Entertainment


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.








There is a solitude in driving a cab. Your co-workers are the citizens of your town, as well as those just in for a short visit…


You cut me off, HARD, as I was crossing Mission Street on MY green. But you were sure to make quick eye contact through your shiny wraparounds first. And that curl on the corner of your smug face… Was that a smirk?







Barnes, “No, sir. I’m a Christian. Marijuana is not allowed. I have a prescription for Oxycontin, which I need to re-up.” Barnes continues, “What with all of my ailments, my REAL problem is where I live. It messes with my head.