Articles by Alex Sack

It’s noon, and a little cold out. But with clear beautiful skies above San Francisco. We’ve got a respite from the torrential rains, before they’re set to start again early in the week.



It’s a new year. And Citizen’s Cab #26 is no more. Her medallion holder jumped ship over to DeSoto. And the mechanics magically transformed Citizen’s Cab #26, my trusty ‘ol Prius, into Citizen’s Cab #1015.



You see, since Jesus retired, Tony’s been pulling double-duty in also writing the schedule. And every year around this time, there’s been a dance I’ve had to do with management.


Thursday Rain, fog and drizzle fill the predawn San Francisco streets… and the mind of one driver rolling Citizen’s Cab #26. I’ve been empty for an hour and a half now, as…


The air is chilly on this early, quiet San Francisco morn. The seasonal cold wet blast which creeps annually down from the north has officially arrived.


A San Francisco cabbie has to make the decision whether to get up butt ass early to gamble on some prodigal son heading to the airport trying to make it home to L.A. in time for the festivities, or sleep in.


Detour Passengers, I’m down with the flu, folks. And there’s been a cold rain and grey clouds hovering over San Francisco in recent days – both figuratively and literally. So, your driver…


Eh, if I’m gonna be up, I might as well work. Despite its 4:15 medallion, I suspect my beautiful Prius, Citizen’s Cab #26, will be at the lot waiting idle and lonely for its driver. Me.


Thursday Noon: I’m rolling west up Market, empty, in Citizen’s Cab #26, when, “DING!” My iPhone chimes with an IM… Hey! It’s Christian! Note: Best friend, Spermula band mate, and fellow (albeit,…


Some have wondered what led a man like me into life as a hack. Well, here’s something I wrote years ago from the Hell of a cubicle, before turning towards life on the streets.


It’s 3:15am, on any given weekday. I’m laid out on the couch in my living room after one too many beers last night. (If one could say it is even “today.”)


It’s Saturday, my day off from ‘ol Citizen’s Cab. And the spawn are off busy with their mom and Uncle – who’s visiting from Texas. So, alone, I biked over to the annual Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival set so sublime amidst San Francisco’s crown jewel, Golden Gate Park.


It’s an old black gentleman, with clean, pressed blue jeans, a pressed khaki jacket, and a stiff, clean Army Vet baseball cap. He’s waving his cane slow and casual, as standing beside a pressed reusable plastic bag, and a nice tan leather shoulder bag.


I grab my girl’s key and 3:45 medallion from the pegboard myself – Prius #26, as Tony is busy by the register sliding another key and medallion under the bullet-proof glass, through the metal tray, to some newbie driver who’s standing outside the window.


Well, Alex has been a good boy. He’s been consistently rolling into the Citizen’s Cab lot around 4:15am, and bringing it back just before 26’s 3:45pm pumpkin time. And it seems the shoe fits. Alex is making a living.


Rolling up Fillmore into well off Pac Heights, I’m stopped at a red at California. And with my little eye, I spy out of the corner of it, a twenty-something blonde woman in blue scrubs kitty-corner from me running towards the intersection, and desperately waving to flag.



3:15am: “BbbBllllOOOOooPPp… BbbBllllOOOOooPPp… BbbBlllOOOooPPp…” My generic iPhone alarm goes off, waking me for the 3:45 medallion I am now rocking, and my “day” shift in Citizen’s Cab 26. This means that I…


Friends and readers, I am happy to report to you this week that it is a bea-U-tiful, if not foggy, time in ‘ol SaN fRanCiscO! Come! And tour The Golden City with…


I am out hacking the streets of San Francisco early, again. Something woke me up. A mental vortex emanating from my previous cab shift.



Already, I have left the house five minutes late. And this is NOT trivial, folks. This has SERIOUS implications with respect to the numbers of Audis and BMWs that I will be contending with in the battle for Gough!


Tuesday 4:00am: “Bloooop… Bloooop… Bloooop… Bloooop…” My generic iPhone Harp alarm-tone eases me into the day. (Well, sorta.) You see, I set my alarm forty-five minutes early this morning, on account of…