I had a rough week last week. I had to bust my ass and pick up a couple days’ shifts due to surprises… My roommate decided to tell me (when I asked, and not before) that he would stay until june 1 and pitch in for rent. Which was alright, that meant I could go out one night and relax a little… And then I came home to his stuff packed and he was leaving two days after. This was the cause of my scrambling… It was totally within his rights to leave, since it was agreed that he would, but I would have liked a little more warning or less misleading. Rent was due within a day or two of this happening.

So! Picked up monday and tuesday shifts, figured out internet is also due, so picked up extra hours on days I was already scheduled for… I worked somewhere between 56-60 hours last week. The work wasn’t terribly stressful except for a few key moments.

Somewhere in the middle of the week, some dude called the office to tell my manager that I had hit his car. The manager called me and asked what happened, and I told him. I had a passenger and we were on our way- very leisurely- to the airport, and said dude wouldn’t let me merge when the road went from 2 lanes to 1. Without other options and with my signal on for nearly 2 blocks, I force my way in (it’s better than going off the road). My passenger and I chuckle about it all the way to the airport, astonished this guy wouldn’t let us in. After the road went back to two lanes, he made a point to cut in front of me and slam on his breaks as well. I got a big tip from the passenger for being a good sport about the whole deal though, and not getting angry.

This dude had called the office and said “I won’t call the police, but I just wanted you to know your driver hit my car”… which basically screams “I’m lying” because if your car is damaged you want the responsible party to pay for it, right? However, it is still stressful for your boss to call you and tell you this like you’re in some kind of trouble. “Why didn’t you just get behind him?” he asked. I didn’t have a good answer, but fuck! we were going 30 mph! I would have had to STOP to get behind him, if he even would LET me do THAT. grumble!

To end my 6-day marathon, I put a woman in jail. The ride started alright, I guess. I picked her up from the Shamrock, a gay bar right near the capitol building, known for its friendly and courteous patrons. I was taking her home to a bad part of town, though, and a friend that was handing her into the cab mouthed “THANK YOU!” to me… bad sign. Why is this woman going home early and her friends are grateful that she’s leaving?

A mile into the 3 mile ride she is falling asleep, taking off her shoes, and spilling the contents of her purse. I say “Honey you can’t fall asleep, I need you to stay awake.” This works twice, but then she’s persistent about laying down and closing her eyes. I repeat myself a third time, and that’s when things get weird. “Shut up and drive the damn car! Shut up! Get me home!”

“I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to get out of my cab.” She refuses, and repeats some obscenities. Remembering what my mom used to say, “Get to someplace well lit and public,” I make my way to the nearest open convenience store. “Get out of my car or I will call the police.”

“You go and CALL the police!”
Okay.

I call my dispatcher and request some police. Within the time it takes the police to get there she threatens to punch me in the back of the head several times, tells me we’re in Chicago, tells me to go home, and blathers some other delusions. The dispatcher had sent another Union cab to me to make sure I wasn’t in any serious danger, which was nice. I also asked some bystander to stick around until the police got there, just because I was nervous. The lady was sitting directly behind me and held up her purse several times like she wanted to take something out of it, but that could just be my paranoia.  By this point I was convinced that she was having a bad reaction from the alcohol and something else that was in her system, making her confused and disoriented, and I was NOT comfortable with her sitting directly behind me in this state.

Ok so big barrel chested, bald, black police officer makes his way to my window, and makes sure I’m the one who called him. “Oh you better watch out for him girl, them guys are trouble,” says lady behind me. … HE IS HERE FOR YOU LADY. He asks her to step out, she does, then she moves to get her purse off the back seat. Then grabs the bun of hair I have tied up and rips my head backwards with it… I let out a blood curdling scream that even *I* was impressed with. It didn’t really hurt when she did it, but startled me BAD… especially after all that pent up suspense on what was going to happen.

“Oh, that was stupid,” says the cop. YES HE REALLY SAID THAT! IT WAS AWESOME! He handcuffs her and throws her in the back of the police car. He comes around to me, and gets the story on why we called them, and then he says to me “I’m going to ask you some ridiculous questions and I need you to answer them, ok?” I nod, and he goes on: “Did you give her permission to pull your hair?” I actually laughed here, and said no, I did not. “Did it hurt?” I tell him honestly it didn’t, but that it REALLY surprised me. “Did it disturb you?” FUCK YES it did! He asked if I would like to press charges, and I say YES I DO.

It’s not as earth shattering as it could have been, I guess. I mean she could have pulled a knife or gun on me, and then I would have been TOTALLY FREAKED, but this makes for a good story. It did shake me up enough that I went home early, missing the last good bar rush until summer ends. I did find something interesting about myself in this whole mess, though. This woman was about to really punch me, and I had turned to look back at her to answer her confusing statement about being in Chicago. I made some confused puppy eyes at her and she kinda settled back a little. If I have enough backbone, yes I can manipulate people. Even in the most extreme circumstances. I SHALL USE THESE POWERS ONLY FOR GOOD!