The time came for us to return to Virginia, as winter was approaching and Sheryl wanted no part of another “real Yankee Winter”. I wanted no part of mama.
The kids at the church were in tears, the congregation nearly so.
We rented a large U-Haul and returned to Newport News, Virginia.
Being short of income, I tried once again to get a “real” job. I took a job at a car wash. This lasted until the hot days of summer arrived, and with the combination of heat and physical exertion I had a small heart attack.
My chest had been hurting for a day or so, and I had a hard time taking a deep breath. It felt as if a good burp would fix it. I finally decided to go to the hospital and have it checked out. I didn’t tell Sheryl where I was going because I didn’t want her to worry unnecessarily if it was nothing but gas.
I entered the emergency room at Fort Eustis’ Macdonald Army Community Hospital and when asked about my problem I put one hand on my chest and said, “I have this pain …”
Before I could complete the sentence I was on a gurney heading for an examining room. I was quickly wired up to a monitor and a team of people were all around me. I guess I had another one while on the table. I started to lose consciousness and saw people grabbing needles. My last thought was about my lack of life insurance, then “what the hell, I’ll be dead – so what?”
When I came around I was told that I would be transferred to a civilian hospital because Fort Eustis no longer had cardiac care facilities. I told them to just send me home because I couldn’t afford the copay at a civilian hospital. I was shocked when they brought their cardiac care equipment out of storage and set up a room just for me – complete with my own private nurses.
I called Sheryl and told her what had happened and not to expect me home for a few days.
She went off. She was mad as hell because I had gone off and not told her I was having a heart attack. I thought I was being nice and considerate by not making her worry needlessly.
I was in there for about a week, being waited on hand and foot. While bored most of the time, I was enjoying the attention from all the attractive young female nurses and orderlies.
After that I had to quit the car wash and take a job delivering pizza.
I gave up on ever getting a “real” job and being in need of money I started delivering pizza for Channello’s – a company that doesn’t believe in red lining any neighborhoods, and will deliver anywhere. It was a very interesting experience.
One customer in particular stands out in memory. She was a very good looking woman – no, make that outstandingly beautiful woman. Gigi would order a sub everyday at noon, then take her shower. I would always arrive with her sub about fifteen minutes later, and she would still be in the shower. This pinnacle of female beauty would answer the door dripping wet, trying to hold a small bath towel in front of her body. She always used a large bill and I would have to hand her the sub and change, and she would hand back a tip. In the process the towel would always fall.
We called such incidents “fringe benefits”.
Such cases were far from rare. There seem to be a lot of female exhibitionists out there, and pizza delivery drivers are a ready target. One lady would wait at the top of her apartment stairs – wearing nothing but a short T-shirt. Another couple would order the pizza, then start making love on the living room floor. When I arrived she would yell for me to "come on in – leave it on the table".
Sheryl didn’t like the idea of me delivering pizza – too many drivers were getting shot and killed. Once again I was job hunting, once again I gave up. Might as well be a cab driver – which really made her day! I went from the second most dangerous job in the area to the most dangerous job.
My second day on the job as a cab driver. "Wow - I'm a Cab Driver. Hope I don't get shot."
The first day was interesting. Remembering how to work the meter, radio procedures, maps, navigating and dealing with the public. There's a lot to this job. Oh well, beats nothing.
I answer a call just outside the city proper. It's about five in the morning. Hope it's cool. I find the address and there's a party in full swing. Great, I don't need a cab full of drunks.
Three very young girls get in, one up front, two in the back, and they can't be over sixteen. All knock out pretty, and drunk on their sweet little butts. They tell me where they're going and I start the meter. They talk about the party and try to get me into the conversation.
"We just got pierced - wana see?"
"What did you get pierced?"
"Everything! Look!"
With that they all stripped naked, the two in the back put their heads by the rear window, arched their backs and spread their legs. The girl in front turned toward me.
"Whatdayathink?"
"Nice. Did it hurt?" Everything was pierced. Nipples, belly buttons and labia. Everything was swollen and covered with betadine. Nothing looked good or sexy, just swollen and nasty. Damn. Three naked underage girls in my cab. Now bright city lights. Hope no cops see this. That's all I need.
"Uh, ladies? How about getting dressed - we're almost there."
"Could you park a couple doors down? I don't want to wake anyone up."
I did as requested and collected the fare plus a civilized tip. As the years rolled by, this kind of fare became the common occurrence, not the exception to the rule.
It was common for under age girls who I picked up in the early morning to want dropped a few houses away from theirs.
One New Year’s morning was full of them.
A very cute little girl enters my cab from a motel room. It was below freezing outside, with a stiff wind blowing. She was dressed in a light shirt and shorts. News Year’s eve had started fairly warm, but a cold front came in during the night. I dropped her off near her house, proceeded to the next intersection and turned around. As I drove by I saw her standing by the curb, shaking and obviously very cold. I stopped.
“Daddy changed the lock, what should I do?”
I advised her to use the doorbell.
Another little girl was caught attempting to sneak in through a side window. I saw her stuck half way through, the window held down on her waist. She appeared to be getting a very stern lecture from daddy.
There were times I would get lucky.
I just picked up at the Omni Hotel, a lady got in and handed me a fifty, asking to go to her bank and for me to wait so I could take her back to the hotel. No problem, but does she have anything smaller than a fifty? No.
She returned to the cab carrying a briefcase. In the cab she opened it. It is stuffed with new hundred dollar bills. All brand new and banded. I prayed I didn't just become a getaway driver. She gave me a hundred and says to keep the change.
"That SOB just came through with ten years back child and spousal support. I've been working my tail off as a nurse's aid, and he's a vice-president of that bank. Now I'm going to party."
We talked about my marriage. She was envious of what Sheryl and I had. I took her back to the hotel, then to the airport. She gave me another hundred. "Take your wife out, buy her some flowers." I went home and did as she suggested. It was a good day. Two trips, $256.75. Not bad.
4:00 AM can be an interesting time to be driving a cab. Anything can and does happen. Nothing is surprising after a couple of years.
I took a call at an EconoLodge Motel, pulled up to the room number and sounded the horn. I hoped I woke everyone in the place.
A very attractive lady walked out and sat in the cab's front seat beside me. She was holding a motel towel in front, nothing else. It was too small to cover everything or wrap around - not much bigger than a hand towel. She gave me an address in Hampton, about a twenty dollar trip.
"I don't think you have enough money with you for a cab."
"I hope you'll trust me for the money. I have to go into the house to get it."
Ordinarily I wouldn't, but you have to be nice now and then - and it was a slow morning. I didn't ask about her attire, she didn't volunteer anything. Half way to her home she gave up the towel and just held it on her lap.
"Will we get there by 5?"
"No problem, your husband get home around then?"
"Yes."
Nothing else was said, when we arrived she climbed a fence, and a few minutes later came out the front door (I was concerned about her being a runner -- naked or not) and paid the fare. With a tip. Still naked.
I don't much like carrying drunks in my cab. A buzz is OK, but really-ready-to puke-sloppy-drunks? No.
I answered a call at the local Hooters at about 2:00 PM. Usually that's a bit too early for drunks but sometimes - This guy staggered out and got into the cab. He gave me an address about $6 - $7 down the road. As I pulled out into traffic, he asks "Take it easy on the bumps. I don't feel too good. Urp!" I check the mirror, and see a nearly sick drunk.
"I charge a $50 clean up fee if you lose it." By the time we reached his home he was holding his nose tightly, and his cheeks were puffed out - his eyes bulging.
I pulled up at his address. He started to lose it. He grabbed the door handle and threw himself out. He puked all over his brand new Corvette. He handed me a ten and said, "keep the change". I reminded him to clean the 'vette - that stuff will eat the paint off.
"OK, and thanks - I can't afford another DUI."
I turned the cab around, and as I went by I saw him passed out on the front lawn. The next time I saw him, his 'vette had a new paint job.
There was a time when area Yellow Cabdrivers were being shot on an all too frequent basis. We were told by the company to cooperate with the punks. Give them all our money, and be respectful. This policy resulted in drivers dying. Some of us got together and decided to fight back. One driver actually took the gun from the would be robber and pistol whipped him in front of the bros.
I had a similar experience. I carried a young "man" to the ghetto area from uptown at about 3:00 AM. When we arrived at the street corner he wanted, he pulled a gun; a cute little .25 auto. I got it before he could react, and calmly told him he owed me $20 for the fare. He replied that he was broke. I gave him the Standard Lecture No. 3 "Don't Get Into A Cab If You're Broke". I told him he had best find the money, and started the waiting time running on my meter. He exited the cab to beg money from his friends who were standing around with their crack pipes and 40 ounce beers. I kept him covered with his gun and slowly followed along side. Most of the people laughed at him, "why pay? Just run!" "What? He's white!" He pleaded a sudden onset of honesty and religion and finally collected enough to pay his tab plus tip. I tossed him his gun - right into a storm drain. His embarrassment in front of his friends was better than any pistol whipping or jail time.
Other drivers had similar experiences, and the robberies and murders of Yellow Cab drivers stopped. Other companies who obeyed the old policy were not as lucky, but the word was on the streets - don't mess with Yellow Cab.
