and time I just gave up, and headed north to five hours of total sleep. As said, I don't need this kind of treatment, doing absolute nothing for me, a total wash on every conceivable level.
Fast forwarding to Sunday night and halftime at the Seahawk game, an older upper-middle class couple got in and asked if I knew how to get to 28_ _ Elliott, a destination about 12 blocks away in an almost straight line, I responded that it was about 3/4 of a mile away, meaning "just get in because we are almost there."
But no, not trusting any cabbie, lumping me into whatever "servant"category they felt I fell in to, did not like my response, finally getting out one block later, saying I had run a red light. In these kinds of situations I usually just say "you don't have to pay" but given they had wasted my valuable time I requested the $3.00 on the meter. If they had just been normal and simply said "Take me to _____, please!" like 99 % of the human population I would have had them there in 2-5 minutes.
About 1 1/2 hours later I took a group of ladies from Pier 69 to the Bellevue Hyatt, and the woman sitting next to me, having exchanged little more than 30 words with her, gave me a one hundred dollar bill for the $32.00 fare and said "Keep it!" All she had done was give me the name of the hotel minus any questioning. And guess what, I got her there, and not even charging her for the 520 Bridge toll.
Was I somehow a different cabbie, magically changed in a mere short period of time? No is the answer. No.
All of this reminding me of an old business card where I stated "Depending on your attitude, The Best! the Worst!" which pretty much sums up the taxi experience, madness and stupidity lurkng "round the next corner! Again, I don't need this crap in my life. I really don't!
Thursday, September 28, 2017
Who Speaks For Us?---Taxi Lobbyists and Other Industry Advocates & Update Concerning Changes at Sea-Tac Airport
From my experience, beginning with my childhood years, it is problematic when represented by someone other than yourself. Of course when I was five my sole representatives were my parents, people I had already found to be, even at that precocious age, dysfunctional and less than reliable in almost all areas of adult endeavor. So, commencing from that startling revelation in 1959, I quickly understood that it was pretty much up to me to communicate to all concerned who I was and what I wanted and needed. If I needed a lobbyist, it was clear I was hiring myself for the position, obviously picking the best qualified candidate.
Fast-forwarding up to the present year, 2017, I find what I knew to be true remains accurate all these years later, that when it comes to explaining my reality to others, it is best left to no one else but me. I decided long ago, if ever serving in an elected office, it will be me and me alone writing my speeches. How could it be any other way? I would find it akin to having someone else lift the spoon to my mouth. Why would I want that? I don't, and never will allow someone to do something that I am perfectly capable of doing, much preferring death than artifice mimicking life.
Which brings to the specific subject of taxi lobbyists, what they do and don't do for our industry. Amongst these lobbyists are those not specifically designated as lobbyists but who circumstantially serve a similar role, for instance Teamsters 117 and their ilk, who like the professional lobbyist espouse policy minus any true working knowledge of the cabbie experience. In other words, they have never driven a taxi, and never will, having decided it unnecessary to obtain their for-hire and sweat for a few weeks beneath the top-light, thus gaining what they currently do not have: a nose bloodied by taxi reality.
And why do they think they understand what they don't know? From my observation, it sources from being upper-middle class and attending college and being told countless times that more than special, they are seraphic; and since they are, they, like Superman or Superwoman, can leap great lengths in a single bound, coming to understanding and comprehension beyond ordinary less celestial individuals, especially those categorized as the great unwashed: misbegotten children lost in a much bigger adult world, clad in dirty diapers.
If this isn't true, then what is certainly true, speaking from my own personal experience, it taking years to master a particular field of study, talent being only one small part of the larger equation. In 1974, at age 20 I obtained my first professional counseling position, finding myself groping forward into the psychiatric darkness. After bumping my head countless times against unpadded walls, I found it taking many hours and years before I had even a rough idea of what was truly going on inside the schizophrenic mind.
Recently I found my first poem written when I was 9, while also finding my first "adult" poetry published at age 25. While the young and older poems displayed promise, it was not until I was nearly 30 did I write anything that just might withstand the literary test of time. A NOSE IS A FLESHY ROSE THAT I BLOWS! See what I mean!
Taxi was also the same for me, initially displaying talent but little beyond that, my money-making abilities masking my true ignorance of the industry, taking me a minimum of five years to transition from novice to any kind of real competency. Am I still a Seattle taxi "green pea?" Probably.
So when a lobbyist says, as one recently did, that riding around with a cabbie a few times makes her totally prepared to speak for us, my quick response is: that isn't possible. And clearly that reality remaining the same if she were representing plumbers or horse jockeys or graphic artists. How could she know, not knowing the territory but instead speaking solely from her imagination. While she might, in that sense, write a novel it wouldn't be a very good one, guesswork the worse literary foundation, destined for the paper recycling bin.
So why has the industry allowed the uninformed to speak so long for them, to set policy, to literally frame their existence? I'll respond to that another time but I will quickly say that when you have been stepped upon for years, you begin to think less of yourself, volunteering to be roadkill. That is the simple answer to something deserving more time than I can currently give it. As history isn't created in moment, neither is my answer, not wanting to explain 30 years of study in 60 compacted minutes. What is the hurry anyway? Is anything going to change? No.
Good News from the Port of Seattle
I am pleased to pass on that those representatives of Sea-Tac International Airport, the Board of Port of Seattle Commissioners, have decided to give the cabbies and flat-rate for hire drivers a break, reducing their gate fee by one dollar per trip to the now required $6.00 per outbound fare. This also means there will be no annual fee increases, as was previously scheduled. And after reports of shabby conditions, four million dollars has been earmarked for refurbishing the building at the taxi holding lot.
Why now is the commission responsive and empathetic? I am guessing that a change in Port of Seattle leadership along with a year's reflection have resulted in a more compassionate response. Was everyone mad at Yellow Cab for under reporting earning? Yes, they were, and unfortunately it appears the cabbies took it on the chin for transgressions not of their making. Why they are even looking into solving the short-haul problem, which would be great news for those just driving across International Boulevard to the Red Lion or the Double Tree.
And it appears the good work isn't completed, with the commission looking further into how they can assist the long suffering Sea-Tac cabbies. Hurrah!
Good News from the Port of Seattle
I am pleased to pass on that those representatives of Sea-Tac International Airport, the Board of Port of Seattle Commissioners, have decided to give the cabbies and flat-rate for hire drivers a break, reducing their gate fee by one dollar per trip to the now required $6.00 per outbound fare. This also means there will be no annual fee increases, as was previously scheduled. And after reports of shabby conditions, four million dollars has been earmarked for refurbishing the building at the taxi holding lot.
Why now is the commission responsive and empathetic? I am guessing that a change in Port of Seattle leadership along with a year's reflection have resulted in a more compassionate response. Was everyone mad at Yellow Cab for under reporting earning? Yes, they were, and unfortunately it appears the cabbies took it on the chin for transgressions not of their making. Why they are even looking into solving the short-haul problem, which would be great news for those just driving across International Boulevard to the Red Lion or the Double Tree.
And it appears the good work isn't completed, with the commission looking further into how they can assist the long suffering Sea-Tac cabbies. Hurrah!
Tuesday, September 19, 2017
More SPD & UW Police Overstepping At UW Husky Football Game & Not One, But Two New Seattle Mayors
Saturday night the Seattle police and their University of Washington counterparts were up to their old tricks, denying taxi access to the frenzied hordes exiting the UW versus Fresno State game, complicating everything by closing off streets just mere minutes into the second half. And adding yet another new dimension to the usual confusion and traffic mayhem, they stopped all access immediately after the game, meaning thousands of fans were left puzzled and stranded waiting for taxis and Ubers that never arrived. Why the authorities did this I don't know but I will attempt to get an official reply but from my experience I might as well be trying to contact Vladimir Putin, meaning they don't make it easy to communicate with them. I wonder if this is intentional? What do you think about bureaucratic distance, the hiding behind grey, opaque walls? Is it true or perhaps I am just not trying hard enough?
When I did make it in toward game's end, it resulted in two Kirkland trips and one final "searching for my friend Mike" who had evidently taken a drunken plunge into the Montlake Canal, only to have been rescued by a passing boater. Maybe it was best we didn't find Mike because my passenger kept saying "I am going to punch him in the nose!" Doesn't that make sense, taking all this time and effort to find someone for the sole purpose of beating him up? All I can say is welcome to post-Husky delirium, something I have seen too many times over my 30 years working the games. Go team! rah rah rah!
Mayor Murray Resigns
The past two weeks two weeks have seen the resignation of Mayor Ed Murray and the installing of not one but two new Seattle mayors. This all came about when Murray's second cousin came out, 40 years late, to say that he too had been sexually abused by the now former mayor. One can ask why it took him so long when he could have stopped Murray in his sexual tracks years ago?
There are so many important questions concerning all this, including if Murray has committed what is said, why in the political world did he think he could get away with something that was in plain view? Could it be that since he never had done anything wrong in the first place, how could he think he would be held accountable for crimes that never happened?
Another question is, has anyone been paid? I say this because the entire situation started with an infamous muckraking lawyer dredging up alleged victims from the far past, some of whom are convicted male prostitutes. Has any of those intrepid Seattle Times reporters checked out bank accounts and sudden changes in life styles? If they have, it hasn't been noted.
The outraged rhetoric has at times been appalling, epitomized by former mayoral candidate, Nikkita Oliver shouting just how outrageous Murray has been, expressing"she just will never understand" how this horrible person got away this long with years of repeated sexual misdeeds? Yes, it is mysterious on many levels.
I guess she and others have all forgotten how Trump, who was not only accused but actually bragged about his sexual improprieties, has not only avoided prosecution but now holds an elected office? That I am not impressed goes, as the saying goes, "goes without saying" but I had to say it anyway.
At least Seattle Council Member Bruce Harrell gave up his week-long mayoral tenure to Council Member Tim Burgess, who remains the Mayor of Seattle for 71 days. Harrell brief tenure led to a series of emails between me and a known taxi industry lobbyist. A focus upon that is something you might look forward to in next week's posting. She did say that a few hours riding along in a taxi makes her extremely knowledgeable concerning industry issues. Hey, that reminds of Sarah Palin's famous "I understand Russia because I can see it off the coast of Alaska?" She did? Maybe she was wearing a special set of eye glasses. I suppose anything is possible.
When I did make it in toward game's end, it resulted in two Kirkland trips and one final "searching for my friend Mike" who had evidently taken a drunken plunge into the Montlake Canal, only to have been rescued by a passing boater. Maybe it was best we didn't find Mike because my passenger kept saying "I am going to punch him in the nose!" Doesn't that make sense, taking all this time and effort to find someone for the sole purpose of beating him up? All I can say is welcome to post-Husky delirium, something I have seen too many times over my 30 years working the games. Go team! rah rah rah!
Mayor Murray Resigns
The past two weeks two weeks have seen the resignation of Mayor Ed Murray and the installing of not one but two new Seattle mayors. This all came about when Murray's second cousin came out, 40 years late, to say that he too had been sexually abused by the now former mayor. One can ask why it took him so long when he could have stopped Murray in his sexual tracks years ago?
There are so many important questions concerning all this, including if Murray has committed what is said, why in the political world did he think he could get away with something that was in plain view? Could it be that since he never had done anything wrong in the first place, how could he think he would be held accountable for crimes that never happened?
Another question is, has anyone been paid? I say this because the entire situation started with an infamous muckraking lawyer dredging up alleged victims from the far past, some of whom are convicted male prostitutes. Has any of those intrepid Seattle Times reporters checked out bank accounts and sudden changes in life styles? If they have, it hasn't been noted.
The outraged rhetoric has at times been appalling, epitomized by former mayoral candidate, Nikkita Oliver shouting just how outrageous Murray has been, expressing"she just will never understand" how this horrible person got away this long with years of repeated sexual misdeeds? Yes, it is mysterious on many levels.
I guess she and others have all forgotten how Trump, who was not only accused but actually bragged about his sexual improprieties, has not only avoided prosecution but now holds an elected office? That I am not impressed goes, as the saying goes, "goes without saying" but I had to say it anyway.
At least Seattle Council Member Bruce Harrell gave up his week-long mayoral tenure to Council Member Tim Burgess, who remains the Mayor of Seattle for 71 days. Harrell brief tenure led to a series of emails between me and a known taxi industry lobbyist. A focus upon that is something you might look forward to in next week's posting. She did say that a few hours riding along in a taxi makes her extremely knowledgeable concerning industry issues. Hey, that reminds of Sarah Palin's famous "I understand Russia because I can see it off the coast of Alaska?" She did? Maybe she was wearing a special set of eye glasses. I suppose anything is possible.
Wednesday, September 13, 2017
Panic In The Taxi Streets & Shirley Jackson Was Correct About Human Nature
Monday night I attended a special dinner commemorating both Merkel Cell cancer research and Merkel Cell survivors with my longtime friend Marty C. (fellow writer & Vietnam-era 1-0), Marty having, a few years back, successfully beaten what unfortunately has proved to be a quick death sentence for many who develop the disease. The dinner was held at the sparkling new University of Washington Lake Union Research Center located at 750 Republican Street. The food was quite good, along with unlimited glasses of decent wine.
As usual, having little time to spare, I took in the dinner, and not the accompanying lectures and presentations, wanting to support Marty in his continuing support and advocacy of his fellow cancer survivors. Like Marty, who is currently residing in Tennessee, everyone sitting at our table were from out-of-state, one couple from Alabama, along with two friends from Albany, Oregon. The sole reason I have for mentioning this event is that their stories about taking Seattle Yellow cabs were both disheartening and alarming. Not that I wanted to be but instantly I was appointed lead interpreter for a troubled industry, translating the unintelligible to the novice speaker.
How do you explain when a Seattle cabbie, one, asks someone from Alabama about how to find a Seattle address; and two, doesn't even know how to provide change for a ten dollar bill? Another disturbing story concerned being fought over at the train station, only to be insulted by the winner when it turns out she isn't going far despite having luggage, it being her bags sparking the cabbie conflict. Another time, she couldn't get a cab at all, having to call a friend to pick her up. These and other tales of taxi woe led me to provide explanation for what was for them inexpiable, telling them that inexperience and panic was the more-or-less answer to what they experienced, fully displaying our current sorry taxi state-of-affairs.
I told them that the very nature of taxi makes people crazy, and because it is getting harder and harder to find a fare, cabbie's are panicking, acting in ways they normally wouldn't, impacting both themselves and their customers. A story featured yesterday on the New York Times front page, "As Uber Ascends, Debt Demolishes Taxi Drivers," reported by Winne Hu, examines what is happening in New York City and in tandem reflected in Seattle and other American cities: cabbies are simply having difficulty making a living.
Early Saturday morning, something very unusual happened, meaning that for the very first time in 30 years I failed to get at least one fare during "bar-break," no flags or dispatch calls, no nothing, being shutout for 2 entire hours. Amazed more than anything else, I didn't panic and soon thereafter business picked up, leading to a reasonable successful weekend. As is obvious, if "Mister Pro" is experiencing this kind of stuff, what is happening to the rookies? They are going completely nuts is what is occurring, their behavior instant psychosis at the drop of the taxi hat.
And relating back to what I mentioned last week, about money-making troubles at Sea-Tac, I talked to someone over at Eastside/E-Cab and was told that they do indeed have a working dispatch system, and more, often can't get those E-Cab drivers to answer the calls, this in direct contradiction to what the E-Cab owner told me last week, saying dispatch didn't exist. So what is actually true or not?
Perhaps, as I have observed much recently, many of my fellow cabbies, despite living in the USA for a long time, have simply failed to fully transition to the new, sometimes very confusing reality around them. If there is another explanation I would like to hear it but after much observation I believe I am right. At least the guys at the train station, after my repeated annoyance, have begun to move forward in line, thus filling the gap and not allowing Uber drivers to pull in and drop off and pick up. Talk about annoying, being lectured by arrogant Uber operators, trying to tell me about taxi driving. God help us all!
Shirley Jackson Knew All About it
Shirley Jackson (1916-1965), at least in the 20th C, next to Earnest Hemingway, might have written some of most important short stories during that particular period of American writing history, her story "The Lottery" expressing quite accurately what human nature can be, and perhaps is all about, concerned only about their personal welfare and little else.
The reason I mention Jackson is due to having YC 1092 clipped by a driver Sunday in downtown Seattle. An unthinking passenger from Florida opened the right rear door into traffic, she being damn lucky to be alive. The driver of the car was a young woman I suspect was an Uber or Lyft driver who wasn't completely in control of her car. I have asked the proper authorities to check out just exactly what she was doing at that moment. If she is Uber, she didn't provide me me verification of commercial insurance.
Where "The Lottery" comes into play is when I told the _______ tourist, that in the State of Washington, she was liable for opening the door into an oncoming car. Remember, all I had done was pull up to the hotel and park, something I have done thousands of times over 30 years.
But since I told her and her friends something new to them, and potentially consequential, the good ladies, just like the good citizens in Jackson's story, began throwing stones, wanting to kill me while emotionally embracing the young woman who had nearly killed one of their party, thus ruining their Northwest vacation.
It was an amazing performance, made even more amazing because they were following a natural script, instinctively knowing their lines and parts. AsI keep saying, taxi driving provides a front row seat to all varieties of human behavior, in this case spontaneous theater composed and directed by anger and hatred. But if you think my ticket was free, think again, my cost of admission more than I could ever or want to afford, the cabbie paying, paying and paying some more to the end of known time!
Postscript 09/14/2017: More Pattern
In last week's posting, I inferred how the downtrodden are stepped upon by those in power, by those who have lots of money, or by people simply marginalizing others for no other reason than they can, their victims defenseless, unable to protect either themselves or their interests. Two good/bad examples of these kinds of behavior came to light last week, one featured in the New York Times; the other in reports about Houston, Texas and Hurricane Harvey's aftermath. Another comes from the most recent economic report concerning American income.
The NY Times article compared corporate eras, featuring a former Kodak (Rochester, NewYork) janitor, who through company care and assistance rose to to become an executive in various companies over the years; and a current janitor working in Cupertino, CA cleaning Apple offices. One was given opportunity while the other seems fated to work herself to death, making $16.00 per hour and paying over $2000.00 a month for rent. I know Cupertino because it was the home of my ex-in-laws, eventually moving their business from Saratoga to Cupertino. I have to laugh at the fact that the great American folk singer, Joan Baez, that battler for human rights, and once married to a jailed Vietnam War-era conscientious objector, David Harris, was for a period of time, the lover of Apple founder Steve Jobs. Remember, you read it here first!
And the big hearted Houston-based companies, enjoying a combined 7 billion dollar tax break from the city, announced that they would be donating 65 million for post-Harvey cleanup. Do the math and you will find 65 million divided into 7 billion 107 times, meaning the percentage of aid is low, and I am not even talking about annual combined corporate profits.
And one other piece of news is that combined American annual household income is at its highest level ever, $59.000. While at first glance seemingly a great pronouncement for all things American Capitalism, divide that number by 2 working people comprising that household and you come up with $29,500 each, showing you just how much money people are truly making. Dividing 2,080 working hours (based on 52 40 hour weeks) into $29,500, and you see that folks are working for just over $14.00 per hour. Last week I showed how the Federal minimum wage increased by just about 88 cents per decade. Taking the figure of $14.00 per hour, that shows an increase of $1.76 per decade since 1938. Real impressive, wouldn't you say, the richer getting richer, and the poor and working class fools, why they are just quietly buried six feet under, that's all.
It is clear that this pattern of financial inequality is entrenched, and as is the case currently throughout the USA, stridently defended by the worker drones, ever so happy swilling beer and watching football players delivering brain disease causing blows to each other's heads. Ain't life fun in America? Sure it is, and I am just a complete asshole for implying otherwise. Go 'Hawks! pound those hated 49er's into the turf!
As usual, having little time to spare, I took in the dinner, and not the accompanying lectures and presentations, wanting to support Marty in his continuing support and advocacy of his fellow cancer survivors. Like Marty, who is currently residing in Tennessee, everyone sitting at our table were from out-of-state, one couple from Alabama, along with two friends from Albany, Oregon. The sole reason I have for mentioning this event is that their stories about taking Seattle Yellow cabs were both disheartening and alarming. Not that I wanted to be but instantly I was appointed lead interpreter for a troubled industry, translating the unintelligible to the novice speaker.
How do you explain when a Seattle cabbie, one, asks someone from Alabama about how to find a Seattle address; and two, doesn't even know how to provide change for a ten dollar bill? Another disturbing story concerned being fought over at the train station, only to be insulted by the winner when it turns out she isn't going far despite having luggage, it being her bags sparking the cabbie conflict. Another time, she couldn't get a cab at all, having to call a friend to pick her up. These and other tales of taxi woe led me to provide explanation for what was for them inexpiable, telling them that inexperience and panic was the more-or-less answer to what they experienced, fully displaying our current sorry taxi state-of-affairs.
I told them that the very nature of taxi makes people crazy, and because it is getting harder and harder to find a fare, cabbie's are panicking, acting in ways they normally wouldn't, impacting both themselves and their customers. A story featured yesterday on the New York Times front page, "As Uber Ascends, Debt Demolishes Taxi Drivers," reported by Winne Hu, examines what is happening in New York City and in tandem reflected in Seattle and other American cities: cabbies are simply having difficulty making a living.
Early Saturday morning, something very unusual happened, meaning that for the very first time in 30 years I failed to get at least one fare during "bar-break," no flags or dispatch calls, no nothing, being shutout for 2 entire hours. Amazed more than anything else, I didn't panic and soon thereafter business picked up, leading to a reasonable successful weekend. As is obvious, if "Mister Pro" is experiencing this kind of stuff, what is happening to the rookies? They are going completely nuts is what is occurring, their behavior instant psychosis at the drop of the taxi hat.
And relating back to what I mentioned last week, about money-making troubles at Sea-Tac, I talked to someone over at Eastside/E-Cab and was told that they do indeed have a working dispatch system, and more, often can't get those E-Cab drivers to answer the calls, this in direct contradiction to what the E-Cab owner told me last week, saying dispatch didn't exist. So what is actually true or not?
Perhaps, as I have observed much recently, many of my fellow cabbies, despite living in the USA for a long time, have simply failed to fully transition to the new, sometimes very confusing reality around them. If there is another explanation I would like to hear it but after much observation I believe I am right. At least the guys at the train station, after my repeated annoyance, have begun to move forward in line, thus filling the gap and not allowing Uber drivers to pull in and drop off and pick up. Talk about annoying, being lectured by arrogant Uber operators, trying to tell me about taxi driving. God help us all!
Shirley Jackson Knew All About it
Shirley Jackson (1916-1965), at least in the 20th C, next to Earnest Hemingway, might have written some of most important short stories during that particular period of American writing history, her story "The Lottery" expressing quite accurately what human nature can be, and perhaps is all about, concerned only about their personal welfare and little else.
The reason I mention Jackson is due to having YC 1092 clipped by a driver Sunday in downtown Seattle. An unthinking passenger from Florida opened the right rear door into traffic, she being damn lucky to be alive. The driver of the car was a young woman I suspect was an Uber or Lyft driver who wasn't completely in control of her car. I have asked the proper authorities to check out just exactly what she was doing at that moment. If she is Uber, she didn't provide me me verification of commercial insurance.
Where "The Lottery" comes into play is when I told the _______ tourist, that in the State of Washington, she was liable for opening the door into an oncoming car. Remember, all I had done was pull up to the hotel and park, something I have done thousands of times over 30 years.
But since I told her and her friends something new to them, and potentially consequential, the good ladies, just like the good citizens in Jackson's story, began throwing stones, wanting to kill me while emotionally embracing the young woman who had nearly killed one of their party, thus ruining their Northwest vacation.
It was an amazing performance, made even more amazing because they were following a natural script, instinctively knowing their lines and parts. AsI keep saying, taxi driving provides a front row seat to all varieties of human behavior, in this case spontaneous theater composed and directed by anger and hatred. But if you think my ticket was free, think again, my cost of admission more than I could ever or want to afford, the cabbie paying, paying and paying some more to the end of known time!
Postscript 09/14/2017: More Pattern
In last week's posting, I inferred how the downtrodden are stepped upon by those in power, by those who have lots of money, or by people simply marginalizing others for no other reason than they can, their victims defenseless, unable to protect either themselves or their interests. Two good/bad examples of these kinds of behavior came to light last week, one featured in the New York Times; the other in reports about Houston, Texas and Hurricane Harvey's aftermath. Another comes from the most recent economic report concerning American income.
The NY Times article compared corporate eras, featuring a former Kodak (Rochester, NewYork) janitor, who through company care and assistance rose to to become an executive in various companies over the years; and a current janitor working in Cupertino, CA cleaning Apple offices. One was given opportunity while the other seems fated to work herself to death, making $16.00 per hour and paying over $2000.00 a month for rent. I know Cupertino because it was the home of my ex-in-laws, eventually moving their business from Saratoga to Cupertino. I have to laugh at the fact that the great American folk singer, Joan Baez, that battler for human rights, and once married to a jailed Vietnam War-era conscientious objector, David Harris, was for a period of time, the lover of Apple founder Steve Jobs. Remember, you read it here first!
And the big hearted Houston-based companies, enjoying a combined 7 billion dollar tax break from the city, announced that they would be donating 65 million for post-Harvey cleanup. Do the math and you will find 65 million divided into 7 billion 107 times, meaning the percentage of aid is low, and I am not even talking about annual combined corporate profits.
And one other piece of news is that combined American annual household income is at its highest level ever, $59.000. While at first glance seemingly a great pronouncement for all things American Capitalism, divide that number by 2 working people comprising that household and you come up with $29,500 each, showing you just how much money people are truly making. Dividing 2,080 working hours (based on 52 40 hour weeks) into $29,500, and you see that folks are working for just over $14.00 per hour. Last week I showed how the Federal minimum wage increased by just about 88 cents per decade. Taking the figure of $14.00 per hour, that shows an increase of $1.76 per decade since 1938. Real impressive, wouldn't you say, the richer getting richer, and the poor and working class fools, why they are just quietly buried six feet under, that's all.
It is clear that this pattern of financial inequality is entrenched, and as is the case currently throughout the USA, stridently defended by the worker drones, ever so happy swilling beer and watching football players delivering brain disease causing blows to each other's heads. Ain't life fun in America? Sure it is, and I am just a complete asshole for implying otherwise. Go 'Hawks! pound those hated 49er's into the turf!
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