Sketchbook Cabbie

Sign Language While You Wait

As I wait for the debarkation of the Humboldt Ferry at the Larkspur Landing Terminal, I notice two people signing:

Vistas at the Sausalito Taxi Stand

Lines of migrating albatros skirt and stir up the surface of the bay.
The colored sails of Islander 34’s lean into the wind funneled through the Golden Gate.
I take in vistas framed through trees on the Bridgeway.
Tourists ride bikes with maps trailing tall orange flags.
But it’s the multicolored peloton that owns the road.
They wander like peregrines and take pictures like sandpipers.
Mission-style porticos, elephant fountains and rows of signs.
The sound of a far off violin playing Stardust for change.
Accents foreign collide with seagull cackle.
Buy a shirt then take off after a visit to the Pay for Parking kiosk.

Moving On

For years Verma has lived on a boat at the Loch Lomond Marina. As I hold the cab door open for her and the many plastic bags she carries, I notice how tattered she looks and how life seems to have treated her rough. But as I turn the meter on and pull away, our conversation belies the visual impression I have. She tells me she’s off via several buses and trains on her first trip ever outside of California. She’s meeting her carnie boyfriend in Austin, Texas where they will be considering marriage. “I’m excited”, she says. “I may finally get to sell my boat”. It sounds like she has a future plan, but as conversations trend deeper, she’s sharing some family history. “I’m still getting over the death of my mother and sister. I got a lot of grief counseling”. To me it sounds like she’s moving on. It’s a good thing to actively step away from the sad and familiar. Let the past wish the future well. I drop her and her bags at the San Rafael Bus Depot and wish her on her way. I switch the car into idle and watch as traffic moves past me.

Released to My Cab: 2 Cons Free

San Quentin Prison releases parolees every morning at the San Rafael Bus Depot. The non-violent criminals get released on Saturday and Sunday at 8:00am and 10:00am. As I sit in my vehicle, the unmarked prison van with darkened windows pulls up and lets out about a dozen freedom-loving cons. In an instant they all scramble out in their gray sweat suits to the buses or to one of the waiting cabs. Two older black dudes approach mine. The ‘Queen’, as I want to call him, wants to negotiate a flat fee to downtown San Francisco. A fare on the meter runs about $70 plus toll but I figure I’ll say $50 total since I need the gig. The Queen pays me first then enters my cab but soon demands a stop for a sandwich. I deal with it. After the detour at Subway we’re off south down Highway 101.

            Each man has been in San Quentin for about 80 days. It was crowded, they say. The Department of Corrections gives each release $1.10 for each day they’re in the joint. They're required to buy those gray sweats. With the payment of this cab fare they can’t have much money left for liquor, which is what the Queen is talking about purchasing next.  I get the sense the other dude doesn’t want to go back in. He wants me to drop him at the Goodwill Store at Mission and Van Ness to buy himself some new (used) clothes. At least one of them has the good sense to blend in. So that’s where I drop them both.  I bid them well. They say recidivism rates for men in the U.S. are at about 68%. Odds are I may have the Queen back in my cab after his next release. I provided them transportation and no judgment. It’s not up to me to do anything else.

New Jersey Family: Back to Reality

I’m parked at the taxi stand in Sausalito as tourists rush off the San Francisco Ferry. The New Jersey family approaches. Dad, Mom and the two kids want to go to the Marine Mammal Center. They’re so excited, especially the kids. For the past year, they’ve contributed to the Adopt-a-Seal  Program and more directly to the rehabilitation of Astro, the steller sea lion. Astro was brought to the Center as a pup with injuries from a shark. The vet staff brought him back to life, tagged him with GPS and returned him to the Pacific. After a few years he was back with Toxic Algae Poisoning, a tragically too common issue that seals are inflicted with. I take them on the short trip through the old Polaris missile tunnel to the Center just up from Rodeo Beach. I provide some of my tourism info. They are keen to know. I drop them off at the Center’s new building. The Center's funding campaign seems to be working. They request a return trip in an hour and a half. I drive them back around the Marin Headlands and use their camera to snap the photo for their next Christmas card, Golden Gate Bridge below and city beyond. Mother and young son are talking. “Would you like to live here’, she says. ‘No’, he says. ‘I want to go back reality.’ The young ones always need to go home.

Driving Gary Vaynerchuk

I picked up wine expert and motivational speaker Gary Vaynerchuk last week in my cab. He was doing an in-store promo for his book, Crush It! at Cost Plus in Corte Madera. We didn't talk much on that ride into the city. He was too busy on his cell checking in with family, selling cases of wine and being anxious about getting to see his beloved New York Jets play on a big screen in a bar in the Tenderloin. Watch this video from the Web 2.0 conference he spoke at.  You can't help but have it shift your thinking about selling and branding or about just creating a happy life. He reminded me of the EST seminar leader I had in the 80's. He was a veterinarian and talked about dogs like Gary talks about wine...in metaphor. He commands his audience. He says,"clap that up because it's the real shit"