so many names to remember

“WHAT'S YOUR NAME AGAIN?"

“Bob, you do this to me EVERY time!”

“Dude, you’ve gotta sit in the front seat once or twice for me to remember you.”

“C’mon, Bob! It’s Spencer. You KNOW that!”

It’s after 2. The bars have just closed. And I’m in survival mode, dodging the hundreds of drunks flooding the streets of downtown Austin looking for a cab.

“I’ve got a better idea, Spencer. Let me take your picture so I can never forget that pretty face of yours.”

The double bird action was Spencer’s idea.

Hope the hook up was successful.

hot tamale

TODAY IS MY GIRLFRIEND'S BIRTHDAY. SO INSTEAD OF DRIVING MY cab on this fine Saturday night, I'm escorting Tamale to her cousin Caitlin's wedding. Of course, we're running late, so we'll get back to the stories in a day or two. Until then, here's a goofy music video we did with our friend Ahn-dee back in Laurel Canyon 6 months before we started dated.

Can you see the love in our eyes?



All hail Tamale!

"doe, a deer, a female deer..."

Here's a little video I shot today after I dropped some airport customers off in the hill country near 2222. (This is the first time I've shot footage and posted it on this blog. No laptop necessary!)

the start of SOMETHING

SUNDAY WAS QUITE THE DAY. MY NEW 2ND FAVORITE HOOPS team — sorry Texas, but I'm a lifelong Laker lover — won its first NBA championship. And I turned 50 years old.

As a gift to the new old me — holy shit, am I really 50?! — I promised myself I'd start writing more. I've been realizing more than ever that there's something missing — something important — when I'm not writing. There's too much brewing in my head, too much happening in my life, not to get it down in words. I realize that I need to write.

Has it really taken me 50 years to figure this out?

Then tonight I got another sign that it's time to scratch that itch. For the first time ever, I noticed a tab called "Stats" on the page where I write these entries and build these pages. Maybe the stats option has been around and I just hadn't noticed. I'm sure I could've tracked the numbers down if I'd dug around a little.

Yet for some reason I wasn't compelled to look. Even though when I first started blogging back in 2003 — TheGreatestYearOfMyLife.com felt like the Stone Age of blogging — I had a very visible attendance meter on the home page. And don't think I didn't check that number on a daily basis.

But up until tonight, I didn't care to check the numbers on this thing. I'm not sure why. Maybe I didn't want to feel the sting of rejection. Maybe I didn't want to be a slave to the page views. Maybe I was just too lazy to figure out how to fetch the numbers.

Then I saw that "Stats" tab. Now my competitive juices are flowing. Not to mention my numbers-obsessed inner math geek.

I haven't written regularly enough to have any expectations about having a regular, sizable audience. Back in October I had my busiest month, with 631 page views. This past April — two months removed from my last blog entry — saw my page views dip to an all-time low of 80. In May they actually went up, despite no new entries, with 89 page views. Those extra 9 no doubt came back wondering, "Is this bastard ever gonna write anything on here again?"

Hell yes, he is!

Now that I know where to find these numbers, I want to find out what would happen if I started writing on here regularly. As in every other day. We're at a measly 44 page views so far in June. But we've had 9 today — 2 since I started writing this thing — and I've got to think that a regular dose of these cab stories might get those numbers to spike.

Here are the 13 stories I'll be sharing over the next 26 days:

1) Seeing this guy on Friday the 13th at the new Moody Theater and the customer later that night who threatened to kill me before running off with my Flip video camera.

2) A cab ride with this kid the day before he flew back to L.A. to discuss declaring for the NBA draft with his family.

3) Hearing about going to Austin High with the Bush twins from this guy the night before he flew to L.A. to record his first album.

4) Picking up this couple hugging on the corner of Guadalupe and 5th the very night my sister Jeni and millions of other people tuned in to see who the lucky winner was on The Bachelor.

5) Several interesting cab rides during SXSW with the lead singer of this hot new band from New York.

Ah, hell, that's plenty to get me started right now. Every day driving a cab in Austin feels like there's a story worth sharing. But we don't want to overpromise. A blog entry every couple days shouldn't be impossible to pull off. Especially as we hit that stats tab and watch the numbers grow.

Before long, we might even be ready to explore the other new tab I noticed tonight. The one next to the stats tab that says "Monetize."

A guy can dream.

alright already

ENOUGH OF THIS INACTIVITY, THIS BLOG ABUSE, THIS DREADFUL procrastination bullshite.

I began the year thinking I'd be blogging every day I was in the cab — 2 or 3 times a week at the very least. Yet here we are, nearing the end of February and I've got all of 1 blog entry. ONE. In 7 weeks.

Not good.

And it's not as if nothing's happened. I had a young CIA agent tell me about his surveillance work recently. I had a sloppy drunk hairdresser ask me to go back to her Eastside apartment for some good times (no thanks) before leaving her wallet in the backseat of my cab. Last Saturday night I found myself inside a Texas State dorm room, 26 miles from Austin, trying to collect an $80 fare from an incoherent coed who kicked me in the shin after she refused to pay me. (An appearance by the cops eventually changed her mind.)

Plus I had my first experience with a customer puking in my cab.

Twice.

In the same night.

So it's not like I haven't had anything to write about. Which begs the question: Why the hell haven't I been writing? Too busy with other things — driving the cab, relationship time, other projects? Not quite. I've got at least an hour or 2 a day I can carve out to write something. Anything.

Am I afraid I've got nothing to say? Hardly. I've lived and witnessed countless stories, both during this 9-month run as a cabbie and beyond. Maybe it's a little like having a messy bedroom or an overstuffed garage. You want to clean it up, but it's just so full you don't know where to begin.

I do know that when the majority of my postings inspire 1 or 2 — if any — comments, my enthusiasm wanes. Most definitely. Then I think to myself, most of the time I read someone else's blog — which is shamefully infrequent, I'm not proud to admit — I'll read and run without stopping to leave so much as a "Nice job!" or "P-U!" in the comment box. So how can I fault anyone else for dropping by for a look, having a quick read and getting the hell out of Dodge?

I can't.

And yet...

I heard someone say recently — a writer? comedian? director? — that an artist, any creative person really, can't create just for himself. To complete the circle, whatever is being created requires an audience.

And judging from my malnourished comments sections, I've got none.

Over the last few months, however, I've gotten a fair amount of feedback — during conversations, via emails, in Facebook messages — from a wide assortment of readers, some of whom I was surprised to learn read this stuff. I even got some constructive criticism from a UT frat dude — a fellow SAE, no less — who claimed he spent a recent afternoon reading through every posting.

"The writing's really good," he told me. "No, seriously." Then he added. "I think you should write more stories." (You mean, like I'm NOT doing right now?)

He was advocating cranking out more "No way!" tales. "Write about the crazy shit that happens in the cab," he suggested during one drunken cab ride. "That's what we want to read. That's what's gonna keep us coming back."

Okay then. Give the people what they want. Let the stories begin. I'd be happy to take a crack at this suggestion. (With the right to take occasional detours into the dark night of the soul, remembrances of things past and seemingly inconsequential internal monologues.)

But I need to know someone is reading this stuff. So as of today I'm implementing a new admission price. If you should make it to the end of the day's entry, you are hereby asked (make that ordered for you S&M types) to leave a one-word answer to the Question of the Day.

For instance, today's QOTD is: What is your favorite number? (Faithful readers already know mine.)

C'mon, people. Participate. It won't take long. We're trying to spark a dialogue here. Work with me.

Keep this up and I'll supply you with a daily dose of video love from the Bobcab. Today's clip is a ride downtown with a trio of dancing Zetas. Thanks, ladies.

Jump around, y'all!

...

staying power

A NEW YEAR IS HERE. TIME TO TAKE STOCK. ASSESS THE SITUATION. Figure out what you want going forward.

I've been forced to take an even closer look for a few other reasons. Like the fact that I'm turning 50 in June. Or the fact Tamale and I celebrated our 4th anniversary deep into another New Year's Eve-turned-New Year's Day. Or the reality that I'm a writer-turned-cab driver in a strange new town, with a handful of creative projects I need to complete or embark on ASAP lest I spend the rest of my days driving a cab. (Yeah, it's fun and all, but...)

And then there was the Korean couple I picked up at the airport today. I ended up giving them a $50 ride home, so there was plenty of time for taxi cab conversation. Something the young wife, Olivia, asked stuck with me. A simple question that hit me from a different angle than it usually does.

"Do you think you'll stay here long?"

Usually I'll answer that question by saying how much I love Austin and how great my girlfriend is and how much I love her family and friends and the Hyde Park house we live in. However...

I've lived all my life — minus several extended road trips and a 9-month dream living on a tiny island in Canada — in Southern California. I love the beach, my family, my LA friends. "I'm not really the kind of person who has a master plan and looks too far into the future," is how I usually tie up that conversation.

But there was something about hearing that question today that hit me hard.

Will I be here long?

I'm certainly loving this town and most of the people in it. (Yes, I'm talking to you Cougar Woman.) Every day seems to show me another reason to love it. Today I'm loving the fact that my girlfriend is training for next month's Austin marathon — and the course runs directly in front of our house!

No doubt the events of the last week have facilitated this feeling that I'll be hunkering down here for a bit. Last Wednesday night I left Sister Jill & Todd's house in Temecula, 1300 miles and change from my destination. With a borrowed truck full of Bob. (Thanks for letting us take Old Brown, Cousin Todd!)

With Tamale safely back in Austin after our 2-day drive out (thanks, American Airlines), I was now hauling nearly 5 decades worth of stuff, shoved into the back of an American-made pick-up. Just over 26 hours later I rolled into our driveway, a couple hours past midnight.

With a wing and a prayer, I'd gone through 3 tarps, a couple dozen bungee cords and 30+ plastic bags to protect my belongings from the pouring rain, snow and dust storms I drove through to get back to Casa Verde.

Home.

Austin.

Think I'll stay awhile.

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...

The drive home was made imminently more bearable due to the elephant gift I both bought, brought and ultimately procured at the Makela family gift exchange. Yes, I'm one of those selfish bastards who brings something they'd like to go home with.

In my case, it was the audio version of Life, the recently released autobiography from Keith Richards. Did you see how thick this book with?

I did not listen to a single radio station nor a single tune from the CD player. It was 22 hours of Keith. As read by a worthy British actor whose name I don't recognize and an American guy named Johnny Depp. By the time I pulled into our driveway as the clocked neared 2 a.m. I was literally at the end of the 19th and final CD from my boxed traveling companion.

Thanks, Keith. You were a worthy co-pilot.

...

worst. customer. ever.

"I SEE WHAT YOU'RE DOING."

After a few blocks worth of silence, the blonde cougar in the high heels and black cocktail dress sitting in the backseat finally spoke up. Her surgically-altered nose, however, remained buried in her iPhone.

"Excuse me?" I said glancing in the rearview mirror.

"I know you could've turned 2 blocks ago, but...whatever."

I laughed.

"You think I'm going the long way to make a few extra bucks?"

"I know how you guys are," Cougar Woman sniped. "Y'know what, never mind. Whatever. Just get me to the W."

"You guys?" I shot back. It's not often us white males can truly understand how it feels to be under the boot of discrimination and profiling. But when Cougar Woman lumped me in with all the shady cabbies out to take advantage of the tourists and the drunks, my blood began to boil.

I wanted to tell her, "Maybe you shouldn't be so quick to judge, lest someone glance your way and judge you as an aging, bitter shrew who can't face the horror of not being the prettiest, youngest girl in the room anymore."

Instead, I tried to kill her with kindness and reason, if not a touch of disgust.

"Listen, ma'am, don't include me in whatever negative view you have of cab drivers. My integrity's worth more than a couple bucks, trust me."

I scoffed and continued heading down Red River.

"So why didn't you turn back there? Why are we going this way?"

I glanced in the mirror again and thought to myself, "Are you for real, lady?"

"Because," I tried to answer as calmly as possible, "this is the fastest way to get to the W from where I picked you up. Trust me."

"Y'know what, whatever. Don't talk to me. Just get me to the hotel."

I was not gonna let her get out of the cab without hearing my reasons for taking this route. Even if she didn't want to hear it.

"Oh, no, I'm gonna talk to you," I said, half laughing to keep my blood pressure down. "You're gonna hear the truth about the situation. I went this way because about 30 seconds before I picked you up on 5th Street I had just discovered that 4th Street heading west was closed. I ended up getting diverted back up to 5th, which is when I saw you. That's why going down Red River to Cesar Chavez was the best possible way to get to the W."

Cougar Woman finally looked up from her iPhone.

"Why are you arguing with me?" she whined, her voice reeking of contempt. "Just drive. I don't want to talk to you."

"You don't need to talk to me," I answered, not quite ready to give her the satisfaction of silence. "All you have to do is listen. I want you to understand that I was not trying to rip you off. I went the best way possible."

"Really?" Cougar Woman snarked. "How come I just took a cab to where you picked me up and it didn't take nearly as long?"

"Because 4th Street is closed!" I reminded her. "And you were coming from a different direction, down different one-way streets."

"I've lived down here for 12 years," Cougar Woman said looking up from texting. "I know my way around downtown."

"Yeah? Do you drive downtown?"

"No," she said, "I use taxi drivers who know what they're doing."

I shook my head and laughed. My body was consumed with the oddest mix of anger, amusement and pity. In the rearview mirror I noticed Cougar Woman had returned to her precious texting, oblivious to reason and truth.

"Can you please stop talking until we get to the W? I'm done with you."

In the front seat I was sporting a mile-wide smile. This woman's rudeness and vitriol was stunning. I had to let her know.

"Y'know, I've been driving this cab since late May and I've had probably close to 1000 customers...999 of whom have been friendly, generous, kind..."

In the backseat, Cougar Woman was doing her best to act like I didn't exist. Still, I trudged on.

"But you..."

I searched for just the right way to put it.

"...you have been, without a doubt, the nastiest customer I've ever had. In fact, you've been the ONLY nasty customer I've had in all my months of driving."

A charged silence hung in the air. Cougar Woman wasn't going to give me the satisfaction of a response. Meanwhile, the soundtrack to the moment was provided by Cage the Elephant, playing a song that seemed oddly fitting.

There ain't no rest for the wicked
Money don't grow on trees...

"Can we just stop interacting with each other until I have to pay? I'm done dealing with you."

...I got bills to pay, I got mouths to feed
Ain't nothin' in this world for free

I had to get the last word in.

"As long as you realize I wasn't trying to rip you off for an extra dollar or 2 by going a few blocks out of the way."

Cougar Woman exhaled a puff of condescension. And despite my better judgment, I let it get to me. Now it was my turn to snort with derision.

"Are you a happy person?" I asked, turning to face her as we pulled into the W.

"Just take my credit card and stop talking to me," she said reaching into her purse. The woman who had looked so attractive when I first spotted her standing on 5th Street near Trinity had slowly morphed into the homeliest woman in Austin.

I swiped her credit card through my handy machine, handed Cougar Woman back her card and accidentally keyed in "$40.00" when I meant to type in "$4.00." I turned somberly to My Nastiest Customer Yet.

"I need to run your card again. I screwed up."

For the first time all night, Cougar Woman perked up. "Of course you did," she laughed while handing me her AmEx card.

When the screen option asked if she wanted to leave a tip, I didn't bother to ask. But I did get a quick glimpse of her name before I handed Cougar Woman her receipt.

"Happy holidays, Shari!" I shouted as she awkwardly walked off into the night, her bowlegs moving gracelessly towards the stylish W entrance, nearly tripping on a crack in the pavement.

The next day I spent the morning with another customer. Only this one didn't accuse me of trying to rip him off.

Zac just wanted to go disc golfing in Austin. (That's the 13th hole tee-box in today's pic.)

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We're driving to California today for Christmas, so this will probably be our last blog posting for the year. But we'll be checking in on our new Tumblr blog, since we can update that one from our phone. (Loving that app!)

So if you're curious, check us out here: http://austintaxidriverconfessions.tumblr.com/

Happy holidays, y'all!

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