Articles by Alex Sack

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…


It’s 5:45 in the a.m. and I’m rolling the Castro of San Francisco, in Citizen’s Cab 2976, my eyes peeled for flags the likes of late night stragglers, and early morning Mexicans headed across town to their dish washing jobs.


Okay… I lied about last week’s “quitting cab driving” assertion. (Sue me.) It’s just that I can’t seem to shake this martyrdom thing. Besides, surely SOMEONE out there needs a jump star……


I’ve been having some weird sepia-tone dreams this past week. They’ve all involved escaping from one or some other long, drawn-out, violent and bloody urban drama. I don’t know if it’s the…


It’s Wednesday, my day off. But, I still have some taxi business to take care of. You see, a couple weeks ago I made a doctor’s appointment with California Pacific Medical Center;…


Apparently, a politically-active firecracker we know named Tyler (works for Luxor Cab) was involved in a high speed chase around Union Square. It was with some rich kids come in from the ‘burbs of Marin


Things are chill, at present. It’s Father’s Day. The TV is off. And the boy is away at Boy Scout camp. I’m just laying around, horizontal on the couch, staring at a…


I have a theory, about why San Francisco is so… unhinged. When I lived back east, you would commonly come across a guy on the streets of the Lower East Side wearing…


Tuesday 5:15am: Crooks, the disgraced ex-cab driver who lost his A-card after getting busted committing Paratransit fraud by keeping passenger’s cards and later swiping fake rides – who has since been driving…


I’ve been binge watching the Discovery Channel’s Naked and Afraid lately, on Sundays. It’s a reality show about two strangers, a man and a woman, meeting for the first time naked on some godforsaken snake and insect-infested corner of the earth


For those of you who have expressed concern, or worry, as to my mental state over my last few reports from the road, I beg to assure you that I feel I am coming back from the brink. Backing out of a dead end alley, you might say… Of late,


I’m out in the lot and just starting to prep and sanitize ‘ol 137. I go to log-in to the tablet and come to note that it’s stuck on some half glowing black screen, with a single line of gibberish yellow lettering displayed in the lower left corner.


I’m rolling the Fillmore strip up in well-to-do Pac Heights. And I cruise by the usual suspects; cops, affluent retirees – with their Golden Retrievers, and mansion contractors


I live across the street from the West Side projects of San Francisco, in an old three flat Victorian. You can still see remnants of the gas flame chandelier in the living room ceiling, from the turn of the century.


The early morning has played out dead. Not one ride. And the worry about the coffee stain has been supplanted with worry over my career.