My Saturday night cab is in the shop with busted brakes. I have to find a spare cab to drive for the night and I pick the only one available. It smells real bad but if I don’t push it too much it’s all right. So I drive a cab with 310,000 miles and have to listen to every fare complain about the smell. I drive with the window open and listen to the World Series.
It’s a quiet night; most of my fares are woman running in the Nike women marathon tomorrow. They all ask me about the weather and I say it will be cool and foggy at 8am.
I don’t know if I was correct because I slept until noon. Friday was very busy and now Saturday is dead. I do get a ride to the Cow Palace for the Exotic Erotic ball; two women in negligee who complain to each other the whole way about who is going to carry whose keys in whose shoes. From there I get another woman going to Geary/23 who talks about Rome and all the great programming on HBO. Caesar is upset about seeing Pompeii’s’ head on a platter. The rest of the night I scrambled for fares and made it work by the end.
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