There's an element to this work I've neglected to mention. Actually, there's a lot about driving a taxi I haven't gotten to yet in these anecdotes. Maybe it's the job, maybe it's this place...maybe I'll just tell the stories and let you judge for yourself.
There is something funny about Peoria. You can't really put your finger on it, or articulate it...but you can feel it. I heard a rumor that even the Native American inhabitants of the Central Illinois River valley labeled it a place for passing through, not settling. Strange vibes.
Sometimes you pick up on things. Little windows into worlds you've never known. Mostly the customers take you there, to their respective worlds. I've found the key to surviving is adapting to whatever you find there. Strut fearlessly like you're wearing a big fucking shirt that says "Don't hassle me, I'm local." If you believe it, so will they.
No two trips are exactly alike, but some are extra special. Weird shit happens so regularly, I have lost sense of it. It's all weird, and most of the time I don't realize it until I'm remembering what happened.
I picked up a black guy I don't remember well and a muscular white guy with a shaved head and a goatee. He did most of the talking, which is why I remember him and not the black guy...I'm not racist.
"Hey, what's up, my man?"
"Not much. Where you headed?"
"Don't worry about it, just head up to OSF."
"Is that all?" I asked, because I knew it wasn't.
"No, we're picking up a friend," he said. He was direct when he spoke, almost impatient. Like he wasn't completely pissed off yet, but he was on the verge of it all the time.
"Well I need an address."
"Just say OSF. Here's a twenty," he said, handing it to me. "Just get going."
I took the money and we sped a few blocks over to the Hospital. I wasn't worried, but the guy was intimidating. Not in his size, he was ripped, but not huge. Intimidation is in the eyes. One look from him and I knew he was an unstable and probably violent man.
We picked up a petite, short haired nurse and all I could think was "What the fuck is she doing here?"
"Where is it?" he asked. From the moment she got in there was an unspoken sexual struggle going on between the two of them. He acted like her possessive asshole boyfriend but she certainly wasn't his girlfriend. She was timid toward him, politely evasive, yet submissive.
"In the North parking deck."
"North parking deck," he echoed.
"Alright," I said.
There was silence for a brief moment, I was hoping it'd last the duration, I wasn't so lucky.
"We're going to pick up my car," he said proudly.
"Is that right?"
"Yeah, that's right. She parked it right over there for me. In the North parking deck."
"Oh," I said, trying to come up with a proper response. "What kind of car is it?"
"Chevy..." he trailed off looking to her.
"Cavalier. It's a white cavalier on the second level," she said.
I knew he was a criminal and I was starting to think she owed him a lot of money. Maybe for drugs. Maybe for something else.
They directed me around the concrete maze to a white Cavalier and I parked behind it. I gave the total, he told me to keep the twenty and they began piling out of the backseat. The girl was the last to get out and at the last moment I asked "Are you alright?"
"I'll be fine," she said, closing the door. I wanted to help, but as i drove away, part of me was grateful the trip was over. Maybe it's better not to get involved.
Good tunes, good times.
The hours go faster since I invested in an MP3 player. I put as much free music on it as I can in my time off when I'm not sleeping. I only say it that way because that isn't much time at all. So that rotation has been pretty steady lately, with a few songs being added whenever I get a chance.
I feel I've assembled a pretty good list of songs to be played randomly throughout the twelve hour shift. I have ecclectic taste, so I can usually find something the customer can relate to. "Good tunes, man," they say. Yes they are.
How can you not enjoy weaving between cars at high speed with Danny Elfman's Spider-man score blasting all around you? Windows down, wind rushing past, you barely make a yellow about to turn red, changing lanes and whizzing past the timid brake lights of a mini-van just as the song peaks...and it could be Batman or Back to the Future, or Indiana Jones, they all work.
There are other obvious choices like Radar Love, Ruff Ryders Anthem, Wanted Dead or Alive...it's really quite a spectrum. Lots of Beatles and Creedence. Also, a lot of ironically awesome choices thrown in there just to keep people on there toes. There's nothing like blasting Age of Aquarius in downtown Peoria at 3:30 AM with a hundred drunk crazies running around. And then you pick up the one Bradley dude who actually knows that song and loves it, and you get a fat tip. That's how it works.
At first I didn't have an adapter, so I couldn't share the wealth with the customers. But I used headphones when they weren't in the car...cops didn't seem to mind, but it just wasn't working out. So, I bought an adapter with an FM transmitter that plugs into the cigarette lighter. The only problem was none of the lighters functioned in the cabs, so that was money well spent.
Soon enough they started putting me in a cab with a tape deck, I bought a ten dollar piece of plastic and I was in business.
I still have trouble remembering to charge it at the end of the night. It sucks when I run out of juice...the radio now leaves this reporter cold, and empty.
Late one night, after the mp3 player was drained and useless, I had it sitting in the passenger seat when a young Hispanic and his vivacious girlfriend got in the back. Their friend was in a sport jacket and he sat up front, much to my dismay. He was in his late 20's, possibly gay, as white as they come, with a Northern dialect.
"We're going to the Radisson," the guy in the back said firmly.
"The fucking castle," the white guy said, "take us to the fucking castle." Which isn't quite as crazy as it sounds since that hotel does look kind of like a castle. "Is there alcohol?" Clearly, he didn't feel the night was finished.
"No."
"Fuck that. Let's FUCK!" he yelled. By this time I was already well on my way down Martin Luther King despite the non-stop hysterical screaming that was going on beside me.
"Where the fuck are we going? Where's the god damn party cabbie?!"
"I don't know, man."
"What do you mean you-don't-know--man?! This is fucking Peoria! P-Town! Party Town! Do something! Whip your fucking cock out!!"
"What's that noise?" I asked, slowing down. There was a clear clanking noise coming from outside the rear passenger door. They heard it too, so I quickly pulled over and they opened their doors.
At precisely the same moment the guy in the front seat grabbed a black wire hanging outside his door and the girl picked up what was left of the tape deck adapter and they played a short lived, blind game of tug of war, until the wire snapped and they handed me the pieces. I was just happy the player was unharmed.
Despite this minor tragedy, the comments and screaming kept up the rest of the trip. "Oh my god where are you taking us? Where are we going? What time is it? Are you going to kill us? Oh my god, where does this road go?" We pass a sign pointing toward the airport. "Why are we going to the Airport?! Are you fucking deporting us? Are you serious?!"
When we finally reached his hotel, he was kind enough to pay for his ride, the couple's ride to their destination, and a healthy tip...but only after insisting that the couple be allowed to fuck in the backseat. "How much would that cost?" he asked, switching to negotiation mode.
I told him I couldn't put a price tag on something like that, and I won't take any responsibility for what they do. He gave me a wad of money and the couple proceeded to dry hump and make out to appease him. Good times.
I feel I've assembled a pretty good list of songs to be played randomly throughout the twelve hour shift. I have ecclectic taste, so I can usually find something the customer can relate to. "Good tunes, man," they say. Yes they are.
How can you not enjoy weaving between cars at high speed with Danny Elfman's Spider-man score blasting all around you? Windows down, wind rushing past, you barely make a yellow about to turn red, changing lanes and whizzing past the timid brake lights of a mini-van just as the song peaks...and it could be Batman or Back to the Future, or Indiana Jones, they all work.
There are other obvious choices like Radar Love, Ruff Ryders Anthem, Wanted Dead or Alive...it's really quite a spectrum. Lots of Beatles and Creedence. Also, a lot of ironically awesome choices thrown in there just to keep people on there toes. There's nothing like blasting Age of Aquarius in downtown Peoria at 3:30 AM with a hundred drunk crazies running around. And then you pick up the one Bradley dude who actually knows that song and loves it, and you get a fat tip. That's how it works.
At first I didn't have an adapter, so I couldn't share the wealth with the customers. But I used headphones when they weren't in the car...cops didn't seem to mind, but it just wasn't working out. So, I bought an adapter with an FM transmitter that plugs into the cigarette lighter. The only problem was none of the lighters functioned in the cabs, so that was money well spent.
Soon enough they started putting me in a cab with a tape deck, I bought a ten dollar piece of plastic and I was in business.
I still have trouble remembering to charge it at the end of the night. It sucks when I run out of juice...the radio now leaves this reporter cold, and empty.
Late one night, after the mp3 player was drained and useless, I had it sitting in the passenger seat when a young Hispanic and his vivacious girlfriend got in the back. Their friend was in a sport jacket and he sat up front, much to my dismay. He was in his late 20's, possibly gay, as white as they come, with a Northern dialect.
"We're going to the Radisson," the guy in the back said firmly.
"The fucking castle," the white guy said, "take us to the fucking castle." Which isn't quite as crazy as it sounds since that hotel does look kind of like a castle. "Is there alcohol?" Clearly, he didn't feel the night was finished.
"No."
"Fuck that. Let's FUCK!" he yelled. By this time I was already well on my way down Martin Luther King despite the non-stop hysterical screaming that was going on beside me.
"Where the fuck are we going? Where's the god damn party cabbie?!"
"I don't know, man."
"What do you mean you-don't-know--man?! This is fucking Peoria! P-Town! Party Town! Do something! Whip your fucking cock out!!"
"What's that noise?" I asked, slowing down. There was a clear clanking noise coming from outside the rear passenger door. They heard it too, so I quickly pulled over and they opened their doors.
At precisely the same moment the guy in the front seat grabbed a black wire hanging outside his door and the girl picked up what was left of the tape deck adapter and they played a short lived, blind game of tug of war, until the wire snapped and they handed me the pieces. I was just happy the player was unharmed.
Despite this minor tragedy, the comments and screaming kept up the rest of the trip. "Oh my god where are you taking us? Where are we going? What time is it? Are you going to kill us? Oh my god, where does this road go?" We pass a sign pointing toward the airport. "Why are we going to the Airport?! Are you fucking deporting us? Are you serious?!"
When we finally reached his hotel, he was kind enough to pay for his ride, the couple's ride to their destination, and a healthy tip...but only after insisting that the couple be allowed to fuck in the backseat. "How much would that cost?" he asked, switching to negotiation mode.
I told him I couldn't put a price tag on something like that, and I won't take any responsibility for what they do. He gave me a wad of money and the couple proceeded to dry hump and make out to appease him. Good times.
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