Parliament was sitting on Wednesday night so I anticipated a busy shift. However, it was not to be. I only did one job between 3pm and 5pm; I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Things did pick up for me as the night wore on.
Around about 9pm, I got a radio job from David Street in O'Connor. I arrived at the address and the house there in front of me was an old 1950s brick home with hedges that needed trimming, and grass that needed mowing. I wondered what kind of ice addict would emerge from the house. Low and behold, a stunning blonde emerged, and she sat in the front seat. Clearly, she hadn't heard how sleazy most taxi drivers could be.
She asked to be driven to Fitzroy Street, and I had a vague idea where it was. "Near Telopea Park High School?" I asked.
"Yes," she replied in an accent, "But why don't you use your GPS."
"A GPS is for Indians and Pakistanis. I've lived here 37 years, I know my way round."
"Are you a racist?"
"No," I replied, "But an Indian couldn't get you to Parliament House from here without a GPS. There's a difference between racial stereotyping and being a racist."
"I believe they're one and the same thing."
"So call me a racist, but you're not from here are you?"
"No, I'm from Sweden, I've been out here, teaching the new IKEA employees, the IKEA way."
"Interesting, yes, I've been out to IKEA a few times, there's some good stuff out there." We chat for a while about IKEA and the basis for its success here in Australia and abroad. I can tell she is very bright but she tells me she never went to University; she just did an IKEA defacto Diploma. I drop her off and I tell her she is not only one of the most beautiful women I've ever had in my cab, but also one of the smartest. I hope she invites me up for a drink but she meekly smiles and says thankyou. I've told about twenty women that they are the most beautiful woman I've ever had in the cab. All of them believe me; however, none has asked for my number or invited me up for a drink. It's a one in a million chance, I know, but I'm willing to take it.
I few fares later, I arrive at Casino Rank and there are four taxis in front of me. It's going to be a long wait for a job. The usual suspects are there: Polish Chris, Fat Bluey and Burmese Ming. A notable absence is Old Bobbie - he has been battling cancer and we surmise that he is probably sick in bed. After an hour and a half, I finally get a job. I am really pissed off when I find out it is just up the road to the Space Apartments on Northbourne The lottery of taxi driving.
After dropping him off I get a radio job to North Lyneham. I arrive at the Government Housing house. Out come two knockabout blokes in their early twenties. I think about charging them up front but when they tell me it's just down to Dickson servo for some cigarettes, I decide not to. After arriving at the servo, they grab some cigarettes, chocolate milk and chips, they get back in the cab and ask to be driven to Maccas. While we are waiting for the food to be made we enter into a little heated conversation.
"Is this going to be your last fare of the night?" one of them asks.
"If you pay me it will be." I reply. And this sets one of them off.
"Oh, fuck you cunt, we'll pay you. How do you know we are not going to pay you?"
"People from that street have ran off from me before."
"Oh fuck you, you can't tar everyone with the same brush." At that stage the meter was $24.60. I try and diffuse the situation and say, "Well, if you pay me now, I will only charge you $25."
"Ok asshole, you're on." And he hands over the $25. We have a bit of a laugh about how much a taxi costs and the situation is cooled. I drop them off and wish them all the best.
I start heading back to the Casino Rank and get another radio job. And wouldn't you know it, the pickup is Maccas. I was thinking it was going to be another Maccas run: someone has arrived at Maccas drive thru hoping to be served and they are told they need to be in a vehicle so they call a taxi. They just get in and then after they pickup the order they get out. They can be quite lucrative as they usually order big and Maccas usually takes twenty minutes to make the food.
I arrive at the Maccas and there is this hobo/muso looking bloke with two Aldi shopping bags. He gets in and asks to be driven to Lyneham.
"What's in the shopping bags?" I ask.
"Shopping." He replies. By this stage it is 2.30am.
"But Woolies closes at 11.00am, What have you been doing for three and a half hours."
"Just downloading youtube videos. I had to wait for the money to go into my bank account before I could get a taxi."
Strange man.
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