Day 3

 

I finally had a chance to drive again.  I had a few requests from Manny, but couldn't get free the past few months.  I had figured my two or three-day career as a cab driver was over.  But alas, I was able to say "yes" to the most recent call.  I may as well refer to it as Day 3.  Car 305, if you were curious.

Day 3 brought to my first airport pick-up.  Though we all may know how friendly and patient the staff working outside the Arrival area of the airports are, few have experienced what the city taxis and livery cabs are subjected to on each pick-up.  And why is it when we go to pick-up friends and loved ones at the airport, that the staff is surprised that we are there.  Why is that they prefer us get our friends and family (and luggage) into our cars without actually STOPPING?  “Hurry up Grandma, walk along the car and hop in while I ride the breaks.  If I stop, I may be treated as a potential terrorist!”

The first decision for me to make when entering the “limo lot” is weather or not I am a taxi or a cab.  You see, a cab is not necessarily taxi, a livery car is not necessarily a limo, and so on.  Don’t get me started on explaining what a “taxi-cab” is.  What is important to know is that I do not drive a taxi-cab (with the meter thing that clicks way to often).  Taxi-cab drivers have to pay BIG TIME fees to the city and county in order to drive.  I, however, can only pick-up at the airports if someone has requested us.  This brings me to the Limo-Lot.

Again, I need to drive to the cab holding lot to submit my “stamp.”  This $4 stamp is supposed to be affixed to a form with a bunch of necessary info; who I work for, my plate #, who I am picking up, the flight #, my children’s SSN, my Grandfathers date of birth, etc.  The livery cars behind me would have appreciated me having the form already filled out I am sure.  What is a “stamp” you ask?  It is a friendly word for TAX.  Politicians are masters at taking our money using words that hide the word TAX.  Apparently, it costs some government agency, hidden in bureaucracy, millions of dollars to organize the taxis and cabs at O’Hare International Airport.   I bet I could do it for about a 25 cent “stamp” per car. 

I would like to tell you that all of the fellow drivers and staff in the limo lot are happy humans.  Needless to write, they are not.  They all yell a lot.  Sometimes they yell at each other.  Luckily, I caught on that all of the yelling is for naught, as few yellers speak the same language as those on the receiving end of the yell.  When I was yelled at for my lack of a stamp-form, I simply yelled back in jibberish, and that ended the conflict.  “Yaka schwam bido!”   “Bido, I say!”

I was right on time for my first pick-up. Sadly for me and my customers, the major airline lost their infant’s car seat and could not find a loaner. This left me sitting for one hour in the yelling lot.  My parents just tossed us in the back seat back in the day.  No car seats.  ‘Honey, is that the windshield wiper fluid knocking around back there?”  “No, that is just Gary.”  “Good, I don’t want that blue stuff to spill all over the place.”

Later in the day I got the call to take George and Edna to their restaurant of choice.  You may remember that I drove this lovely duo to the doctor’s office during my first or second day.  Today was dinner at Omega, a typical Greek-owned big menu joint.  On the way, ninety-year-old Edna shared with me that she “and the girls” just had their book club luncheon at “that Margianno’s.”  Apparently she was amazed that they had “meats, pastas, salads, soups, and even bread available.”  It was the bread that sold me.

On my second trip to the airport I picked up a young couple that seemed angry.  They just grunted as I helped them load up for the trip back to the suburbs.  I was wrong.  They were happy to a fault.  He was too excited to see the snow and Christmas lights.  As we turned down a tree lined residential street, he made a comment about EVERY SINLGE HOUSE with lights and decorations. “Oooh, look how that did that.”  “That is nice.” “They did a nice job with very little.” “Look at that….pretty.”  I am pretty sure that his wife and I wanted to put a pillow over his face.  Not to kill him, just to, well, ya know.

By the way, on my second trip to the airport, I had all of my forms ready to go.  The lady in the limo lot booth almost hugged me.  She was so proud.  I know this because she smiled while saying stuff to me in a language I did not recognize.  I responded to her.  I think we are dating now.  Day 4 soon?