Sick of it
Nov. 5th, 2006 10:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skyringThe taxi school taught us how to deal with drunk people. Theare one of the necessary parts of a taxidriver's existence, because we cabbies spend our lives ferrying around those who, for one reason or another, are unable to drive. I'm glad to do so. It might not be as much fun to deal with a drunk as the same person sober, but I feel that everyone is entitled to a little enjoyment out of life, and an evening drink in the company of friends is a very great pleasure. Besides, if cabbies didn't haul home drunk people, they would probably drive themselves home, and that's no good for anyone.
Basically, you try to get drunks home as quickly, efficiently, pleasantly and safely as possible. Don't get into arguments, listen carefully for the address they want to go to, give them plenty of fresh air and so on.
We're also tought to look for signs of nausea. If it looks like they might be wanting to throw up, we ask them to give us a bit of notice so we can pull over, and that we will stop the meter while they herk onto the verge, that they may properly empty themselves without feeling that the experience is costing them a dollar a minute. I also carry a box of tissues to deal with these things, should they happen. We listened to horror stories from the instructors, who gave advice on how to clean up if it should happen.
Well, it happened. Saturday night (or perhaps I should say Sunday morning) is one of the busiest periods of the week. Sometimes people can wait for an hour to get a taxi home from the nightclubs in Civic. It doesn't stop until six in the morning. I'm making money hand over fist for six hours straight.
I'd had a fare out over the border to Jerrabomberra - of which more in a while - and I'd then been working my way closer to that long queue in Civic. It was about half past one in the morning when I pulled up at the night rank in Alinga Street. No taxis waiting on the rank and jostling at the head of the line to be the first group into the cab. I scored three young women, and this was fine, because young women drunks are usually a lot more pleasant than young men drunks. A long fare, too. Out to the western suburbs of Belconnen and then continue to a northern suburb. A solid forty or fifty dollar fare.
Apart from a few words of direction, the trio were quiet. One asked for air, and I cranked up the aircon and lowered a couple of windows a bit, enough to give a crossflow. This was a warning sign, and I told them what to do if they felt queasy. And then not a word said for ten minutes or so, halfway to the first dropoff. I turned on the radio, softly, to fill the silence.
And then a liquid sound from the rear seat. No warning, no request to pull over. I stopped the car and one passenger opened the door, leaned out and gave forth. I turned off the meter, handed over my box of tissues, and waited whilst the most sober of the trio looked after her friend. I'm allowed to impose a fifty dollar fee for soiling, but this didn't look too bad, so I told them I'd add ten dollars to the fare.
On we went, and at the first dropoff, the reasonably sober woman gave me the address for the other two, who were unlikely to give me clear directions, so I plugged that into my GPS. The smell must have got to the passenger in the front, because she opened the door while we were stopped and she had a good hurl as well.
We'd been told about the "two-spew" effect, so before we set out on the second leg of the journey, I reinforced the warning. A bit of a dilemma for me. On the one hand, I wanted to get these two home as quickly as possible, but on the other hand, if I was travelling fast, it would take me longer to stop. I opted for the "go quick" strategy, but it was really a moot point, because I got very little warning when the lass in the back seat had a second go. By the time I got the car stopped and the door open, there was considerable spray inside the cab. I waited a good five minutes this time for her to get rid of the last bit. No tissues left, so the poor girl was in a sad way.
The rest of the trip was spent in a very strained silence. I got the fifty dollar fare and the ten dollars on top, and I lingered long enough to make sure that the girls were safely at their front door.
Wound the windows down as I drove to an all night service station. Gassed up and when I paid for the gas, I also bought a bunch of cleaning supplies. Including kitty litter. One of the tips passed on was to dump absorbent kitty litter on any residue, and then vacuum it away after a few minutes.
Well, I worked on that car for an hour. By the time I was finished, all visible evidence was gone, and I hoped that the deodorant I'd sprayed over the upholstery would mask any remaining smells.
The next passenger recoiled in horror as soon as she opened the door. "Did somebody throw up in here?' she asked. I directed her to the seat that hadn't seen any action. It was only a couple of blocks to her destination, a five dollar fare, and I got an immediate hail from a builder wanting to go out to Queanbeyan, another nice solid fare.
"It really pongs in here, mate. It reeks!"
I guess my nose must have become accustomed to the smell.
"You can take another cab, if you wish." I hadn't turned on the meter at that point.
"Nah, let's go. But wind the windows down, will you?"
So we went off through the darkness and over the border, the chill air whipping through the cab. It turned out that my passenger had had a lousy night. A visitor from Melbourne, he hated Canberra, he'd mislaid his drinking mates in a nightclub, he hadn't picked anyone up, and the sooner he was on the next Virgin flight to Melbourne, the better. He didn't say it, but I got the feeling that he considered riding home in a smelly cab was the low point of the night. He didn't have any mates to split the cab fare with, and he only had a few dollars left.
Maybe I was misjudging him, but I was getting the distinct impression that as soon as we stopped, he'd be off out the door and into the night, without paying.
"Because of the state of the cab, I'll give you half price on the ride," I told him. That was about fifteen dollars, which apparently the only cash he had, though he mentioned a credit card, so I said that would be fine.
I drove back, windows down, seething. Obviously I couldn't keep the cab on the road in this condition. Goodbye to the hour I'd spent cleaning the cab already, and goodbye to the rest of the night. A loss of two or three hundred dollars, not to mention what I'd spent on supplies. I'd get an early night - like four in the morning instead of seven - but I still had to deal with the smell.
Got home, pulled the seats out, put the seat covers in the wash, and cleaned out every last skerrick I could find. There was a little pool of vomit under the back seat, which had probably been causing the most smell, but I still got stuck into the seat fabric with some cleaner and deodoriser.
As I write this, it's late Sunday, and I've spent a good deal of my day off setting the car to rights. Replaced a headlight bulb, found the spring retaining clip to keep the other one in place, and generally had a good tidy up. There's a hidden little pile of bicarb under the rear seat, which I trust will help absorb odours, and I got a new car air freshener as well. There's no visible trace of the disaster and the small lingering trace of smell will fade quickly.
A pity, because until that point I was on track to have a record breaking night, and to top my previous week's earnings. Not to mention the people who had to wait longer for a cab because mine was off the road. The bright point was that it was another lesson learnt.
Now, back to that fare to Jerrabomberra. A couple, taking a cab back home from a night at the restaurants in Manuka. Once she learnt that I'd only been cabbing for two weeks, she asked what I'd been doing before and was interested to learn that I was a second-hand book dealer. "Any books in your stock that you just had to read before selling them?" she asked, and I couldn't really think of any. There's any number I'd love to read, but I've long gotten over the feeling that I have to read every book in the world. If I really like them, I won't sell them , unless they are duplicates.
I mentioned one particular title I really loved, Between Silk and Cyanide by Leo Marks and it fair made my night when she said that she had loved it as well. We talked Leo Marks and his codebreaking and spy-training activities for a while. And then I happened to mention Patrick O'Brian, the author of Master and Commander and the rest of the Aubrey/Maturin series. She chirped happily, because she was a fan as well. OK, the rest of the shift was pretty cruddy for me, but having the rare luck to meet someone who enjoyed the same books I love, well, that was a shining star in the dark night.
Basically, you try to get drunks home as quickly, efficiently, pleasantly and safely as possible. Don't get into arguments, listen carefully for the address they want to go to, give them plenty of fresh air and so on.
We're also tought to look for signs of nausea. If it looks like they might be wanting to throw up, we ask them to give us a bit of notice so we can pull over, and that we will stop the meter while they herk onto the verge, that they may properly empty themselves without feeling that the experience is costing them a dollar a minute. I also carry a box of tissues to deal with these things, should they happen. We listened to horror stories from the instructors, who gave advice on how to clean up if it should happen.
Well, it happened. Saturday night (or perhaps I should say Sunday morning) is one of the busiest periods of the week. Sometimes people can wait for an hour to get a taxi home from the nightclubs in Civic. It doesn't stop until six in the morning. I'm making money hand over fist for six hours straight.
I'd had a fare out over the border to Jerrabomberra - of which more in a while - and I'd then been working my way closer to that long queue in Civic. It was about half past one in the morning when I pulled up at the night rank in Alinga Street. No taxis waiting on the rank and jostling at the head of the line to be the first group into the cab. I scored three young women, and this was fine, because young women drunks are usually a lot more pleasant than young men drunks. A long fare, too. Out to the western suburbs of Belconnen and then continue to a northern suburb. A solid forty or fifty dollar fare.
Apart from a few words of direction, the trio were quiet. One asked for air, and I cranked up the aircon and lowered a couple of windows a bit, enough to give a crossflow. This was a warning sign, and I told them what to do if they felt queasy. And then not a word said for ten minutes or so, halfway to the first dropoff. I turned on the radio, softly, to fill the silence.
And then a liquid sound from the rear seat. No warning, no request to pull over. I stopped the car and one passenger opened the door, leaned out and gave forth. I turned off the meter, handed over my box of tissues, and waited whilst the most sober of the trio looked after her friend. I'm allowed to impose a fifty dollar fee for soiling, but this didn't look too bad, so I told them I'd add ten dollars to the fare.
On we went, and at the first dropoff, the reasonably sober woman gave me the address for the other two, who were unlikely to give me clear directions, so I plugged that into my GPS. The smell must have got to the passenger in the front, because she opened the door while we were stopped and she had a good hurl as well.
We'd been told about the "two-spew" effect, so before we set out on the second leg of the journey, I reinforced the warning. A bit of a dilemma for me. On the one hand, I wanted to get these two home as quickly as possible, but on the other hand, if I was travelling fast, it would take me longer to stop. I opted for the "go quick" strategy, but it was really a moot point, because I got very little warning when the lass in the back seat had a second go. By the time I got the car stopped and the door open, there was considerable spray inside the cab. I waited a good five minutes this time for her to get rid of the last bit. No tissues left, so the poor girl was in a sad way.
The rest of the trip was spent in a very strained silence. I got the fifty dollar fare and the ten dollars on top, and I lingered long enough to make sure that the girls were safely at their front door.
Wound the windows down as I drove to an all night service station. Gassed up and when I paid for the gas, I also bought a bunch of cleaning supplies. Including kitty litter. One of the tips passed on was to dump absorbent kitty litter on any residue, and then vacuum it away after a few minutes.
Well, I worked on that car for an hour. By the time I was finished, all visible evidence was gone, and I hoped that the deodorant I'd sprayed over the upholstery would mask any remaining smells.
The next passenger recoiled in horror as soon as she opened the door. "Did somebody throw up in here?' she asked. I directed her to the seat that hadn't seen any action. It was only a couple of blocks to her destination, a five dollar fare, and I got an immediate hail from a builder wanting to go out to Queanbeyan, another nice solid fare.
"It really pongs in here, mate. It reeks!"
I guess my nose must have become accustomed to the smell.
"You can take another cab, if you wish." I hadn't turned on the meter at that point.
"Nah, let's go. But wind the windows down, will you?"
So we went off through the darkness and over the border, the chill air whipping through the cab. It turned out that my passenger had had a lousy night. A visitor from Melbourne, he hated Canberra, he'd mislaid his drinking mates in a nightclub, he hadn't picked anyone up, and the sooner he was on the next Virgin flight to Melbourne, the better. He didn't say it, but I got the feeling that he considered riding home in a smelly cab was the low point of the night. He didn't have any mates to split the cab fare with, and he only had a few dollars left.
Maybe I was misjudging him, but I was getting the distinct impression that as soon as we stopped, he'd be off out the door and into the night, without paying.
"Because of the state of the cab, I'll give you half price on the ride," I told him. That was about fifteen dollars, which apparently the only cash he had, though he mentioned a credit card, so I said that would be fine.
I drove back, windows down, seething. Obviously I couldn't keep the cab on the road in this condition. Goodbye to the hour I'd spent cleaning the cab already, and goodbye to the rest of the night. A loss of two or three hundred dollars, not to mention what I'd spent on supplies. I'd get an early night - like four in the morning instead of seven - but I still had to deal with the smell.
Got home, pulled the seats out, put the seat covers in the wash, and cleaned out every last skerrick I could find. There was a little pool of vomit under the back seat, which had probably been causing the most smell, but I still got stuck into the seat fabric with some cleaner and deodoriser.
As I write this, it's late Sunday, and I've spent a good deal of my day off setting the car to rights. Replaced a headlight bulb, found the spring retaining clip to keep the other one in place, and generally had a good tidy up. There's a hidden little pile of bicarb under the rear seat, which I trust will help absorb odours, and I got a new car air freshener as well. There's no visible trace of the disaster and the small lingering trace of smell will fade quickly.
A pity, because until that point I was on track to have a record breaking night, and to top my previous week's earnings. Not to mention the people who had to wait longer for a cab because mine was off the road. The bright point was that it was another lesson learnt.
Now, back to that fare to Jerrabomberra. A couple, taking a cab back home from a night at the restaurants in Manuka. Once she learnt that I'd only been cabbing for two weeks, she asked what I'd been doing before and was interested to learn that I was a second-hand book dealer. "Any books in your stock that you just had to read before selling them?" she asked, and I couldn't really think of any. There's any number I'd love to read, but I've long gotten over the feeling that I have to read every book in the world. If I really like them, I won't sell them , unless they are duplicates.
I mentioned one particular title I really loved, Between Silk and Cyanide by Leo Marks and it fair made my night when she said that she had loved it as well. We talked Leo Marks and his codebreaking and spy-training activities for a while. And then I happened to mention Patrick O'Brian, the author of Master and Commander and the rest of the Aubrey/Maturin series. She chirped happily, because she was a fan as well. OK, the rest of the shift was pretty cruddy for me, but having the rare luck to meet someone who enjoyed the same books I love, well, that was a shining star in the dark night.
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no subject
Date: 2006-11-05 11:30 am (UTC)Would it be an idea to have some plastic/sick bags in the cab for times like this? However that might encourage people to be sick in the taxi.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-05 11:35 am (UTC)I detest binge drinkers especially. These are the people with a real problem and their actions often make it everyone elses problem too. :< Urgh.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-05 11:54 am (UTC)btw, I really like your cabstories!
no subject
Date: 2006-11-05 12:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-05 11:46 pm (UTC)p.s. I've been sick once in a taxi when I was much much younger of course :-) but I did manage to do it out the window heh.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-06 07:30 am (UTC)Hope that doesn't happen again but you've got a few tips that might make it easier next time.
MrFan has invented a new expression which will lighten our mood when it rains. He calls it a "Skyring day" knowing that the rain will make people call cabs more.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-06 09:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-06 09:19 am (UTC)Hmm
Date: 2006-11-06 12:37 pm (UTC)I should ask the stations (Or Gunzel412) is they still have the deoderising "cat Litter" thet we use on the railway. I used to carry several bags of the stuff. Ordinary litter is OK., but there is special "spew" stuff that deoderised and solidifies in a short time.