I moved to D.C. from Denver by way of Los Angeles. It's definitely been an interesting road.
But, I am really overwhelmed here by the amount of people who are struggling due to homelessness. Working in the Nation's Capitol, I'm sure that I have passed by a Senator or Congressman or Congresswoman who has seen the same people I have who are struggling. I'll admit, I walk pass 'them' and try not to make eye contact. But, I've also made eye contact, for example, when a woman asked me for some lotion and body wash... I bought it for her, but it made me wonder, does anyone make eye contact? Real, legit, eye contact. The kind of eye contact that says: I want to help you, what can I do for you today? Even if you already passed three people who are asking for something. Do our nation's leaders make eye contact?
The divide among those who have and those who, kinda have something, but not enough to live off the streets is a cry to attention. I'd imagine that there is no bill headed to Congress that says how can we help the people who need our help the most. The most are those who lost their home and are on the streets or those who have been on the streets for years.
This situation is not new. I'm not the first person to think about this nor the last, but how can one not think about it?
When is capitalism not King?
Could the people who say it isn't be the so called 'one percent'?
Anyway, I have to catch a train, so for now I'll digress.
Oh yeah, BTW, what do you think?
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Saturday, January 14, 2012
UNTITLED CAB PROJECT, part 5
I usually don't look at who's driving when I get in the cab. I sit down, and mutter 'I'm going to Penn Station' or 'Penn Station, please'. Then, I look for my wallet in my Longchamps bag and take out seven dollars.
"It's a flat rate to Penn Station, six dollars. Ok?"
The wool, light pink coat, looked like it hadn't been cleaned since last winter. Can you imagine a faded- looking light pink coat? Maybe the fabric just looked worn, but why wear a pretty coat like that in a filthy cab. Answer 1: It's not new. Answer 2: she doesn't care. The coat, not her face, was in my direct line of sight. I looked up from my purse and saw her start the engine. We didn't make eye contact. Not even in the rear view mirror, so I was stuck with my second first impression of her. Her hair. It could have been styled, it was combed, but frazzled, like she'd just scratched the back of her scalp and didn't care to finesse it back into place.
There were no colored tree fresheners in the cabin, just the smell with out them - a neutral... funk. A defense mechanism for riders who have the potential to make her job unsafe. If she was at all 'dolled up' or wore perfume to pick up random riders, the tack-less bottom feeders of the world may take it as come-on. "Yeah, you can take me to Chateau de Super 8'; how much will that cost?"
She laughed, "Really?" and said it wasn't dangerous after I told her she was the first woman cabbie I rode with.
An expensive, and the most efficient ride so far. No pun intended (for those bottom-feeders going there...). Just grateful for a cabbie who's no nonsense.
"It's a flat rate to Penn Station, six dollars. Ok?"
The wool, light pink coat, looked like it hadn't been cleaned since last winter. Can you imagine a faded- looking light pink coat? Maybe the fabric just looked worn, but why wear a pretty coat like that in a filthy cab. Answer 1: It's not new. Answer 2: she doesn't care. The coat, not her face, was in my direct line of sight. I looked up from my purse and saw her start the engine. We didn't make eye contact. Not even in the rear view mirror, so I was stuck with my second first impression of her. Her hair. It could have been styled, it was combed, but frazzled, like she'd just scratched the back of her scalp and didn't care to finesse it back into place.
There were no colored tree fresheners in the cabin, just the smell with out them - a neutral... funk. A defense mechanism for riders who have the potential to make her job unsafe. If she was at all 'dolled up' or wore perfume to pick up random riders, the tack-less bottom feeders of the world may take it as come-on. "Yeah, you can take me to Chateau de Super 8'; how much will that cost?"
She laughed, "Really?" and said it wasn't dangerous after I told her she was the first woman cabbie I rode with.
An expensive, and the most efficient ride so far. No pun intended (for those bottom-feeders going there...). Just grateful for a cabbie who's no nonsense.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Saturday, January 7, 2012
UNTITLED CAB PROJECT, part 4
Greg wasn't in the line this morning. So, I had to settle for another driver.
The 'line' is the line of taxi cabs outside of the hotel each morning so it's pure happenstance that I get Greg's cab regularly. But, it usually depends on what train I take that day. If I take the 7:15 a.m. train, I have to be curbside by 7:00 or, 7:02 at the latest. If I take the 7:40, train then I leave the hotel at about 7:20. Greg is usually in line if I take the 7:15 train. It's purely timing. Then again, the concierge told me that some customers have such a repoire with a certain cab driver that they take the cab driver's name and number down and call them when they need a ride. Jim said, "I guess they really trust 'em."
I'm not sure that I want to do that yet. Greg is extremely likeable, but I still question the fact that he NEVER has change. It's definitely a hint at a tip. But, what's the tip for?... I do tip $.40-.60 each time I get in and out of the cab (I don't get my change back from him if I hand him a $10 and the fare is $9.40); I open and close the door; provide half of the conversation...
There is one cabbie that I've taken regularly. Greg would insist that I was cheating on him. An Indian cabbie. An older gentleman who says hello when I get in the cab, asks me where I'm going before I tell him, asks me how my new year was, he always has change, his door isn't broken. In fact, he told me how to get out of his cab - he's got a mini-van and you have to push the top lever to get out of the cab - very polite. If there was a bumper sticker on his cab it would say, "I appreciate your business", oh yeah, it'd have the smiley face too.
-----------------------------------
A few weeks ago, Jim cautioned me about cabbie's taking advantage of her riders. Some drivers "milk it". They drive below the speed limit so that the fare is a few dollars more. Really?
Yes, really. It's happened to me.
After a few weeks in the "game" I've figured out who they are the moment I sit in their cab. They usually ask me three times where I'm going (you've driven the cab long enough to know where the hotel is!). Take seconds longer to make the right turn out of the station -when the light is green - and drive ten miles below the speed limit. I get it. You want to squeeze the most money that you possibly can out of the rider. More money, more nice things for your wife, more things to give your children, more time you can spend with your family, the less likely it'll be that your cab becomes your office, a better shot at leaving the cab gig. Just like everyone else, we want more, better, best.
The 'line' is the line of taxi cabs outside of the hotel each morning so it's pure happenstance that I get Greg's cab regularly. But, it usually depends on what train I take that day. If I take the 7:15 a.m. train, I have to be curbside by 7:00 or, 7:02 at the latest. If I take the 7:40, train then I leave the hotel at about 7:20. Greg is usually in line if I take the 7:15 train. It's purely timing. Then again, the concierge told me that some customers have such a repoire with a certain cab driver that they take the cab driver's name and number down and call them when they need a ride. Jim said, "I guess they really trust 'em."
I'm not sure that I want to do that yet. Greg is extremely likeable, but I still question the fact that he NEVER has change. It's definitely a hint at a tip. But, what's the tip for?... I do tip $.40-.60 each time I get in and out of the cab (I don't get my change back from him if I hand him a $10 and the fare is $9.40); I open and close the door; provide half of the conversation...
There is one cabbie that I've taken regularly. Greg would insist that I was cheating on him. An Indian cabbie. An older gentleman who says hello when I get in the cab, asks me where I'm going before I tell him, asks me how my new year was, he always has change, his door isn't broken. In fact, he told me how to get out of his cab - he's got a mini-van and you have to push the top lever to get out of the cab - very polite. If there was a bumper sticker on his cab it would say, "I appreciate your business", oh yeah, it'd have the smiley face too.
-----------------------------------
A few weeks ago, Jim cautioned me about cabbie's taking advantage of her riders. Some drivers "milk it". They drive below the speed limit so that the fare is a few dollars more. Really?
Yes, really. It's happened to me.
After a few weeks in the "game" I've figured out who they are the moment I sit in their cab. They usually ask me three times where I'm going (you've driven the cab long enough to know where the hotel is!). Take seconds longer to make the right turn out of the station -when the light is green - and drive ten miles below the speed limit. I get it. You want to squeeze the most money that you possibly can out of the rider. More money, more nice things for your wife, more things to give your children, more time you can spend with your family, the less likely it'll be that your cab becomes your office, a better shot at leaving the cab gig. Just like everyone else, we want more, better, best.
Friday, December 30, 2011
UNTITLED CAB PROJECT, part 3
Greg's always got real-life advice for me. 'Smithy's' real name is Greg, btw. It's my third ride in his cab. Every thing's been consistent: he starts his car the moment he sees me appear from the hotel entrance, his back passenger door is still broken which means he has to open the door at the station to let me out, AND he never has any change! This time he says, "Have your children young 25 or so because, you know, you don't wanna be an old pops...well for you. You know what I mean. Older woman. All my kids are grown: I got two who are out of school; one who play basketball in Louisiana, at Southern out there and, uh. Yeah, you know. You look young, so....women sometimes have problems, you know, I'm not saying you will because you look young..."
He pauses to look out the window again. We get to a stop light and he has to stop suddenly to avoid running it. He was looking at a young woman crossing the street.
"...and, uh," he continues. "You look like you're about 23, 24. Right? How old are you?"
"I'm older than 24, Greg."
"Oh, you is? Well, I'm not gonna ask you your age because I'm from the South and I'm a gentleman. Gentleman aren't suppose to ask young ladies, er or grown women there age, you see.
Greg told me he was 45.
"You see I wanted to be a young father."
Yep, Greg, I see. I feel you.
He pauses to look out the window again. We get to a stop light and he has to stop suddenly to avoid running it. He was looking at a young woman crossing the street.
"...and, uh," he continues. "You look like you're about 23, 24. Right? How old are you?"
"I'm older than 24, Greg."
"Oh, you is? Well, I'm not gonna ask you your age because I'm from the South and I'm a gentleman. Gentleman aren't suppose to ask young ladies, er or grown women there age, you see.
Greg told me he was 45.
"You see I wanted to be a young father."
Yep, Greg, I see. I feel you.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
UNTITLED CAB PROJECT, part 1
For me, a good day or a bad day will depend on what the cab I jump in to in the morning smells like.
Seriously.
If it smells like the cabbie's been smoking, the ride will be jerky and unwavering, making me completely nauseous. But, the good thing is that the guy will usually be on his cellphone for most of the trip so, how much can I really complain.
A strong cologne smell is not just nauseating, but it covers whatever smell was in there before. Take your pick: Curry rice, Golubci and/or something with ham and cream of corn. Then, I end up smelling like the cabbie's cologne and my boyfriend's look is damning: "Really? You were mad at me when I stepped out on you ten years ago in college, when we 'separated'." This cabbie usually wants to talk - to hear himself talk - and asks you questions about political issues in his country that you would never be knowledgeable about even if you knew what the hell Russian broadcasters said or by happenstance typed rt.com into your browser.
It'll feel like the day won't end if the cabbie's rude. The Ethiopian cabbie -an Ethiopian flag was somewhere on the dashboard- wanted to drop me off on the side of the road and pick up another passenger because I only asked for a $7 cab ride and he assumed that the man with a suitcase walking on the sidewalk haling a cab was going to the airport which is a $45 cab ride. Wow. "Really?" I yelled. "No, you can't drop me off and pick him up!" He started driving two miles an hour after that just to make me mad and run up the meter.
[More to come...]
Seriously.
If it smells like the cabbie's been smoking, the ride will be jerky and unwavering, making me completely nauseous. But, the good thing is that the guy will usually be on his cellphone for most of the trip so, how much can I really complain.
A strong cologne smell is not just nauseating, but it covers whatever smell was in there before. Take your pick: Curry rice, Golubci and/or something with ham and cream of corn. Then, I end up smelling like the cabbie's cologne and my boyfriend's look is damning: "Really? You were mad at me when I stepped out on you ten years ago in college, when we 'separated'." This cabbie usually wants to talk - to hear himself talk - and asks you questions about political issues in his country that you would never be knowledgeable about even if you knew what the hell Russian broadcasters said or by happenstance typed rt.com into your browser.
It'll feel like the day won't end if the cabbie's rude. The Ethiopian cabbie -an Ethiopian flag was somewhere on the dashboard- wanted to drop me off on the side of the road and pick up another passenger because I only asked for a $7 cab ride and he assumed that the man with a suitcase walking on the sidewalk haling a cab was going to the airport which is a $45 cab ride. Wow. "Really?" I yelled. "No, you can't drop me off and pick him up!" He started driving two miles an hour after that just to make me mad and run up the meter.
[More to come...]
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Untitled Project
I've decided to write a book in small doses. Partly because it's easier to manage, plus the guarantee that I will actually finish writing it if I write a new part each day. I hope you'll read it as I write it (and hold me accountable). Look for a new portion of it each day.
For now it's called an UNTITLED PROJECT...by the end, I'll call it something else.
Rachael
For now it's called an UNTITLED PROJECT...by the end, I'll call it something else.
Rachael
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)