Three weddings and a funeral

It's the Yuletide season: a time for joy, peace, celebration and laughter.  This story isn't funny, it's a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions.

Meet Chris.  He's 70 years of age and has been driving cabs for ten years.  He is as fit as a fiddle and you can regularly find him on the ranks reading historical novels and playing his harmonica.  He moved to Canberra originally to train as a surveyor and mapped out vast areas of Canberra before turning his hand to taxi driving. Once a criminal tried to rob him and he had no fear even though the criminal pulled a knife on him.  He simply drove to the nearest servo and the criminal ran off.

He has been married three times, in his own words, he is a "mad rooter".  His first wife, whom was a librarian, was totally paranoid that someone was going to drop an atom bomb on Canberra. They moved down the coast for a while, before moving back to Canberra so that his first wife could find her destiny. His first wife was raised by the nuns who had told her that everyone has a destiny.  Before divorcing, they managed three kids, and all, unlike the author, are well adjusted individuals with proper careers and a future.  His first wife now has MS and lives a very lonely life.

His second wife was of Italian decent, and they had a child who now dances as a ballerina in London, New York and Paris.  She is living the dream. They divorced because she was not satisfied with the money that Chris was making as a surveyor.

Taking his second wife's advice, Chris moved to China to continue his surveying work, only this time he was going to be paid a lot more.  He met an interpreter, Maree, and they travelled through China for a year, surveying different parts of China before they finally became a couple.  Chris and Maree got married and returned to Australia where Chris started working as an taxi driver.

Maree bore Chris a daughter when Chris was 63 (he is a mad rooter).  I met their daughter once when Chris invited me around for dinner, trying to set me up with a Chinese lady who had recently separated from her Australian husband.  Chris' daughter was extremely intelligent for a seven year old.  She could play the violin and busked.  Sometimes she would make more money in a busking shift than Chris did in a taxi shift!

Then, out of the blue, Chris' daughter was killed in a car accident.  Now he just mops around ranks in misery, staring at a photo of his daughter and talking of his suicidal thoughts.  I try to cheer him up and say how much I value him as a person but it is to no avail.  Maree, who is a Buddhist, believes in reincarnation and wants another child, believing that their daughter will be reincarnated if they have another child.  However, Chris is not interested as he doesn't feel that he will have the energy to run around after a child.  They say that if a married couple lose a child, 70% of the time it will end in divorce.  I feel, but do not hope, that Chris and Maree are headed down the same path.

I wish you all the best Chris.  May you find happiness through your music, your reading, your mad rooting and your beating off of criminals despite your daughter's death.  Hope.

Getting a rise from a triathlette

One slow Saturday afternoon, I got a job from Kingston and raced to the address out of fear that the job would be stolen by another taxi driver as it was on a main road.  I cannot confirm or deny whether I broke the speed limit.  When I got to the address a fit looking bloke with a small suitcase and a laptop bag got in the taxi.  He said "Airport mate, I'm off to do a triathlon in New York with my girlfriend who lives there."  I gave my usual line of "No worries."  He asked me whether I had a girlfriend and I said "No, two years, plenty of dates but no luck yet."  He responded, "There's someone for everyone."

As we drove along he opened his laptop and started chatting with girlfriend via skype.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw that she was only wearing a bra and panties and, boy, was she fit.  They started chatting about the triathlon and then, all of a sudden, she flashed her landing strip which I caught out of the corner of my eye.  My passenger shouted "Boy, are you throwing this taxi driver a BONEr." I admit it got a rise out of the accelerator.

I like a landing strip,
a place to park my rocket.
But prefer a Tasmanian bush,
a place to hide my snake.

JE Pervert 2016.

Burma or Myanmar

You meet some pretty interesting characters when you work in the taxi industry.  One of the guys I met at the Airport and Casino ranks is Ming, or maybe its Minh, I'm not sure.  He's a real cheerful character who came to Australia from Burma.  I know it is Myanmar now but I'll still call it Burma.  Minh's English is quite good; some other Asians taxi drivers, particularly the Vietnamese ones, their English is quite poor and I have difficulty understanding them when I chat to them.  I asked Ming one night why his English is so good and he said that there are three basic subjects in Burmese schooling: Burmese, Mathematics and English.

Minh is a refugee.  He fought with the guerilla army in the Burmese countryside against the military dictatorship for seven years before escaping to Thailand where he was placed by the UNHCR in a refugee camp.  Obviously his claims for asylum were accepted and he was given a choice between three countries to go and live: USA, Canada and Australia.  He choose Australia because it was closer to Burma; he had hoped that the situation in Burma would improve and he could return.  Little do people know, I certainly didn't, that Burma during the 1950s and 1960s was a prosperous country where the Buddhists lived peaceful lives. Then the military came along and fucked it all up.

Minh works hard.  He does six nights a week, 12 hour shifts and then after that he does his cleaning jobs for two hours in the early hours of the morning. His wife works as a cleaner at a university as well, so they are able to pay off a mortgage and support their daughter who goes to university in Melbourne.  Ming hopes one day to go to university and study and get a better job.  I hope he does, he deserves it.

To Uber or not to Uber

Uber is coming to Canberra.  The Government is changing the relevant laws to allow Uber to operate in competition with taxis in Canberra.  A great number of people have commented to me on this while I have been driving a taxi and most people are fearful and are declining to use Uber.  The fears range from feeling unsafe to the belief that Uber drivers could be rapists or murderers.  With Govenment regulation of Uber a great number of these fears are unfounded.  Uber drivers, just like taxi drivers, will be subject to police checks and health checks and their cars will have to be insured and pass roadworthy once a year.

Competition is good in a liberal democratic capitlist society like ours.  I liken the arrival of Uber as akin to the arrival of Aldi to break to duopoly of Coles and Woolworths.  The introduction of Aldi forced both Coles and Woolworths to lower their prices and, as I see it, the taxi industry will be forced to lower their prices too.  If not, they will die a slow death, as eventually, companies and Governments will see the advantage in going with Uber to lower costs on travel.

For at least the short to medium term, taxis will have a number of advantages over Uber in the Canberra market place.  Only taxis can pick up at the Canberra Airport and at taxi ranks.  In addition, most companies and Government bodies pay by cabcharge vouchers and Uber drivers will not be able to use these barter systems.  I estimate that Airport pick ups, Government and company jobs, and rank work would comprise 65% of my daily work. Uber drivers will be advantaged by cheaper fares and will most likely be used by customers on long fares out to the fringe suburbs on a Friday and Saturday night.

Will I become an Uber driver?  Not yet.  I don't feel there is enough work going around in Canberra to justify the switch.  But eventually, unless the taxi industry lowers their fares, then I will be forced to go over to Uber because, as I have mentioned before, the taxi industry will die a slow death.

The crying cricket bat

Actors say you should never work with two things: children and animals.  Well, in my experience, the same goes for taxi driving. Animals are a pest in taxis, they either defecate on the seat or leave hair all over the place and you have to clean it up afterwards.  Children are another story altogether: either they are great or just a pain in the ass.

One afternoon picked up this woman in her thirties with a child about six.  I picked them up in Dickson and they asked to be driven to the city.  The child I immediately assumed was a recalcitrant because he refused to put on his seatbelt even though we were moving.  His mother then ordered him to put on his seatbelt and he started crying, exclaiming that it was uncomfortable.  His mother then said to the boy, “If you don’t put on your seatbelt the taxi driver will get very angry, and you know what happens when people get angry, you get hurt.”

“I don’t care, I’m not putting my seatbelt on.” cried the boy and he continued crying.  At this moment I pulled over, got out, opened the back boot and pulled out a cricket bat.  I opened the boy’s door and asked him “Who’s your favourite cricketer?”

“Michael Clarke” the boy replied.

“I like Michael Clarke too.  He plays a great pull shot doesn’t he?”

“Yes”.  The boy was still crying as he replied.

“Well, if you don’t put your seat belt on and stop crying, I’m going to play a pull shot on your bum and send you all the way back to Dickson.”

With that, the boy stopped crying, put his seatbelt on and waited for me to get back in the cab.  After I put the cricket bat back in the back boot, I winked at the mother and said, “Discipline is free of charge.”

"He's trying to kill me!!!"

One night a group of us taxi drivers were spinning a few yarns at the Airport.  The boys were loving my stories but Greg in TX555 topped it all off with his story.  Greg is an interesting guy, he subsidises his taxi income by speculating on the stock market and he is pretty successful.  He drives an Audi A4 2002 model and I take great joy in pissing on it when I get the chance!  Just kidding.

Greg had been working the Sunday double shift, starting at 4am in the morning and was due to finish at 12am.  It was 11pm and Greg was out at the Airport, he had had a shit day at the office and made next to no money at all.  The last flight was down at 12.30am and Greg decided to stay on despite the fact that he was feeling real tired.  He decided to go buy a red bull from a nearby service station to give himself some wings for his final fare. 

The plane touched down at 12.45am and by the time the passengers had got off the plane it was 1.00am before Greg finally got his fare.  Greg was relieved when the passenger asked to be driven out to the outer suburbs. 

Greg was feeling real tired during the fare; the red bull was beginning to lose its effect.  As he approached a roundabout, he fell into a microsleep, launched over the roundabout, taking out a sign with him along the way, and was jolted back to consciousness as he came back down the other side of the roundabout.  Greg retook control of the taxi and looked at the passenger.  The passenger had turned white and shouted at Greg, "Let me out of the taxi!"

Greg pulled over and let the passenger out.  The passenger got out of the taxi and started walking off.  Greg stayed where he was for 30 seconds trying to fathom what had happened, then he realised that the passenger had left his luggage in the taxi.  He drove after the passenger who was walking along the street and put the window down and called out to the passenger "Hey mate, come here."
The passenger took one look at Greg and started running, shouting at the top of his voice "He's trying to kill me! he's trying to kill me!"

Greg didn't know what to do next but decided to go home and put the suitcase with the items on ebay.  He did this and made $50 which he invested in mining shares, Poisedon Mark II.

The meth-head mower

Adelaide is a beautiful place, the city of churches and culture.  You have to know someone who knows someone to get a job there, but it is still a wonderful place.  It has a Mediterranean climate - long hot summers and cool wet winters.  Steve in TX13 was driving there for a while before he moved to Canberra and had a great time.   One summer, which was unusually wet and hot, resulting in the grass to grow a little longer than usual, Steve finished his shift and went to a mate's place to pull some bongs and play some darts. 

After about an hour of playing darts, the night was getting old, with the sun about to rise in a couple of hours, Steve and his mate, Jimmy, heard the sound of a lawnmower next door.  "What the fuck is that?" asked Steve. 
"Oh that's old mate meth-head Dave from next door.  He mows the lawn at all hours" replied Jimmy.
"But it's pitch black out there, I'm checking this out."

Steve went outside and peered over the fence.  Fair enough, there was meth-head Dave mowing the lawn with a torch gaffer-taped to the handle bars of the lawn mower.  Meth-man, stay away from it.