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Taxi Fragments (extracts from’ Tansceiver ‘ club mag of Cham
Night shift: 3.10.2010.
The road fell nicely behind as I glided along deserted roads, starting my relaxed trip home to Swan View
Tonight was a breath of fresh air after a very ‘muddy’ Saturday night shift. Not much money around but I deliberately placed myself a couple of times in spots where I knew that there would be waits, but waits that would ultimately result in a fare, doing this gives me time to do work on the laptop – usually Cham’s stuff.
The last fare of the evening for me, two attractive girls from Club Bay view to Warwick was a breath of fresh air. The conversation was almost completely with the girl sitting next to me whilst her friend who was only a week here from the UK sat quietly in the rear. Plenty of chat happening the girl confiding in me that she was a student lawyer. Chat commencing with the frequently expressed “how nice to have a lady driver, do you have any problems driving at night?”, then my habitual response of turning the focus back to them and asking them if they would like to drive a taxi night shift, invariably this turns into a conversation about what they do and this can take the focus off of my having to respond as a rule. This girl who tells me that her partner is a criminal barrister and her brother a minor criminal brings a little laugh to the night as the possibilities are contemplated.
Questions about my family from this girl as she wanted to know if I had a husband and how many children. As usual when asked this I present a ‘snapshot’ image of my two youngest daughters saying how nice it is to have them but, hey – nothing wrong when they leave because ‘then there is time for yourself again’. A nice girly goodnight and then the two girls ‘clip clop’ through my headlights on their trip to the front door.
Yup- sure a bit of a change from Saturday night’s shift when the ‘mud’ only got thicker and thicker!
A ‘great’ start to Saturday night to find that the Swan Taxi Dispatch system was down (and stayed that way for the first four hours!), being limited to ‘fleaing for jobs’ (an old expression to describe putting the taxi into physical situations to try to get fares instead of using a radio or similar), does not make one a whole lot of dough.
Instead of reiterating all of the events of the whole night, just mentioning two can give an idea of how enjoyable the whole night and these two were the last two of the last three jobs, the first being a job from Club Bay view to Sorrento.
Two girls and guys of around nineteen or so slipped into the car at Club and asked to go to Sorrento. No problems on the trip, just the usual conversation between the lot. As we got a street or two away from the destination I sense the guy behind me move his head forward a little closer to the rear of my headrest and for a moment I reflected on this but then became a little more refocused on exactly where I was dropping off. Suddenly a hand slides palm down to the rear of my neck, headed upwards in a direction where it would eventually find that I now wear a small ‘top-piece to thicken the thinned out hair of mine’. An outburst of girly indignation escapes my lips as I let him know in no uncertain terms, in response to his simultaneous question of, “Is that your own hair”, that indeed it is and what the hell is he playing at, playing with my hair without being given permission! I am still not sure whether or not he or the others had picked me as transgendered for as likely as it sounds that they had my response I think was VERY much in character and the reactions coming back were quite chastened, all left the car very quietly with the other guy who paid me apologizing for his friend?!
As this was getting towards the end of the Sunday night the next job which came up immediately was a fortunate one for it took me to City beach, therefore lining me up immediately for the patrons leaving a closing Club Bay view. On a Sunday night this usually signals an end to the bulk of a Sunday night’s work.
Before getting as far as Swanbourne on the way to ‘Club’, the system gives me a job in nearby Mount Claremont and I have two guys in front of me blowing smoke around as I wait impatiently for them to get in.
Only one of the guys in his mid thirties gets in and asks to go to Balga which is where the system had said he was going. On the way I get chatted, the usual conversation bits but with some questions about my having a husband (Yeh- again a ‘first sign’) – no wait! Not a first sign, for as he had climbed into the taxi he gives the outside of the top of my thigh a ‘friendly’ pat/rub, before I have time to say anything. On approach to the destination I get a second but firmer rub in the same place and this imitation octopus (bloody fast) asks me for a kiss to which I reply that I had told him I was married and —NOOO! Mr. Insistent asks again and I start to get irritated, quick as lightning he then at the same time as asking if am sure! goes for a quick squeeze/rub on the lower part of my left breast and now I start to read the feminine riot act (Twice in the space of an hour !!).
Although very annoying and the phrase ‘Not wanting to be treated as a piece of meat’ has flown to my lips when these sort of situations have arisen! have to say that the irony of the situation has each time given me a wry smile as my black sense of humor is revisited viz my memories of inflicting similar impositions on genetics during my disrespectful misspent youth- Karma at work eh!
Off trots amorous and I heave a sigh of relief, being in Balga I am aligned for the ride home to Swan View to take back the car, Haleluejah!
OUTA HERE for the next two days off—sighs of relief.
Claire Bear. Coordinator, Chameleons W.A. -
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