halloweekend, part deux

THE FIESTY GIRL IN THE DEVIL HORNS WASN'T HAPPY SINGING ALONG to Neil Diamond just once.

"One more time! C'mon, let's hear it again!"

And with that I hit the seek button, returning us to song #13 on the CD mix I made hours before heading off into the Halloween eve night. Before I know it, the ladies you see before you are giddily diving into one more lively round of "Sweet Caroline."

Where it began, I can't begin to know when
But then I know it's growing strong

I went online a few days ago to see what people were calling "the greatest karaoke songs of all-time." I didn't do much digging beyond this list, which led to me adding "Sweet Caroline" (#1 on the list) to today's CD mix. (I still say "Don't Stop Believing," which only comes in at #6 on this dubious list, is the all-time crowd pleaser.)

After the quartet of local co-workers tire of a 3rd round of "Sweet Caroline," I get to find out where these rowdy strangers are from. I soon learn that Devil Woman is from California.

"What part?" I ask, always just a little more excited when I find out a new passenger is from my home state. Maybe I'm waiting for that moment when we discover we've got a friend in common. Or the moment I realize I've pit stopped in their hometown. I've been to or through seemingly every town in California. I'm sure there are a few I've missed. But not many.

"Southern California," she pipes up from the back, just as vague as I usually am when asked what part of California I'm from. I chalk it up to LA guilt.

"Me, too!" I tell her, trying to contain my excitement. "What part?"

"Orange County," she says. "Well, actually, San Dimas."

"San Dimas?!" I cry out, making zero effort to contain my excitement.

Ah, San Dimas. Land of Bill & Ted, Raging Waters and my old friend Sly Mee. Home to Brackett Field airport and Puddingstone Lake, where I learned to water ski as a child. San Dimas. Flanked between La Verne to the east — home to Sister Jeni, my most excellent bro-in-law Warren, and their beautiful boys — and Covina to the west, the town I grew up in and home to my awesome pa and wise stepma Bonita.

"Yeah, I grew up in San Dimas, really," the Devil Woman confirms. "My dad moved us there when I was in 5th grade. Do you know San Dimas?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am. I know it well."

San Dimas. In the back of my cab.

On Halloween. In Austin.

Keepin' it weird.



When these guys first spotted the Bobcab rolling down 5th Street after last call, they figured they could just jump into my empty taxi. The problem was, I was on my way to pick up a new, potentially regular, customer around the corner who'd called for a ride.

After I delivered the news that I wasn't gonna be able to give them a ride, this mad posse of high-end ruffians made faces not unlike the ones they're making in this photo. Only they were sincere.

"C'mon, dude," said the Angry Viking. "I'll pay you double whatever they were gonna pay you. Seriously. Let's go. I'll triple it!"

Unfortunately, I was now stopped at a red light. So I was all but obliged to respond to his tantalizing offer.

"C'mon, man. I gotta pick these people up. They called me 20 minutes ago. How would you feel if you called and expected a ride from me, but I blew you off 'cause I got a better offer? I'm trying to have some integrity doing this job, dude. And it ain't always easy, trust me."

That seemed to calm the Viking down. But the light turned green and I didn't stick around for confirmation. What I did confirm, however, was that the Potentially Regular Customer I was on my way to get was not picking up her phone. After 3 unsuccessful attempts to reach her, I u-turned in a nearby parking lot and set off looking for the Angry Viking and his tribe.

When I spotted them just off of 5th Street on Nueces I pulled over, leaned towards the open passenger window and yelled out, "You guys need a ride!"

And before I knew it, I had a cabload of the happiest angry Vikings and hipster vampires you ever did see. Thanks for selling the menace and terror in the photo, folks!


I picked up these crazy kids thanks to a call I go from dispatch. People often wonder how the hell these strangers end up in my cab. Well, there are pretty much 5 ways in which this could happen:

1) Dispatch. The cell phone I was given by the cab company also receives messages from home base. If you call the cab company looking for a ride, they'll either offer it up to me or one of my fellow cabbies on our company-issued cell phone. Or they'll announce it as an open call over the radio, which turns the whole thing into the cabbie version of Jeopardy! — first cabbie to hit the button on his car radio mic and get through to dispatch wins the ride.

2) Hotels. Most hotels have parking spots reserved for cabs, a.k.a., "cab stands." These are good places to sit around during the day working on my laptop while I wait for a hotel guest to request my services. Some of these places even have free wi-fi.

3) Airport. At Austin's Bergstrom Airport there's a taxi holding area — a lot that holds maybe 100 cabs — not far from the terminals. This is another good place to get work done while waiting for the more lucrative airport fares. It's also a good place to get a glimpse of my fellow Austin cabbies, most of whom appear to be from lands far, far away. (The white cabbie in Austin, as it is in many American cities, is an anomoly. Why is this?)

4) Driving around. Austin isn't like New York City by any stretch of the imagination. There's a fair amount of foot traffic, especially at night from Thursday through Saturday. But it's nothing like Manhattan. So driving around town looking for the random customer flagging you down can feel like a waste of time. Unless it's the weekend and the bars have just closed. Then every drunk in town is clamoring for your services, some not so politely, like a pack of Hispanic immigrants looking for work at a Hollywood Home Depot. It's during these moments that my patience gets supremely tested. Can you say ommmmmm....

5) Regulars. I made some business cards and damn if those suckers haven't been getting me a whole bunch of business. I've got a party busload of very cool, very entertaining regulars and semi-regulars already. Maybe one day I'll have enough regulars so I won't have to do laps around 6th Street at 3 a.m. like a vulture cruising for a desert carcass.

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The couple you see in the above photo were on their way to see a psychedelic band from San Francisco at Mohawk. Apparently the lead singer for Wooden Shjips (yes, that's how it's spelled) reminds folks of Jim Morrison. On the drive to Red River I found out these guys were also huge classic rock fans. I love being reminded that today's college kids are open to embracing Hendrix, Morrison, Joplin and the other greats from 40+ years ago.

"I was just listening to Led Zeppelin today," the Young '70s Girl spoke up from the backseat. "I think 'When the Levee Breaks' is my favorite Zeppelin tune. I just love that song."

Her date and I immediately chimed in with our favorite Zeppelin tunes. I copped to "Over the Hills and Far Away." I think Velvet Shirt Kid said he was partial to "Dancing Days." As the three of us played our favorite Zeppelin tunes in our head, Young '70s Girl broke the silence.

"I have chills right now just thinking about it," she confessed.

Something about Austin and music seems to bring out a lot of those "I have chills right now" moments.


It wouldn't be Halloween without at least 1 encounter with Superman, whose flying powers were apparently on the blink this night. Superman and his buddies — Lara "I Don't Want To Show My Face" Croft and Rafael "I Lost My Tennis Racket Earlier Tonight" Nadel — jumped in my cab at south Congress and Riverside long after last call.

Which led to an interesting only-on-Halloween moment seconds later as we rolled up Riverside Drive towards the highway.

"Hey," I called back to my passengers, "is that Andre Agassi?"

I pointed across the street to a tennis racket-wielding party dude in skin tight tennis duds and a retro Agassi wig, back when Andre rocked the spiked mullet 'do.

"Yo!" I yelled across the street. "Andre! I got Rafael Nadal in the car and he says he could kick your ass!"

Superman and his gang cracked up in the back. Meanwhile, Mullet Agassi was crossing the street, headed our way, oblivious to exactly what I was saying. I soon realize he's thinking I'm offering him a ride in my cab.

"Hey, Andre," I said as he crossed the median, "Rafael Nadal is in here and he'd love to let you share a cab. And for me, personally, it would be an honor to have 2 tennis greats in my cab at the same time. Where you going?"

"South 1st and Oltorf."

"Can't do it," I told him. "I'm taking these guys to the east side."

And with that, I gunned it. Eastbound and down.

"Sorry, Andre!" I yelled out into the night. "I tried! Happy Halloween!"

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COMING SOON: the 3rd and final installment of "halloweekend." Y'all come back now, y'hear.

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halloweekend

SATURDAY NIGHT HAD ALL THE MAKINGS OF AN EXCRUCIATING evening. From the worst downtown gridlock I've yet to see in Austin thanks to Halloween AND the conclusion of the first UT night game of the football season, to the sweet smell of vomit hanging in the air.

But the optimist in me was thinking — "Hot damn, it's Halloween!"

I'm a big fan of Halloween. Not for all the ghosts and goblin business. I'm a fan of the costumes and the candy. I'm a chronic people watcher as it is. But you put an entire city in costume and I can't help but be mesmerized.

And when that city is Austin? Please. The city that embraces the "Keep Austin Weird" mantra was bound to have a top-notch Halloween scene.

That's what Carl and his lady friends had heard, anyway.

Carl is the smiling serial killer in the above photo, surrounded by the zombie family he whacked. This is their first Halloween in America. Carl and his mates are all from Sweden, a country that doesn't celebrate Halloween like us crazy Americans. Carl and his 3 friends are all here on student visas. (Carl is taking classes for his MBA at UT's acclaimed business school.) These 4 friendly foreigners have been regular Bobcab customers since the summertime, when they eagerly explored the 6th Street scene on a semi-regular basis.

By the end of the year they'll all be back home in Sweden. Sucks for me.

Our many trips to assorted bars, restaurants, house parties and dinners with Swedish dignitaries have given me the opportunity to discuss Abba and Swedish politics with Swedes in the know. You haven't lived until you've debated the failure of capitalism and the merits of socialism with a Swedish serial killer — which is how I kicked off my Halloween weekend Saturday night.

"You guys think you'll ever come back here?" I asked the two girls scheduled to leave by the end of the month.

"Oh, yeah."

"We love Austin."

"Of course you do," I add, not the first time I'd heard that one. "Everybody loves Austin."

The voices were coming from the back. In the rearview mirror I only saw zombie eyes illuminated by passing headlights.

"We're gonna go home and get jobs..."

"...and work to save enough money to come back to Austin."

Y'all hurry back.

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I told Carl and his clan of my plan soon after they got into my cab.

"You guys are under no obligation to agree to this, but I'm asking everyone who gets in my taxi this weekend wearing a costume if they'd mind posing for a picture."

Luckily, most people were more than happy to participate. I didn't ask everybody. A few times I either forgot or wasn't feeling the vibe. But here are some of the good people who happily climbed in and out of my cab this weekend and agreed to a quick photo op:


Sure, that's clearly Cruella DeVille and 4 of her 101 dalmations. But the quartet of spotted creatures were traveling sans Cruella when they jumped in my cab at the corner of 6th and Guadalupe.

So of course I thought they were a pack of mad cows.

"Yeah, we've been getting that all night," the UT law student told me. "People think we're the Chic-fil-A cows."

No word on where the hell cross-dressing Cruella was. Oil Can Harry's?


Not sure what the girl on the left is supposed to be. Any guesses? But the girl on the left is clearly — or so she told me — a Q-tip. She was also one of the few ladies in town to avoid the urge to add the sexy/slutty twist to her costume by showing lots of skin.

Kudos to you Q-tip Girl!


I love the glares Alex and his friends are getting from the girls — or is that a guy/girl couple? — on the right. (Click on the photo to see what I'm talking about.) Are they trying to figure out what Alex's costume was?

Yeah, me, too.

"We tried to shave my head into a mullet," explained Alex, another one of my west campus regulars from way back. "But it didn't work out so well."

"Dude, your hair's not long enough for a mullet," I pointed out. "Now I could grow a mullet. And don't think at some point in my life I didn't."

"Yeah, well I can't. So..."

"So now what's your costume?"

"Now I'm just going as an idiot."


I picked these fine ladies up on Red River. They'd been unsuccessfully trying to get a cab for a good long time and were resigned to walking back to their hotel when I pulled a u-turn in front of Mohawk to get them.

So they were mighty grateful when I showed up. That's one of the fringe benefits of driving a taxi — making people instantly happy. And the longer they've been waiting for a cab, the happier they are.

That's Rainbow Bright on the left. She and her friend drove out for Halloween, I think from Houston. Or was it San Antonio? Or Dallas? All I know is, Austin is a place where folks from all over Texas show up for Halloween.

And Rainbow Bright's friend?

"You ever watch that game show 'Change of Heart?'" she asked when I inquired about her "costume."

"Yeah, I think so."

"It was only on for a couple seasons," she explained. "But I loved it. So I decided to go as a contestant from 'Change of Heart.' What do you think?"

What do I think? I think an orange top, matching orange pumps and a color xerox do not a costume make.

But who am I to judge? I was wearing a bowling shirt with an embroidered "Bob" on the pocket in a half-hearted attempt at transforming into The Dude from The Big Lebowski.

The Dude abides.



Yes, that's a heaven and hell sandwich — with a Karate Kid filling. I might need to call on the panty-less angel and her posse to be my eyewitnesses in court if a little incident which occurred that night gets twisted into a lie.

Minutes before this photo was snapped I was involved in an "accident." At least, that's what my superiors at the cab company are calling it. Seems ridiculous to call it that when I was parked and the car that hit me traveled about 5 feet before it barreled into my 2 driver's side doors.

Things were crazy busy at the time. It was around 9:30 and I had multiple customers waiting on me. Plus the guy who ran into me was in a BIG hurry. So I wrote down all his info — driver's license, insurance details, etc. — and continued on with my night.

What I didn't do was call the police. Nor did I get on the radio and let the cab company know what happened. I figured I'd take care of everything come Monday.

But Monday the guy who deals with this sort of thing at the cab company was shaking his head.

"How many jobs you had?" he said, looking at me like I was the biggest idiot in Texas. "That's the kinda thing you get fired for around here."

I let him know I'd already spoken with the guy's insurance company. It's an open-and-shut case. The evidence is indisputable. And I've got witnesses — a buxom angel, an almond-eyed devil and the Karate Kid...who, upon closer inspection, might not be much help.

As of today, I still have a job. We'll keep you posted.

More Halloween pics and recollections tomorrow...

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