The people I've had...

I’ve been in this 362 year old game oh but a year ladies and fellow droogs, I’m a mere pup. In that short time though I’ve dealt with thousands of people from all sorts of backgrounds and walks of life. Mostly pleasant, some not so, but regardless, you’re gonna hear about it anyways. Drug dealer Someone hails your cab and asks you to take them somewhere, you’re not gonna argue. Then they start giving it “Yo cabbie, stop here I’ll be two secs, I swear…” so you oblige, thinking nothing of it. Then it happens 7 more times and you’re starting to get the picture, especially when in between drop offs all you’re hearing in the back is… “What? Nah bruv where I met you last week… Yeah, there…” followed by “BRUV I SWEAR DOWN IF YOU AINT GOT THE MONEY BY 8, I’LL CUT YOU”. What am I gonna do though? If it happened again I’d report it to the police (as every law abiding citizen should feel obliged to :D), but he payed up and once you’ve got them in, you can’t exactly pull over and say “Sir, I don’t agree with your lifestyle choice, can you fuck right off, if you please?”. Never make assumptions in this world, especially in this job. It can get you killed… Bird from Zimbabwe A week before Christmas I was at Kings Cross, around about 10:30pm. Like most winter days, it’d been cold and drizzly. Hot cocoa in hand, steamed up windows in front, yeah, you get the picture… I was wondering wether to keep grafting or call it day, when a frail old lady steps up to my window in utter pieces. Tears rolling, with nothing but a small wheeled suitcase at hand. I immediately think “Christ, here we go…” I’ll shamefully admit, but I wind the window down and have a listen to what she has to say… She goes on to tell me that she’s from Zimbabwe but has been forced to flee the country after her husband was killed in a raid on her farm. She has no family, no place to stay and doesn’t know what to do. I hum and arr for a bit, suggesting she goes to the police, a hostel etc but she says she’s done all that and no one wanted to know. I suggested a few hotels, but it was a week before christmas and she’d been to all the ones she could find, and all were full. If I can’t help, she’s on the streets basically. An old lady, must have been pushing 80. So I tell her to jump in, I’ll do my best. She thanks me and on I go. So I’m running around the back end of bloomsbury, down euston road, around kings cross, all round cartwright gardens where all the little known boutique hotels are, and after trying at least 20-odd places, finally. I phoned the Imperial Hotel, one of the biggest in London and just off Russell Square. It was the last chance saloon, make or break, and what d’ya know, they had a late cancellation. I let them know I’ll be there in literally minutes, and that was one good deed done for the day. A christmas miracle! If you allow me to be so bold… It was weird though, I gave her my card and told her if she had any issue or just needed someone to talk things through with, give us a bell. She never did, and she didn’t tip or really say thanks either. Just grabbed her bags and left. I wasn’t offended though, you’ve got to put things into perspective. After going through what she’s been through and at her age, in a strange country with no family and no place to live, I guess you’ve got bigger things on your mind … Dad on his deathbed The grand old question I get. “Why learn the knowledge when you can use a sat nav?” Okay, let me give you an example of what we do and what the knowledge offers a city. So one day last autumn I picked up a guy around Hampstead Heath, near Whitestone pond. I’d just dropped off down near bishops avenue (or ‘billionaires row’, as it’s locally known…) and was daydreaming my way back into the action. But bang, I’ve seen an hand go up and thought “oi, this is gonna be a day an half if this keeps up…”. This guy was disheveled, middle aged in a unbutton shirt with a creased up blazer on. Looks a bit worst for wear, but it was early afternoon so how drunk could he be? Well, he wasn’t drunk at all. His dad was dying in a hospital in south london and had to get there pronto, so I’ve told him to get in and within seconds, I’m on my way without even knowing where the final destination would be yet. It was bound to be Kings college, St Thomas’s, or Guys hospital in southwark I thought. Due to having “the knowledge”, I know where my vehicle is in relation to the overall map of london at all times and know what bridges I can use to get me there quickest, all worked out almost instantly by the time you’ve got in. All you’ve got to do is say the name of an area and boom, we’re on route. I ask what area in south london it is, he says it’s in Camberwell. “Kings college?” I continue to probe, “Yeah, that’s the one” he replies, but then trails off with a… “Well, at least I think it is…” So yeah, I’m hardly filled confidence by this point, but sod it, it’s definitely in Camberwell, we’ll iron out of the details as we need to. I’ve headed towards Camden, but it’s gridlocked, and I know it’ll only get worst the closer I get to waterloo bridge. The most direct route is one long line from Hamstead, through Camden and over the thames. Thing is, it’s where all the buses, cars, HGV’s typically go because the other routes and side streets are too confusing and narrow for any mere mortal. So without a second thought, I’ve started cutting up it fine through primrose hill, down regents park, skimming through the backstreets of mayfair and st james, down by buck palace and horse guards avenue, and few more streets later, I’m at lambeth bridge. Bus lanes, all the way ^_^. Lambeth, albert embankment, black prince and kennington road later, and what d’ya you know, we’ve made it there with time to spare. Man I’m the nuts... “Woah!” He says as I pull up, “This ain’t this one! It’s behind a train station, this isn’t it!” In this ultra angry and super posh voice. My heart sinks. I’d failed the man as well as myself, but it’s gonna cost him much more than mere pride though… Maybe I should have made sure I knew where exactly, if I had any doubts… I learnt a hard lesson that day. But then I had a thought, there is another hospital round here after all. I can swear there is, couldn’t quite pin point the name myself at the time as it’s one you’re hardly ever tested on, but I could visualise it. The Maudsley Psychiatric hospital, around the back of Denmark Hill Station. It just had to be that one, otherwise, we’re all doomed… 5 minutes later. We get there, he’s over the moon (well, considering the circumstances…), and everyone lived happily ever after. Apart from the Dad, but you can’t pin that one on me, I won’t have it… But yeah, a sat nav does the job, but it’s just a digitalised map that approximates a route. We do that much and more. They can teach a computer to beat the worlds best chess players and quiz masters, but they still haven’t designed a navigation system sophisticated enough to beat a london cabbie. It’s true. They’ve tested it countless times, try searching for it yourself if you don’t believe me. By the time your pre-ordered car has arrived and you’ve set off, a cabbie would have had you on board and without even knowing the final destination, can be a good 10 minutes ahead of any competitor. So ask yourself, If you’re ever in a spot of bother in London and need to get somewhere, fast, who are you gonna trust? Some knobhead with a phone, or the most knowledgable and rigorously tested taxi service the world’s ever known? It’s a no brainer people, we’re superheroes with an enlarged hypo-campus as a superpower, sort of like Dr X from X-MEN but without the telekinesis angle, though that would be pretty cool… I’ve got other, probably much better tales involving my dealings with the london public, including the super rich and mildly famous (had Matt Stone, creator of South Park in my cab ;D) but I’m no fool, and I am quite the tease, so I’ll be saving them odd gems for another day. Be lucky folks, and thanks for reading ;D