Category Archives: Sex

A Flash In the Pan part 2

WARNING: SOME OF THESE STORIES CONTAIN SEXUALLY EXPLICIT LANGUAGE

This post is a continuation of stories about very quick, mostly short cab trips that are nonetheless remarkable:

While waiting for some of her relatives to exit Walmart, she felt the need, only God knows why, to enlighten me on her methods of shoplifting from that very store. ” You gotta have your baby with you because they won’t fuck with your baby. You gotta have that diaper bag. First, you gotta get them tags off, then put the shit in yo’ baby’s bag cause they won’t fuck with the baby.” I said that’s interesting, good to know. Three of her family members then exited the store, carrying a baby.

The call was to a restaurant at the Summit Mall. The two young women were quite nerdy compared to most of the younger folks that I’ve picked up in this area. They seemed a little old fashioned, their faces and hair looked very plain, not fashionable at all by today’s standards. The conversation turned to a movie they had just seen in the nearby theater before going to the restaurant. The first young lady said “that was a good movie” her friend agreed. “The only part I didn’t like was that lesbian scene. It was soooooo disgusting when those two girls were French kissing.” After an awkward moment her friend softly said “I liked that part, I’ve done it before.” Dead, awkward silence for the rest of the trip…

nerd girls

She came out of the McDonalds near University Hospital with a totally normal bag of burgers and fries. One thing that didn’t look quite normal was the plastic tubing hanging from her body below her skirt. I thought, well I guess it isn’t that unusual since we’re here next to this huge hospital. It isn’t unusual at all to see people wearing all sorts of medical devices. I asked her if she just got out of the hospital. “Naw, it’s been a while since I was in there.” After a few seconds a light came on and she said “Oh that. Are you talking about that tube?” “It’s a womb vacuum, it’s supposed to be sucking my womb shut.” Ok, I said. Where do you need to go?

The brick apartments that line both sides of Valley Avenue can be a difficult place to pick up. The traffic is heavy, it’s hard to find a parking place and the house numbers are hard to see at night. This guy made it easy, he was standing out on the sidewalk flagging as I drove by. He wanted to go to the Search Club, the most popular gay club in town. “I’m not sure they’ll let me in” he said. “Will you wait and not leave until you see if I get in or not?” I assured him that I would. “I got into it with that bitch at the door about a month ago, she might not let me in.” What was the problem? I asked. I immediately realized that I shouldn’t have asked that question. ” I was just looking for a dick to suck or somebody to fuck me and she got mad about it and kicked me out.” “What about you? I could suck your dick.” I said man, I have no problem with you being gay but it’s not my thing, please don’t hit on me. He said “I’ll bet if I gave you twenty thousand dollars you’d stick your dick down my throat, wouldn’t you?” I said, hit on me again and you’re gonna be on the side of the road. He was silent for the rest of the trip to the Search.  Just as he feared, he was turned away at the door. I said there are two other gay bars nearby, do you want to go to one of them? He said “No, I can’t go to them either. I guess I’ll just go home and fuck myself, again. I’m getting tired of that dildo, I want a man to fuck me.” When I pulled up back at his apartments the meter was sitting at eighteen dollars and he started to whine. “I’m gonna have to pay you almost twenty dollars for nothing, twenty dollars just to fuck myself again.” He slowly handed me the twenty and got out. I said good night, go fuck yourself!

We don’t get individual calls to the Greyhound Bus Station anymore. The dispatchers now simply put a message on the screen saying “Greyhound Can Load” and if you’re nearby you can go by and get a fare. In the days when we did get individual calls, I got one to pick up Amy one night about 11 pm. When I got there another driver had pulled up with an order to pick up Michelle. Amy was nowhere to be found but Michelle came out immediately. Michelle was a transsexual and not a very convincing one. This person looked a little like Archie Bunker wearing a dress, pumps and carrying a purse. The driver who was supposed to be picking her up took one look and said, “Why don’t you get this one? I’ve got a personal trip I need to pick up.” I said OK and Michelle got in my cab. It was a uneventful trip except for Michelle’s unconventional appearance. She was a trucker. I delivered her to a trucking company north of the city where she picked up her truck and hit the open road.

transexual trucker

Images courtesy of blog.blip.com, http://www.liverpoolecho.co.uk

copyright R.W. Walker 2013

*All views and opinions are strictly those of R.W. Walker. These views do not reflect the views of any cab company.

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When Johnny Comes Marching Home

When Johnny Comes Marching Home

When picking up at large chain restaurants your customers are usually employees of the restaurant, tourists, or business travelers who have flown in and are staying in a nearby hotel. When I arrived at the large restaurant at the Summit Mall I was surprised at what I encountered. My customer didn’t fit into any of the aforementioned categories. He wasn’t even a customer at the restaurant. The young, clean cut, white man looked like a deer in headlights. He was sweating and seemed agitated and confused. He had given the address of the restaurant just because it was the closest landmark to where he was. He wanted to go to a nearby apartment complex, on the way there I discovered the reason for his abnormal appearance and behavior.

It was still early in 2011, before the official end of the Iraq war. “Just got home today” he said. ” I just spent three years in Iraq. When I got to my sweetheart’s apartment, I caught her fucking somebody else.” All I could think of to say was Oh man, I’m sorry, that sucks! It was hard to listen to this macho military man’s voice crack as he described all the sweetheart letters and emails he had received while at war for the past 3 years. I could see him brushing away tears in the rearview mirror as he spoke about how he thought she would welcome him home with open arms.

His voice, along with his entire demeanor switched dramatically from sadness to hostile anger as he started telling me about walking in on his sweetheart and her new lover. “I used my old key to her place, I was going to surprise her. I opened the door, walked in and called her name. All I could hear was a mad scramble going on in the bedroom. It didn’t take me long to realize what was going on when I saw the panic on her face.” His voice cracked again as he said “she didn’t even hug me.” I could sense the anger building as he started telling me about what happened next. ” When I walked in the bedroom, there was that motherfucker trying to get his clothes on. I didn’t think and I didn’t ask any questions. I cold cocked that motherfucker right in the face! He hit the floor like a rock. His face was all bloody but I wasn’t through. I kicked the motherfucker in the ribs and in the balls three or four times. That bitch was screaming, slapping me and throwing shit at me. She called the cops. They’re looking for me now, I’m sure I’ll go to jail tonight.”

He was trying to make a phone call as we pulled up in the parking lot of the apartments where he had directed me. Apparently one of his buddies lived here, or had lived here at the time my customer left for war. He was trying to find a place to stay. With no luck on the phone and his buddy’s car no where in sight, he asked me to take him to one of the hotels along highway 280. He settled on the one that he thought would be the cheapest. When he tried to pay the twelve dollar fare he discovered that he had no cash and the three cards he had in his wallet had all expired while he was serving in Iraq. I tried to run one of them. Of course it was declined as both of us knew it would be. I said I’ll tell you what buddy, you’ve had a rough day, this one’s on me.

He got out vowing to pay me when he had the money. I gave him my card just in case. Then I left and hit 280 again. Of course I knew he would never be able to check into that hotel if all he had for money was three expired credit cards. I don’t think it had even been ten minutes until I heard the long beep and  saw that I was being offered a trip in zone 330. When I accepted it I noticed that the line where the name usually goes just said “customer.” The address was to the exact same hotel where I had dropped him off, it had to be him. I thought I was rid of him. I guess I shouldn’t have accepted any trips until I was well out of the zone. It was him. It couldn’t have been anyone else.

He wasn’t even standing near the door of the hotel. He was out in the street flagging furiously when he saw me. While walking up to my window he was saying “Man, I swear to God if you’ll take me down to Valleydale Road I’ll pay you $40 cash. I have it there, if I can just get down there I can get my money.” I was hesitant because I had already been stiffed by this guy one time. I finally agreed and we started down toward Valleydale. When we pulled into the parking lot he jumped out and went into an apartment. After about 5 minutes he emerged from the apartment and got back in the car. “It’s not there” he said. “We’ll have to wait for that bitch to get back, she took my money.” That bitch? I asked. Are you talking about your sweetheart? The woman you fought with earlier? “Yeah, I’m talking about THAT bitch. She took that motherfucker to the hospital after I kicked his ass.”

I wasn’t liking the idea of this at all. There was no way in hell this could end well. I had almost decided to just go ahead and swallow a double stiffing when she drove into the parking lot and up beside the cab. He got out immediately and started raising hell about his money. The short, average looking young woman with a blonde ponytail jumped out of her car and started raising hell right back. “I called the police on you, why ain’t you in jail?” she demanded. He walked over to her car, opened the door and grabbed her purse off the seat. She was cursing, screaming and hitting him as he walked back to the cab. He got back into the back seat and she got in with him. She was screaming to the top of her lungs calling him every name in the book as she repeatedly punched him in the face and head with her fists! He pulled $40 out of her purse and threw it in the front seat. They were still cursing and screaming as they exited the cab.

I don’t think I’ve ever exited a scene so fast. I turned my phone off so he couldn’t call me. I also turned off the dispatch and didn’t book in again until I was back to zone 120 (southside). I’m glad I didn’t get stiffed but the whole situation just seemed wrong. Was the $40 he paid me really his? Was the whole big story he told me even true? I don’t know but I know that I felt dirty and needed to get clean. I don’t know what happened in that parking lot after I left, but if I were a betting man I’d bet it wasn’t good.

copyright 2013 R.W. Walker

*All views and opinions are strictly those of R.W. Walker. These views do not reflect the views of any cab company.

Drunk Daddy

WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS VERY HARSH AND EXPLICIT LANGUAGE. MOST READERS ARE LIKELY TO BE VERY OFFENDED AND DISGUSTED BY THE MAIN CHARACTER OF THIS STORY

Some drunks are fun, like the twenty-somethings leaving the bars that are just drunk enough to want to sing. I remember one group singing Comfortably Numb along with the radio at max volume. Some are friendly and talkative, others are just plain silly. They can be annoying as hell but for the most part they’re pretty much harmless. This isn’t a story about one of those kinds of drunks. It’s a story about possibly the most disturbing, disgusting drunk that I’ve ever had to deal with.

The call came from zone 150, Mountain Brook. Calls from this zone are not always as lucrative as one might imagine considering the prestige and income level of this area. You can’t always expect to make a lot here but you can generally expect for it to be a pretty civil trip without too much drama or ridiculousness. Not this time. When I drove up in the driveway, he came out immediately. I could tell he had been hitting the sauce pretty hard. He said “just park over there, let’s take my Hummer.” I said I can’t do that. “Why?” he persisted. Because it’s against the rules was all I could think of to say. I didn’t know if it was or not but I did know if I had wrecked or even put a blemish on that thing that I would never hear the end of it. He persisted, telling me how much nicer it was than the cab. I finally said I know it’s nice, that’s not the point. I’ll lose my job if I do that. I said if you want me to drive you, you’re gonna have to ride in the cab.

He insisted on riding in the front because we were going to pick up his daughter and her friends and they would take up the back. Classic Cars is a venue located beside the railroad tracks and under a bridge. It’s extremely difficult to find unless a person knows exactly where they’re going. Inside is a collection of classic cars in mint condition. There’s a full bar and space for dancing. This venue is often rented out for private parties such as wedding receptions, beer festivals, ect…Tonight it was an alcohol-free dance for teenagers. He began talking all about his family life with his drunken slurred speech. It was clear that he was full of contempt for every person in or associated with his family. He referred to all females, including his wife and daughter, only with the words bitch, cunt, or whore.

He started telling me the story of catching his 14 year old daughter’s boyfriend on his patio smoking pot from a homemade bong. He talked about having a confrontation with this 15 year old kid like the kid was his own age, which I had guessed to be about 45. “I told that little pot smoking motherfucker I’d kick his goddamn ass! I was drinking a Corona in a cup and I just  drunk daddyslashed it in his face. If that motherfucker had come after me I would have kicked his goddamn ass!”. He went on to tell me, “The only reason I’ve got money is because of that bitch I’m married to. I hate her and that little cunt we’re going to pick up.”

When we pulled up at Classic Cars he called his daughter on the phone to come out, he was there to pick her and her friends up. She didn’t waste any time getting to the car but she was alone. “Where are the other two little bitches?” he asked. His daughter sat in the backseat like a perfect little lady. It was clear that she didn’t want to be confrontational at all, she just wanted to go home. She explained that the other two girls said that their mother was coming to get them so we didn’t have to worry about bringing them back. It wasn’t long before Drunk Daddy started verbally abusing his daughter. He slurred ” I don’t like that little pot smoking motherfucker you’re fucking around with.” He then told her that he had thrown beer in the kid’s face. She sat stoically in the back. I could hear her barely mumble “I don’t believe this”.

“Are you fucking that little motherfucker?” he asked. “I know you are you little cunt. Why don’t you just go ahead and let him stick his goddamn dick in your little pussy and put a baby in there so that me and your mama can dig it out of your fucking little cunt with a goddamn coathanger?” I’m 53 years old and I have never in my life heard a grown man talk to a 14 year old girl this way. I was completely appalled and disgusted but what was I going to do short of starting a fist fight with this drunk asshole. In hindsight, I thought that I should have just put his ass out on the side of the road and taken the girl home. I wasn’t thinking straight at the time, I just wanted to get this scumbag home and out of my car. The little girl never raised her voice, I guess she was used to taking shit off this stupid bastard.

We were almost home, we were turning off of highway 280 onto Overton Road when the situation suddenly became much more complicated. The girl got a phone call. It was the mother of one of the other two girls making sure they were being brought home. The two girls had lied to Drunk Daddy’s daughter because they wanted to stay longer at the dance. Back to Classic Cars. Drunk Daddy is scowling and cursing the entire way, calling the girls every derogatory name that’s ever been thought of for women. Drunk Daddy’s daughter had to go in and get them, turns out they were just trying to buy more time with their boyfriends. Apparently they were neighbors or staying over at Drunk Daddy’s house. That’s where they were going, not another location.

When they got in the car, he came out with “hello you little cunts.” Then he started to give what I assume he thought was fatherly advice. “You know, boys only want one thing out of little whores like you. They want to stick their dicks in your little holes.” All three girls seemed terrified of this idiot. They were completely quiet except for an occasional “Yes sir” when he was spewing his filthy bullshit.

When we pulled up in the driveway all three girls bolted. They were gone in two seconds flat. Drunk Daddy didn’t get out. He was one of those drunk assholes that just wanted to hang around and keep me from leaving. Thank God his wife came out. She was livid. “Pay this man and get your stupid drunk ass out of the car” she said. “Brittany’s dad knows you’re drunk! He’s never letting her come over again!” she angrily told him. “How much do I owe you?” he asked. With all the running back and forth the fare had run up to $65. He handed me a $100 bill and said “Keep the change for putting up with my shit.” I said thank you.

copyright 2013 R.W. Walker

*All views and opinions are strictly those of R.W. Walker. These views do not reflect the views of any cab company.