In the world of taxi driving, a standby driver is a hack that shows up when he’s not scheduled to work in the hope that a car will be available. Here at Taxicab Depressions, it is a story spun by another driver. So allow me to toss the keys to my first standby driver, Andrew from Las Vegas. This story is from his blog “Las Vegas Cabbie Chronicles”.
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I loaded a couple at the Wynn. The doorman/Shaquille O’Neal lookalike opened the door and the young attractive brunette escorted by a well dressed middle aged gentleman climbed into the backseat. They made themselves comfortable and told me their destination of the MGM as Shaq thanked them for the dollar and closed the door. Upon hearing the destination, I reacted by noting the time and “MGM” down on my trip sheet and cheerily replied with an:
“Alrighty” was the first of only two words I said throughout the duration of this ride. We’ll get to the other word in minute but for now I feel like expressing that I don’t know why I said “alrighty”. I never say “alrighty”. I’m sure there are other cabbies out there that say “alrighty” much better than I do. In the future I think I’ll leave the “alrightys” to them.*
It was only seconds after proclaiming their destination and our hero was already on first base. He quickly rounded second as we were waiting out the red light leaving the Wynn property. After the light changed I made the left and as we passed by the Fashion Show Mall I caught a glimpse of the brunettes very nice mammaries in the rear-view, for they were already out of her blouse. The BLVD was wicked busy so I made the left onto Twain and then a right on Koval. As we made the turn the brunette hiked up her dress and mounted on top of our hero cowgirl style. Seconds later it became obvious that these two people were fucking in my backseat.
I honestly wasn’t sure what to think at first. I guess I knew it was only a matter of time before this day eventually came and surprisingly it wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable of a situation as I thought it would be. One thing that was weird about it though was that they just got it on like I wasn’t even there. They didn’t even ask for permission or anything and I don’t even let people smoke in the backseat without asking. But come to think of it, what would that conversation have looked like anyway? “Hey man, is it cool if I bang this chick in your backseat, I have a condom?” “Um yeah, go get um tiger.” But either way I wasn’t going to stop them. I think this falls under some player hating bylaw or something. So as we cruised south-bound on Koval, the brunette began to moan rather loudly and I was puzzled as to how I managed to successfully set my tent up while all my camping gear was at home collecting dust in the storage closet.
We had to stop at the red light crossing over Flamingo and I happened to pull up alongside another cab from the same company I drive for. I recognized the driver from chatting with him at the yard from time to time. He did a double take in the direction of my backseat and then gave me this bug eyed stare. You know that look that says, “Hey dude, did you realize that you have two people fucking in your backseat?” I recognized his shocked appearance and acknowledged it with a smile and the universal upwards chin movement that says, “What’s up?”
The light changed and we continued southbound. After catching the light green at Harmon, I realized that in only a matter of seconds we would be pulling into the MGM driveway. Thinking that it probably wouldn’t be the greatest of ideas to pull up to the front door of the worlds 2nd largest hotel with two people fucking in the backseat, I decided it would be best for all parties involved to cruise around the block as many times as necessary. No sooner than I thought that our hero completed the deed.
I glanced up at my trip sheet that’s rubber banded to the sun visor above my head and realized that this entire fiasco began a mere 5 minutes ago. Considering the time I couldn’t help but think what an amature our hero is. I mean 4 minutes is all you’ve got man? C’mon bro. But then I thought, wait a minute, maybe he just realized that we were almost there and that he had better go ahead and finish before the ride ended. In which case that’s actually kind of impressive if you think about it. So I went from thinking this guy was a schmuck to man this guy must be a pro in a matter of seconds. A fucking pro.
As we entered MGM’s property we drove over the speed bumps running alongside the massive parking garage as the brunette sat back on the seat and began to put herself back together. While doing so she posed the question:
“What’s your name?”
I was a little puzzled as to why she was asking me my name at a time like this but nonetheless I responded with undoubtedly, unequivocally, the dumbest fucking thing I have ever said in my entire life: my name.
I knew immediately that it was the dumbest thing I have ever said because at the same exact moment my dumb ass replied, our hero did as well:
I thanked God for our simultaneous responses because due to that I don’t think the brunette heard me. I guess I just figured she must’ve known his name already. How silly of me. Our couple continued their small talk until we arrived at the front door. Tony tipped me very handsomely and after they departed the cab it appeared that they walked off in different directions.
I completed my trip sheet log by noting the drop off time and then drove around the circle to the back of the staging line at MGM in a meager attempt at going back to work like nothing had ever happened. With any luck, my next fare will be normal and my camping equipment can begin collecting dust again.
*RIP Mitch Hedberg
Follow Andrew on Twitter @LVCabChronicles