Wheels of Misfortune: Who Would Have Thunk It? Indeed, Your Pitiful Imagination Does Not Suffice

By Robert W. Wofford

Here are the tales of a twenty-one year relationship with taxi madness. It seemed at times the folks who called for a cab in Ocean City were either insane or stupid beyond normal comprehension. These were my customers and I never knew what kind of creature would be riding with me, until I arrived of course and saw them standing at the curbside. Sometimes it would be some felonious creature, fresh from prison, wielding various weaponry. One could tell from a distance this was not going to be a good situation. And so at such times I would hastily leave the vicinity. Sadly this happened fairly often. The yells of rage and various hand
gestures of the would be customer was added incentive to get the heck away from there. What a spectacle to behold in my rear view mirror. No need to invite trouble or mayhem after all. Our dispatchers, most of them former felons themselves, would understand that certain scary individuals need not be picked up. This, to avoid ending up in the various sections of the local newspaper that dealt with violent death. Particularly the Obit column. It was only due to my keen sense of self preservation and aversion to pain that I was fortunate to avoid said encounters with the minions of the Grim Reaper.

These tales of Taxi woe came upon me during my years of diligent public service to my community and my wallet. My wife had needs after all and it was my DUTY to provide for her many pairs of shoes, (over 300 pairs for heavens sake), and clothing which she shopped for and then never wore. They were interesting times to say the least.

Enjoy the tales, I lived them and you can read from a safe distance. LOL

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493168231

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Robert W. Wofford.

ISBN:           Softcover                       978-1-4931-6822-4

                      eBook                       978-1-4931-6823-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 01/25/2014

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Contents

Dedicated To:

Disclaimer

Chapter One Lead By Hormones

About Jane

Once Gone

So Foolishly I Stayed

My New ’Hood

The Night It Ended

My New Home

Stacy

Chapter Two Ocean City Taxi

Our Dispatchers

Our Bosses

The Cabs Themselves

Required Documentation That Hitler Would Have Been Proud Of

Some Of My More Interesting Colleagues

O’doule

The Turtle

The Mailman

Seventin

Chapter Three The Locals

Our Seniors

The Others

The Local Food… Oh, God

Chapter Four Fear & Loathing

Customer Trepidation

Lucifer’s Lens

Chapter Five Our Entertainment, Such As It Was…

Of Cabs And Cops

Why Style Matters

Chapter Six Bodily Fluids

Puke

Pee

Poop

Mucous Of Sadly Various Kinds

And Of Course, Blood

Chapter Seven Pedestrians

Speed Bumps Waiting To Be Created

The Day Was Yet Young

The Loons

Harold… Not His Fault… But Scary Anyway

The Lesson Of Harold

Sadly He Was Not The Only One

Margaret

Chapter Eight The Horrid Cab Driver Stories Continued

Clint, Carrie And More

A Good Day To Be Driving Your Cab

Digging For Change

Scumbags… And Everybody Knows One

DEDICATED

TO:

All The Men & Women

Who Strive to be a Great Provider

Of a Valuable Service Whom Few Appreciate

But Even So Many of You Take For Granted

And those of YOU who are too CHEAP to tip, take heed…

Disclaimer

May you be aware, and those of you who are wise enough to read this, that the folks, the cab company and the town in this narrative might not exist. As I write this tale of taxi woe, it does not reflect upon the character or good will of many decent persons. Much of this entertaining narrative is full of lies, much is not. It is up to you to decide. So enjoy and learn…

CHAPTER ONE

Lead By Hormones

A FTER A CALL from Jane, she having returned to living in the Boston area I thought it might be a good idea to spend Labor Day weekend in her loving embrace. Even though the lengthy travel from Florida to Boston was involved, and was indeed of the most unpleasant sort, I went anyway.

This was an unhappy trip for multiple reasons. The bus line in question made their money by stopping at every village and hamlet along the way. Often to pick up one toothless human or a package. So finally, after picking up and dropping off many unsanitary humans and questionable packages I arrived in Boston. To my surprise I survived this journey. This in the midst of a drunken bender only a 22 year old could achieve and think himself lucky.

I stumbled from the Sarasota bus into downtown Boston, clearly to the relief of the driver, who was somewhat shaky on the details of my departure from Florida. Having been shoved into the late night bus by my German grandmother who was thrilled to be rid of me. Though little was said to the driver in any language he could comprehend. He did comprehend that even though I was extremely intoxicated I was harmless and would soon be snoring.

In my stupor I thought that my family was merely being supportive. Not so, they had their own agenda. Namely, to be rid of me.

I think my family loaded my drunken self onto the bus to avoid any future problems and subsequent police visits. They were tired of having to deal with my stupid self and I was confused by their attitude. What? An alcohol soaked teenager with a fine layering of ’70’s type drugs seemed to be a problem for them. I did not understand.

So, for them, my suffering family, the call from Jane to invite me northward was a Godsend for those who raised me. Oh yes, a one way ticket north, very far away, for my intoxicated and stupid form was the right thing to preserve their own sanity. A worthy investment as it were. If I had been your relative during those years, you would have helped them to transport me over state lines merely to enjoy my absence, thereby restoring peace and harmony within your own once tranquil lives. Who could blame them, since at 22 I was an ass of almost biblical proportions? So I did not understand their objections in my stupor as to why they found my activities objectionable. So what if I scored some nameless females and brought them home to perform un-natural acts on the couch in front of my horrified family? I was hormonal and my teenage needs had to be met. So much for my elder relatives, some of whom enjoyed the spectacle. My escapades amongst my family were legendary and also the source of much chortling and distain.

And so there, in the frosty Boston environs, which awaited me, the object of my desire, to wit, a young woman whom we have already identified as Jane.

About Jane

Jane and I had met in Sarasota, Florida the year before. It was a night of besotted revelry in a local bar and we fell into bed together. Friends with benefits is how we described it at the time. Imagine that?

This was easy to do given the absurdity of our youth and the appropriate level of alcohol and hormones. Because we were young, extremely stupid, and often quite intoxicated, we had the most casual of relationships. Basically we just got together when we were feeling lonely, as it were, and nobody else clean or more attractive was available. To be sure, our cleanliness standards took a back seat to the level of horniness in question, the time of night, and desperation to get laid with some-one you actually liked but with others it did not really matter.

After several months of gratuitous sex, one day Jane announced to me that she was moving back north to live with her parents in Massachusetts. I was crushed. Where would I find another easy… er, welcoming female friend in the middle of an intoxicated night? My male concerns didn’t matter as she left anyway. I bid her a fond and tearful farewell as she boarded her transportation northward leaving my horned self behind.

She knew full well, her being very cute and sexy, that I could be easily replaced. Finding another warm male form would be no great chore, no matter the location. Here is the females’ great advantage: They always know when they will have male company. But of course it is when they decide. Given that they have all the lovely parts the male desires the female knows full well her power.

As for the rest of us, the hapless males who might say the wrong thing or not smell properly, the female in question, will just move on to the next prospect. Hers is a veritable smorgasbord of easy male flesh. My options were far more limited particularly since I was an idiot and too full of himself.

Too bad, pretty boy, superb dental hygiene, great hair and cool clothes not withstanding, your attempt at a night of lustful sex is over for she holds all the cards and see’s through your foolish façade. Brothers get over yourself, you are not all that. Go home in abject shame of your failure. Hopefully you don’t get pulled over on the way. You know were the lube is when you get there. Have fun by your stupid self.

Once Gone

Back to me, a return to the tale. After Jane left, I was bereft. What was I to do? It had taken me many hours of hard male work to find a willing wench who would accommodate my selfish and many male needs without question and now she was leaving for greener pastures. Damn! This could not be! To cultivate another hook up would take time. This, of course, was my immediate mannly goal.

So, in all my manly thinking, I determined to let her go. I knew she would be sorry that she left such a fine specimen of manhood behind. (I mean, after all, how many 22 year old horny males could be in Boston anyway?) Ha! I was sorely mistaken.

This decision to travel north was made, after the many tearful, pathetic phone calls to her parents’ house inquiring as to her well being and current whereabouts. Of course, during these calls I had left the number were I could be reached during my