Filthy Hilarious Cab Conversations

[vishnu666]

Sally, an old girlfriend of mine, is a bartender at a popular college bar. On their 21st birthday, her patrons ditch their fake IDs like venomous snakes shedding their skins. Their friends order them every shot under the sun, trying to injure the birthday person with alcohol. They stumble out of the bar, puking their poisoned guts out, projectile style. They pull on my cab's locked doors. Fuck no! WELCOME TO ADULTHOOD!

Jimmy, an old punk rock buddy of mine, is a regular customer at Sally's bar. Jimmy is a sexual predator, crusting to fuck as many young beautiful college girls half his age or die trying.
Sally was tired of hearing complaints from her female patrons: That crusty old punk rocker sucks! Get rid of him! Sally heard rumors Jimmy liked rough sex and was into bondage and S & M. There were rumors of "Roofies".
Sally was sick of Jimmy's game and cooked
up a little surprise for him. She called me and told me what was up. I was more than willing to help.
SALLY: Hey Jimmy, check out the fetching sluts checking out yer package!
Jimmy almost dropped his Miller Lite 40: Where?
SALLY: Are yew blind old man? The beautiful young sluts at the end of the bar staring at yew!
Jimmy wasn't about to tell Sally his Viagra addiction was robbing his sight.
Jimmy was a world-class pheromone sniffer. Snorting cocaine had nothing on snorting Viagra or smelling pussy. Jimmy's nose led him straight to his prey.
Jimmy strolled over to the beautiful young sluts like Julius Caesar crossed with Al Pacino and Jimmy didn't pretend to be polite or ask their names because in the short or long run it didn't matter!
JIMMY: HEY SLUTS WHAT UP? SALLY SAYS IT'S PARTY TIME!
SLUTS: GRANDPAPPY WE LOVE TO PARTY BIG TIME! HOW MUCH MONEY YEW GOT?
Jimmy winced, losing half his swagger hauling out his leather biker wallet chained to his ass.
SLUT #1: A thick black biker wallet stuffed with a stack of dead President shit!
SLUT #2: And the thick shit is the shit I'm gonna lick when I decide to lick it! Hey Cowboy, wanna buy us a drink?
Jimmy peeked in his wallet: One lonely $100, two $5s and four singles.
Jimmy was doing some serious deciding:
SLUTS vs. RENT
SLUTS vs. CAR INSURANCE
SLUTS vs. FOOD
SLUTS vs. EVERYTHING IN THE WORLD KIND AND DECENT
Jimmy ran into the bathroom, crushed up four extra strength Viagra tablets and snorted them on the sink.
The sluts sat on their divine young fulcrums, sipping their drinks, staring at Jimmy's crotch.
The blood that made a beeline to Jimmy's raging stiffy starved his brain of oxygen but he managed to conjure up a whopper: Hey sluts lets get outta here I got an ounce of blow, a keg of Jagermeister, 1000 hits of X, a kilo of kind bud, a carton of Magnum condoms and rolls and rolls of extra soft virgin toilet paper back at the crib.
The sluts smiled: Sally, call us a cab!
SALLY: I got the best taxi driver in Minneapolis parked outside. And here's a little something I concocted.
Sally produced three black drinks. Jimmy slammed his like water.
JIMMY: That's fantastic! What do yew call it?
SALLY: Heaven. Yer cab's waiting. HAVE FUN!! And girls, knock yerselves out, not knocked up!
SLUTS: Don't worry, we got protection!
JIMMY: Whatta got, a German Shepard?
Slut #1 squeezes Jimmy's unit extra hard: No, but yew got a weiner dog!
Jimmy and the sluts stumble out of the bar and into my cab. Jimmy wedges himself between the beautiful young fragrant sluts. They attack him like Oprah on a baked ham. One grabs his shit while the other sticks her pulpy tongue in his ear.
ME: Hey Jimmy, how yew doing?
JIMMY (groaning): Paul Singleton? Where yew been?
ME: I don't hang out at college bars much.
SLUT #1: Yew should try it. Yew might get fucked.
SLUT #2: Or sucked. Or fucked and sucked.
ME: I'll keep that into mind. Where can I take yew wonderful human beings tonight?
SLUTS #1 and #2: SLUTLAND!!
JIMMY: Where's Slutland?
ME, SLUTS #1 and #2: Wisconsin! Just down the road from Jeffrey Dahmer's house!
JIMMY: How much is that gonna cost?
SLUTS #1 and #2: Everything yew got and more!
JIMMY (weakly): How much to 22nd and Garfield?
ME: How much yew got?
I run the meter to Jimmy's crib. He gives me the fare, no tip. Cheap bastard. The sluts had to help Jimmy up the steps. I sensed Jimmy was at a disadvantage.

I didn't hear about the results of Jimmy's encounter for six months. I ran into Sally at a rock show.
SALLY: Those girls did a real number on Jimmy. They pushed him down, slapped him a few times, stripped him naked, chained him to a radiator, painted his toenails, made him eat their pussies and Hot Karled and Cleveland Steamrollered him! Jimmy didn't like what was happening and demanded to be released. The girls refused, put on their clothes, ripped off his cellphone and walked out the door. I haven't seen Jimmy since.
ME: Is he OK?
SALLY: I assume he's still breathing. Last month, he mailed me a turd for my birthday.
ME: How unimaginative. John Waters did that 40 years ago.
SALLY: I hope he learned his lesson. Maybe he'll find a nice cougar and settle down.
ME: I doubt it. Punk rockers always take the hard road.
SALLY: I hear the rich widow circuit is fairly lucrative.
ME: I don't think Jimmy is into money or settling down.
SALLY: Gay?
ME: Gay.

[vishnu666]

Picked up three hellraisers, two girls, one guy @ the 331. One of the ladies had the largest set of natural jugs I've ever laid eyes on. They were spending the night @ the Aloft after drinking and raising hell @ the NE bars. I told them about my taxi blog and how high (or low) the bar was set to be enshrined forever.
The girl with the giant boobs asked: How about I jump up there and stick my ass in yer face?
Me: I'd love it, and even though I'm the best cabdriver in Mpls., I don't have X-ray vision. I can't see thru yer ass!

[vishnu666]

One reason I love my job is conversing with complete strangers. Once again, I was reminded that pre-conceived notions can be completely off base. In ten minutes, I met two very nice people. I would love to have drinks with them and shoot the shit.

Picked up Verne Gagne's niece and her very large male companion @ the Rail Station, a working class bar across the street from Rainbow Taxi World Headquarters. She was middle-aged, missing three front lower teeth. He was huge, multiple tatoos and had "prison" written all over him. I was expecting the worst.
Me: Where can I take yew wonderful people tonite?
Him: 49th and 30th Av. S.
I whipped a u-turn. I've discovered that if yew make an aggressive driving move, it makes potential trouble makers think twice before starting shit.
Her: You drive like a NYC cab driver.
Me: I take that as a compliment. How was yer Rail Station experience tonite?
Her: What do you have to drink @ your house?
Him: Beer.
Her: That's what I drink. Hey cab driver, I'm not going over to this guy's house to have sex with him. I just want to be friendly.
Me: Yer a grown woman. Yew can make yer own decisions. He seems to be a nice guy.
I felt both of them relax. The ice was broken.
Her: Do yew know who Verne Gagne is?
Me: The wrestler? Of course I do. I watched wrestling all the time when I was a kid.
Her: (proudly) Verne Gagne is my uncle.
Me: Really? Cool!
Her: He's not doing so well. He's got Alzheimer's really bad.
Me: That's too bad. It runs in my family. My (blank) is starting to show symptoms. All us kids can do is be there for her.
Her (tearing up) My Dad died from it. The last time I saw him he didn't know who I was.
Me: That's a terrible thing when yer mind is gone and yer body still works.
Him: Didn't yer Uncle hurt somebody @ the nursing home?
Her: He body slammed his room-mate and killed him. They didn't prosecute because he didn't know what he was doing.
Him (changing the subject) Are there cameras in this cab? Is this being recorded?
Me: No, don't worry. I do have a blog where I share my best stories.
Him: I was wondering if I was gonna be on HBO.
Me: ITS TIME FOR CASH CAB! What is the tallest building in Minneapolis?
Them: IDS!!
Me: Correct! Yew have won a million dollars on Cash Cab!
Them: YEA!!
Me: Before the IDS was built, what was the tallest building in Minneapolis?
Them: FOSHAY!!
Me: Also correct! Sorry, but I really don't have any money.
We pull up to the house.
Her: My Uncle would have put you in the Sleeper for lying!
Me: I like Baron von Raschke. The Claw! What about the Crusher and Dick the Bruiser?
They start play wrestling in the backseat, applying various holds.
Me: Ding ding ding! The round is over! $8.50!
Him (handing me a $20) Keep it.
Me: Thank yew very much! Yew guys rock!

[Mild Thing]

Here's another Gagne sex story:

http://www.startribune.com/local/118799109.html

[vishnu666]

I'm sadly realizing women cannot hold their liquor. I've suffered three pukers in two months: all female.
I was sitting outside 1st Av. A bouncer and a former Rainbow customer recognized me. He puts an inebriated female hipster in my cab.
Him: Take her to the Crown Plaza, Bloomington.
Me: OK.
Her (groaning): Somebody dosed me!
Me: That sucks! Are yew gonna get sick?
Her (groaning again): No. Do yew think my car is gonna be OK tonite?
Me: Where is it?
Her: (pointing): Over there.
She pointed to the unattended parking lot between 8th and 9th Sts.
Me: I'll find out.
I pull into the parking lot directly behind 1st Av's "In" driveway. I tap my horn and zip down my window. The foreigner manning the booth shoots me the Evil Eye. How dare I disturb him without forking over any cash?
He opens his window.
Me: My passenger had too much to drink. Is her car gonna be OK?
Him: I don't know. If you want, you can park it here.
Her: I can't drive. Will yew move my car for me? I'll pay yew.
I scanned the street for a parking spot. Absolutely nowhere halfway legal to park my cab.
And then the line of cars behind me waiting to park start laying on their horns.
The parking lot attendant is fuming now. He has to get off his ass and direct traffic.
I back up and start rolling.
Me (lying): If yew get yer car early enough, I'm sure it's OK.
Her: Take me to the hotel. I don't feel so good.
I have two problems.
1) There are two Crown Plaza hotels in Bloomington.
2) I knew she was gonna blow. It was when and not if. I wanted to get her to that fucking hotel as fast as I could.
She had no idea which Crown Plaza she was staying at.
Me: Listen. If yew think yer gonna get sick, let me know so I can pull over.
Her: I'll give yew five minutes notice. Promise.
I thought: I'll set my fucking egg timer right now!
I start rolling down 394 West. My hunch is her hotel is on the Strip, 494 and 100.
I had to keep her awake and talking.
Me: What did yew drink?
Her: Two beers and two vodkas.

Liquor before beer, in the clear
Beer before liquor, never sicker

Who ever wrote that was a poet, and alcoholic and probably not a barfer.
Me: I've heard of people getting dosed @ 1st Av. I don't understand how somebody could do that.
I looked in the rear view mirror. Her face was gone. She was lying down horizontal on the seat.
Me: PLEASE SIT UP! STAY AWAKE!
Her (mumbling): I'm awake.
Me: Can yew sit up?
Her: In a minute.
I think: Fine. She won't or can't sit up. Her mouth and stomach occupy the same horizontal plane. If she sat up, the puke would have to defy gravity. Plus, she'd be in the proper position to get out quick, hurl and get back in.
Me: PLEASE SIT UP!!
Her: I can't. I don't wanna get sick!
I give up. If she blows, she's paying the Puke Charge.
Me: I see yer hotel! One minute away!
I slow down, turn right on 84th, left on the frontage road. Four blocks to go. I hit the parking lot. I can see the front door. Thirty feet to go.
Me: We made it!
Her (gurgling): Crown Plaza . . . Bleeeluuuccckk!
Me: And yew just puked in my cab!
We are at the front door. She opens the door and lets Round #2 fly, in full view of a half-dozen of her slacker co-workers.
Her: (whining): I tried to warn yew!
Me: Now yer gonna have to pay the Puke Charge!
Puking her guts out has cleared her head. She snaps into Money Mode.
Her: How much is it?
Me: (not wanting to look): Between $25 and $50 dollars. How bad is it?
Her: All over the back seat.
Me: I'll be fair. Split it down the middle. $37.50 for the Puke Charge. $35.50 for the fare equals $73.00
Her (dickering): How about I give yew $23.00 cash and yew run my card for $40?
Me (at the end of my rope): OK.
She gives me three puke drenched $1s, a puke drenched $20 and her corporate credit card. I grab a credit card slip and realize I have lost my pen. I dig deep into my backpack. No spare.
Me: Do yew see a pen back there?
Her: No.
Me: Do yew have a pen?
Her (indigent): DO I LOOK LIKE I HAVE A PEN?
Me (jumping out with her credit card): I'll be right back!
I walk over to her hipster co-workers: Any yew guys have a pen?
Hipsters: No. Sorry man.
Bullshit they don't. I'm blowing smoke out my ears. I stomp in the hotel to the front desk. The clerk senses my mental state.
Me: I'm a cabdriver. I need to borrow a pen to fill out a credit card slip. I'll bring it right back.
The clerk hands me a cheap Bic.
Clerk: You can have it!
I get back in and run her card for $40.
Her: Can yew do me a favor?
Me: What?
Her: Drop me off at the side door. I don't want my boss to see me.
I do as she asks.
Her: I'm really sorry.
Me: Don't worry about it. My night is done. After I get done cleaning my cab, I'm going to the bar.

END

[2fisted]

I think people are drinking more cheep booze due to the recession.

[vishnu666]

[Reverend Phil]

that's not new, some asshole roofied me at 1st ave, then followed me into the can and punched me in the mouth.....saved by friends....but there are some cowardly fuckers out there.

[vishnu666]

[vishnu666]

Picked up an exotic dancer/stripper/escort @ BJ's, destination St. Louis Park. Her address: 13xx I-DA-HO.

[vishnu666]

Two Tales of Loneliness, Desperation, Horniness, and Determination

Julia and Willie #1, 2, 3 and 4

My friend Julia (name changed to protect the guilty) works as a waitron @ a semi-respectable NE bar. She is beautiful, intelligent, sexy, creative and unbelievably horny. I would like nothing more than to wine, dine, bring her home and show her this old punk rocker can bring it! Unfortunately, she likes black men and I'm almost twice her age: INSTANT DISQUALIFICATION!!
Julia confides her problems with men. She has almost a Zen-like tranquillity when she talks about her paramours which doesn't come close with what she's put up with.
Hilarious fact #1: All of Julia's former and current boyfriends/lovers/booty calls are named Willie! I get them mixed up. Julia was living with Willie #1 when we first met. I know she loved him. He returned the favor by cheating on her, threatening her with physical violence and refusing to pack up and leave her apartment (her name, not his was on the lease) when asked. Their relationship deteriorated. The 5-0 was called. Julia was told she couldn't have him evicted, which still puzzles me. So she split, eating the lease and Willie #1 was history.
Julia impressed me. She left Willie #1 with little more than the clothes she was wearing, knowing "stuff is just stuff and can be replaced" but yer life is yer life. Julia moved into her girlfriend Trudy's house ova' Norf'.
Julia met Willie #2 while we going thru the drive thru @ a McDonald's drive-thru. Willie #2 was working the window. Julia took a shine to him and they exchanged digits while Willie #2 was handing over her Fish sandwich. I didn't have a clue what was up! Julia must have flashed him because his eyes were saucers and he didn't even try with the bullshit Hey baby hey baby . . .
Julia has the smoothest, sexiest, cooing, almost subservient yet extremely confident white/black girl voice she dials up to black dudes she fancies: See ya tomorro'. I hopes yer working! Willie #2 almost fell out the drive thru window into the back seat of my cab.
Meanwhile, Julia started a fling with Willie #3. He was almost her boyfriend, ie, they did stuff like going to the movies as well as screwing.
About a month ago, I picked Julia up @ work. She was upset: I'm sick of being a muthafuckin' mistress! All these dudes got girlfriends and they come running to me when they get in fights! They promise they're gonna break up with these bitches, but after a day or two they go crawling home with their tail between their legs! I'm sick of it!
I told her that all men are dogs, would stick their shit in just about anything with a pussy if drunk/horny/desperate enough, and furthermore, thats what men are biologically wired to do and any man who thinks otherwise has zero juice in his stones or gay.
Meanwhile, I start hanging out with this young brother whose name of course was Willie. Willie #4 was educated, a neat dresser, polite, comes from a good family, has a decent job and a car. And he's starting Law School in the fall. After seeing and hearing about the hood rats Julia was running with just to get her nut, I owed her the chance to meet Willie #4.
Getting Julia and Willie #4 to meet was very difficult. I had to ask him, straight up, when we were shitfaced drunk, (the only time words aren't distorted by filters):
Me: YEW GOT A GIRLFRIEND?
I was watching him like a hawk, knowing every twitch, eye aversion, change in body language that meant he was about to lie.
Willie #4 returned my stare and didn't blink: No.
I still have a hard time believing a young, smart, well-groomed brother wasn't getting any action. If he was lying, he was a World Class Bullshiter.
Me: Do I have a girl for you!
I am a terrible match maker. I know that now. Willie #4 and Julia are my friends, they are the same age and seemed compatible.
The first time I tried to introduce them, it slipped my mind it was Julia's night off. We walk into her place of work like dummies and she wasn't there. DO'H!
The second time was worse: Willie #4 was supposed to meet me @ 11:30 and I would make the introductions. Problem was Willie #4 was running late.
Julia (hissing @ me on the phone): What's up? Its 11:45 and my ride is @ 12.
Me: Yew know how slow black people drive! I'll hurry his ass up!
Me (to Willie #4): Where yew at?
Willie #4: I'm rolling up right now.
Right now in Willie #4's world meant rolling up @ 11:55.
I jump out of my cab while Willie #4 is parking. Julia is almost finished with her shift.
Me: How was yer night?
Julia: Slow. Not very exciting.
Willie #4 walks thru the door.
Me: Hopefully it will get exciting now!
I make the introductions. Willie #4 and Julia make small talk. Its time for me to split.
What I found out later was Willie #3 was Julia's ride and when he walked into the bar two minutes later and saw them chatting, it was in Julia's words: awkward. DO'H!!

END

Sylvia, the One-Legged Hooker

Last week, I got a call @ Champions, no name, just "bartender."
When I drove in the parking lot, "Sylvia" was leaning against the wall, smoking a Kool Filter King. She was darker than the minor keys of a piano. She was about 40-60 years old. She could have been Aunt Esther from "Sanford and Son" twin sister: butt ugly! She was wearing a skintight blue microskirt. She had silver metal crutches because she was missing her right leg.
I got out of the car, looking for the bartender.
Sylvia: Who yew hea' for?
Me: I don't know. The bartender called for one.
Sylvia (lying): He called fo' me and Iz goin' to Brooklyn Park!
I ignored her and stepped into the club. It was "Ladies Night" and it was beyond packed. No way could I even see the bar. Finding the correct customer was hopeless.
Esther, I mean Sylvia was leaning against my cab: Tolds yew it wuz for me!
I give her my Robo-Cop stare: Yew going to Brooklyn Park? That's at least $40. Yew got money?
Sylvia (offended): Iz gots money. Cantz gets into a cab wit' out money! Uh uh!

The Mpls Cab Ordinance states a driver can ask to see the money if he/she has reason to suspect the customer is unable to pay the fare.

Me: Where is it then?
Sylvia: Its in my bra, muthafucka. Don't yew embarrass me by making me pull it out in da muthafuckin' parking lot.
Me: (ashamed): Sorry. Get in.
She hops over and opens the front passenger door: Canz Iz sits in front? Its easier for me to gets ins ands out.
I kick the front passenger seat back. Sylvia hops in and tosses her crutches in the back. She reeks of B.O., pussy, cigs, crack, pot, liquor and beer, enough stench that a gallon of cheap perfume couldn't begin to cover.
We exit the lot, heading for 94W.
Me: Where we going?
Sylvia: Franklins and Chicago.
I pull over on 31st and Pillsbury: That ain't Brooklyn Park.
Sylvia gently puts her rough skinned hand on mine: Honey, whats yer name?
Me: Chevy.
Sylvia (laughing): Yer folks named yew after a car?
Me: No they didn't. That's my cab driver name.
Sylvia: Whats yer real name?
Me: Paul. Now where we going?
Sylvia: Franklins and Chicago. Then ova' Norf'. Paul, I gonna be honest wit' yew. I'm a working girl and evens though I gots only one leg I know what yew white boys like and Iz gets the job done!
Me: (ignoring her) Yer going to go cop, right?
Sylvia: Ain't none of yer mothafuckin' bidness wha' I be doin' longs as I gots money!
Me: I ain't seen no money yet!
Sylvia (reaching into her bra, indigent): Yew white cab drivers never trust niggers!
She pulls out a wad of rumpled bills, a $20, two $5s and a bunch of $1s.
Sylvia: Yew all race prejudice!
I was about to say I didn't like obnoxious crack 'hos with no money and the color of their skin had nothing to do with it.
Sylvia: Will yew drive muthafucka!
Me: (putting the car in gear) Yeah, I'll drive yew back to Champions. Yew can catch another cab.
Sylvia (turning on the water works): Yew gonna put out a crippled lady?
Me: Look. Yew have done nothing but lie to me, proposition me and insult me. This is my job. If yew want me to take yew somewhere, give me a deposit and shut yer mouth.
We're back @ Champions. Sylvia looks like she wants to slit my throat. She throws a $20 on the dash. I stuff it in my pocket.
Sylvia: Take me to Franklins and Chicago. And then wait for me. Round trip.
I'm thinking I just fucked myself. She bought herself a $20 ride and I was legally bound to drive her wherever she wanted to go until the meter hit $20.
We're rolling up Nicollet Ave.
Sylvia: Canz I use yer cellphone?
Never in a trillion years would I let a bitch like Sylvia use my phone. Her saving grace: She couldn't run out with it if she tried.
I dial the number and hand her my phone. I lock the doors and windows in case she gets cute.
Sylvia: Pit dere? Tell the muthafucka Iz in a cab! Yeah I want a twenty!
Me (growling): Gimme my phone!
She hands it back. We're @ the corner of Franklin and Park, instantly approached by six or eight "businessmen", on bikes and on foot. The cab, almost surrounded, is in drive. I have one foot on the brake and the other on the gas. They slowly block my escape routes.
Businessmen: What yew need? What yew want?
Me: I don't like this shit. Do what yew gotta do. I don't wanna see it and I don't wanna know about it so yer gonna have to get out and do what yew gotta do.
Sylvia (zipping down the window, ignoring me): WHERE PIT AT?
Young businessman on bike: Pit up @ the crib. What yew need?
Sylvia: I don't need no muthafucking soap!
And I didnt wanna get shot. I hit the gas, swerving to avoid the businessman on the bike, blasting north on Park Ave.
Sylvia: DER PIT!
I slam on the brakes, almost putting Sylvia thru the windshield.
I zip down my window: YO PIT!
Pit is a muscular black dude wearing a white T shirt, jeans and Air Jordans.
Pit (peering @ my cab): WHO DAT?
Me: I got Sylvia in my cab.
Pit stomps over and looks in: Mom, what in the hell are yew doing?
Sylvia (meekly): Just tryin' to have a good time, baby!
Pit opens the back passenger door, grabs Sylvia's crutches and helps her out of the cab. Sylvia heads for the sidewalk.
Pit (looking @ the meter): How much I owe yew?
Me: $12.
Pit pulls out a huge wad of dough. He gives me a $20.
Pit: Keep the change. I know my Ma can be a pain in the ass!

END

[Reverend Phil]

So after my divorce I get set up on a date, "She's nice, she's really fun, you'll have a good time" We talk on the phone once and agree to meet for a drink.
Me- Hi there
her- yeah hi, this is funny, I don't normally date white guys
Me- well this will be a change then
her- You like the Wolves?
Me -No, not really
Her- What kind of music you like?
Me- Punk and blues
her- I don't know either of those
Me- want a shot? (or six)
her- I don't really drink much

long pause

Her- so what are you doing later?
me- (abandoning hope) thought maybe I'd go home, smoke a 40 piece and listen to some Jay Z
Her- well now we're getting somewhere...

20 minutes later we're back at my place naked and high as a giraffes ass, we destroyed my room, she left at 6 a.m., never to return or call.

Funny how things work out.

[Mild Thing]

[Reverend Phil]

Now that's funny....

[vishnu666]