It smells like money

Sunday night I picked up a party of 4 consisting of a twenties-something couple and the parents of one of the couple.  They were coming out of a nice bar near the Capital and going to what I assume was the young couple’s apartment.  The dad sat in the front seat.  It was probably 11pm or so, the lights around town were blinking.

Blinking lights means that usually from one direction in an intersection there’s a blinking yellow and the opposing direction has a blinking red.  This makes the sparse traffic more bearable when I don’t have to wait at a pointless red light with no one else on the road benefiting from the opposing green.  I don’t remember having this sort of traffic control in California, where I grew up.  I’m explaining it for the out-of-state readers.

Anyway, shortly after I pick up this nice party of people someone blows her blinking red without even slowing down.  I have plenty of time to avoid an accident, but I honk my horn righteously.  The other driver waves her arms and points at herself, mouthing apologies and accepting blame.  She does this dramatically enough that my passengers notice.  The mom in the back laughs a bit and we watch the other car pull over and park for a breather as we move along.  Dad has remained stoic and calm.  I’m thinking he’s a responsible older dad who takes things in stride.

Later as we pass the Agriculture and Large Veterinary School buildings for the UW, the son is talking about his friend who lives in an apartment on top of one of the buildings.  I say as a small joke, “How does he pick up chicks with his place smelling like animal poo?”

Without missing a beat, Stoic Dad replies, “With all those animals, what do you need a girl for?”  The joke was made so much better coming from someone I had assumed was too straight-laced for low-brow humor.

All day Sunday was pretty much gogogogogo.  There’s a local software company in town that’s holding a crazy-big training/convention for about 10,000 people.  All the cab companies begged all their employees to come in as extras to cover the insane amount of traffic at the airport.  My booking was better than a busy Saturday shift.

Through all the craziness, there was one nice gem.  Two men who are in town for this convention were in my cab returning to their hotel from a bar downtown.  Albert from Texas says he’s on “work-ation,” like the play on words for “stay-cation.”  He wants credit for coming up with this new word.  Knowing how much the full-time employees at this software company travel for work, I think it might catch on.

Anyway, the next week is a big one for the service industry because of this convention, so I plan on picking up a few extra shifts and riding the money train to pay for my next vacation-vacation.

About yellowandblackmail

I pick people up and take them where they want to go.
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