Here's some fun little short stories for ya:
* I had these 2 guys that were pretty amusing in my car heading across the bridge to the Doug Fir for some late night dining. We were having a good time yukking it up about most everything and we got on the subject of swimming. Somehow.
Guy2: C'mon now, you think ALL swimmers were on cocaine?
Guy1: Of course they were. What guy in his right mind would shave all the hair off his body?
Me: You mean, aside from latex play?
Me: You KNOW they had to be on drugs, lookit that 'stache on Mark Spitz fer Crissakes!
Guy1: You mean the pre-Selleck 70's mustache?!
Guy2: I saw BOTH his mustaches.
Me: Don't do it.
Guy1: Whatcha mean?
Guy2: Inside that speed-o? Dude had JJ Walker between his legs, man.
Me: Ya did it.
Guy1: Holy shit! That's just wrong.
* Picked up this group of youngsters going from Clancy's across the bridge to the Chesterfield. The guy that sat up front I've picked up before. I remember him because every time he gets in my cab he always has to ask if I'm the lesbian cab driver. Every time.
Me: Hey Edgar, how you doin' tonight?
He: Oh yeah, I remember you! I'm great.
Me: Smells like you've been spending some time yakking in the alley. You feeling all right?
He: Yeah. Better now anyway. Now wait a minute ... are you the dike?
Guy in back: Naw man. Remember, she's the one that looks like a dike but isn't. Why do you keep forgetting?
Edgar: Oh yeah, that's right. Eyeballs me for a second. You DO realize you look like a dike, right?
Me: Yes. It's 'cuz I'm fat and wear a baseball hat. I know, I know. You say this every time I see you.
* Got sent to this little hole in the wall place called the Desert Inn on S McLaughlin one night to pick up some guy named Chad. I was coming up from Canby so was passing by anyway, took me about 15 minutes to get myself there. I get there and find my guy and his gal, both pretty far gone into their drink.
Me: Howdy folks. Where we off to?
She: We're going to this bar called Something. (I forgot what she said)
He: Naw, remember, they changed the name of it.
Me: Um, well, what's the new name of it?
He: The Porterhouse.
Me: Yer shitting me, right?
He: Nope. That's where we're going.
Me: You called a cab to take you ... what? 100 feet?
He: It's your fucking JOB right? Just take us there. to her See baby, I told you I'd get you a ride.
Me: Shit. Yer right, it IS my fucking job. You guys strapped in?
She: What do you mean?
Me: Well, you hafta wear your seat belt. Safety first and all that.
He: To go 100 feet?
Me: Well, if you're going to call a cab to take you next-fucking-door then yer going to put on your belt to go next-fucking-door.
She: Can you talk to him like that?
Me: Well, I'm just looking out for your safety. If he doesn't want me to get a bit irritated then maybe he shouldn't call a cab to take him next-fucking-door. Seat belts?
They both strap in, bitching about it the whole time. We take our 15 second ride.
He: Hey, how come you didn't start your meter?
Me: Ah heck, obviously you need your money to keep your woman happy so I'm giving you a free ride.
He: Um. Let me give you some money for the ride.
Me: Aw jeez mister (in my best leave it to beaver voice), that's awfully sweet of you, but really free ride. Get the fuck out.