Crazy Neighbors and Family Reunions

I’m writing from the streets of St. Paul, where I am borrowing somebody’s Internet signal while I wait for passengers. I dropped off the passengers at this party at the Wild Onion on Grand Ave. Instead of waiting out front, where the St. Paul police officers like to give tickets, I traveled around the block to park. Seeing that Grand Ave only has a few parking spaces here and there, I was forced onto the side residential streets.

While sitting here I was approached by a middle-aged woman who came out verbally swinging. First she didn’t like that I was there. She wanted me to move in front of somebody else’s house so they could deal. Then she spewed her complaints so I turned off the headlights that weren’t actually shining anywhere near her house. But it wasn’t enough, I guess-- She wanted me to turn off the vehicle because exhaust was coming into her windows (it is 35 degrees out). I turned it off.

She was still pissed and wanted to know if my passengers had any affiliation with her neighborhood, suggesting that I had no right to use the public streets if the passengers did not. I asked if her insinuation really mattered. She had no answer. She asked for my company name. As the defensive conversation wound down, I explained to her was that it is illegal for me to park on streets like Grand Ave and I have to park on side streets, which is indirectly true because double parking is illegal and I would not find a legit parking space. She left.

*****

Now I’m in Minneapolis. The group wanted to go to the Gay 90s. This isn’t particularly out of the ordinary, because young people are usually into dancing and the place is a good for that. But my passengers are not young. The youngest is 26. Most members of the group are actually related to each other. In fact, the matriarch of the family is here too. She was the driving force behind the Gay 90s push. OK, done. I’ll take them there.

Upon arrival, the passengers rolled down the window and yelled, “Rock out with your cock out.” I didn’t think anything of it until the bouncers, whom I asked if there were any limo specials, explained that they weren’t going to give any deals to a group that yells obscene messages. They pretty much immediately changed their mind and said I should keep the group together if they wanted the limo special of no cover. The initial comment wasn’t the best way to start off a limo-bouncer relationship, but it worked out anyway.

The group of passengers walked up to the door and one of them was smoking a cigarette and had a vodka-orange juice in his hand. The bouncer told him in a snotty, semi-aggressive tone that he couldn’t bring the drink into the bar. Duh. The bouncer jumped the gun, though, because the passenger was outside the cue chains and had intentions to put the low-ball glass back in the limo. He had done this at each of the previous bars. It didn’t matter because the passenger, Chad, wasn’t taking shit from anybody. He flipped out, started yelling racial slurs at the African American bouncer, and had to be held back by his family members. Chad was ready to pounce. Moreover, the bouncers were provoking the situation even more. They yelled racial slurs in return and baited Chad the whole time. For about three minutes it was a very tense atmosphere, with the limo driver standing off to the side watching it all. Finally the family stuffed Chad into the vehicle before punches were thrown and we drove off.

I told the group that we needed to take a time out and regroup. I said I would need to end the ride if anything like that happened again. I will drop them in a well-lit place regardless of how far we are from Burnsville if it had happens again. (Update: the rest of the night was flawless, thank God)

Chad is a rough guy. Some of the other passengers have informed me that Chad is going to jail in a few weeks for restraining order violations and assault charges – 27 months. That’s a long time, a Peace Corps term! Chad told me he would like to rent a limo in the future because he’s having so much fun, but he said it won’t be for a while because of his “short stint” in jail. Yeah, 27 months – short stint.

Tonight is another night revealing a colorful cross-section of society. I look forward to the next adventure.

Bachelor Sex Drive

I drove for a bachelor party on Thursday night. I arrived at the pick up location in St. Paul a little before 10:00 p.m. and waited for signs of life. It was dark, stagnant, and cool. The area was a fairly sketchy area of St. Paul, equipped with a 24-hour bail bonds shop advertised with neon lights sitting across the street. There was a faint smell of marijuana yet nobody in sight for a good 15 minutes. Very few cars went past me on the street. Something was weird.

I went up to the door on Payne Street and rang the doorbell. I discovered a large group of guys drinking and smoking. I found the origin of the marijuana smell. the guys knew I was the limo driver, asked how much they owed me, and started to mobilize. Then they paid me, in cash, for the remaining balance. Several guys joined me outside to scope out the vehicle. They gazed inside, claimed their spots, and loaded up. One guy, Tommy, asked me if he could do anything in the vehicle. No, Tommy, you can't do anything illegal. And if you or anybody pukes, the cleaning fee is $200. Tommy asked me a suggestive question hinting at the permissibility of sexual encounters in the car. I told him that the car is his given the balance is paid and it isn't illegal.

Some readers might stop me here wondering why I said this. Well, I actually don't care if people have sex or whatever in my vehicle. It is truly their space -- and they pay a lot of money for it -- so they can roll up the divider and carry on. My training video a few months ago taught me that a limousine should be considered just like a hotel room -- quiet, peaceful, comfortable, private, and totally customer-centric. Yet I mentioned this was a bachelor party, so the discussion of sex in a limo seems misplaced. Read on.

Tommy and the rest of the crew hopped in the car and we went to downtown Minneapolis. The first stop was Scheik's Palace Royal, the strip joint. The fellas jumped out and wanted me to take their picture. Tommy asked me how much an additional hour would be after the final drop. I informed him that an additional hour would be $110 plus 20% tip and I would need the $110 up front. He understood and went into the strip club.

For the rest of the evening I drove the exceedingly drunk and fairly stoned men around Minneapolis. They went to various bars and towards the end of the night wanted me to pick up some other unknown people along Hennepin Ave. Since Hennepin is a very busy street on which I cannot stop for long periods of time, I ended up circling area, avoiding construction, pedestrians, and other cars, for quite a long time. I was getting really annoyed after doing this a few times. The guys would hop out near the assumed meeting place and nobody would be there. Then they would run around the side of the building to pee on the wall. They would stand outside the vehicle making phone calls. Yet nobody was around to meet these guys. The other taxis and cops would line up behind me and honk or give me threatening looks while I waited for my passengers to return. This happened again and again until finally two ladies showed up and hopped in. Luckily it was nearing 3:00 a.m. and I took the passengers back to St. Paul. I was so sick of circling the block. I was so sick of these passengers.

The limo arrived on Payne Street about 3:00 a.m. Tommy stuck around while the other guys went inside. I didn't realize that Tommy was serious about buying an extra hour. He gave me the $110 while ignoring all the other guys telling him to get inside. Clearly the other guys didn't realize Tommy had grand plans. He gave nondescript answers when they asked what he was doing. Then Tommy and I drove a mile or two to his lady friend's house. Tommy had big plans in store for the evening, even though he was high as a kite and drunk as a skunk. It wasn't warm enough for the lady friend, he said. Then he needed help getting the CD player to work because he had a CD titled "Slow songs" that he wanted in the background. Tommy was ready for everything.

For the next hour I drove around the 494/694 loop while Tommy and his lady friend probably discussed a myriad of topics: religion, politics, gays in the military, etc. The divider was up so I have no way of knowing what was going on. When I dropped them off at 4:15 a.m., it appeared that Tommy had such an intense conversation that his collar was partially popped, his hair was messed up, and he generally looked disheveled. Additionally, the temperature in the back was very warm, indicating the level of passion in the conversation. I was happy for Tommy.

Tommy exited the vehicle and gave me a $22 tip. I shook his hand and drove off. The night was over.

My biggest regret of the evening? Shaking Tommy's hand.

Overheard in a Limo

"She was hungry for dick and mine was available." 

- Tommy, a passenger, explaining the complicated process of finding his most recent lady friend. 

Twenty First Birthday

My run last night went well. The passengers were pretty well behaved, although they were probably the highest energy group I've had. We got a late start because some kid had hockey practice and they wanted to wait. During that 30 minutes, the group blared the music (typical) and manically danced all around. They were clearly inebriated before the evening even began. It wasn't a big deal, but I asked them to refrain from dancing on the counter tops.

The ladies, many of whom were 20 with fake IDs, wore 80s clothing so they could get into the Shout! House for free. I guess it was 80s night or something. They looked like freaks but were having fun.

Ending the night on time and with everybody in good spirits is always a challenge. By 2:30 a.m. people were quite drunk. I couldn't understand one of the guy's incoherent speech. Moreover, I picked up the passengers at the last bar around 2:00 a.m. and across the street I could see some people in a minor brawl. I have no idea what caused it or who was involved, but some of them came over to the bus to go home. Nobody was injured.

Then, after convincing all the passengers to board the bus, which is challenging with every group when everybody is really drunk, some fool walked up to the bus about a block down the street to yell at my passengers (through the window...idiot) and push/punch the bus. I saw him in my mirrors at the last minute. If I had seen him coming, I have dreamed that I would have called the cops, gotten out of the bus, and bitched him out with cops on the way. Sometimes I get annoyed with stupid people (there is a difference between stupid and drunk) and want to verbally slap some sense into them. I ended up driving off. Dream destroyed.

Then the group wanted to go to a gas station. Unfortunately, they had paid through 2:30 a.m. and Nuvi 660, my GPS, said would arrive at the drop off location around that time. But they insisted to get there to purchase something. I caved and brought them to the SA on Grand Ave, which was near the final drop. Ben, the one who rented the bus, felt bad about making the additional stop and going over their time by a few minutes so he paid me $37 as additional tip. He offered the money, I took it. The stop lasted 20 minutes because, again, it is really hard to convince drunk people to get on a bus. It isn't an issue being able to walk physically onto the bus, but rather creating the motivation to make the few short steps towards the stairs of the entrance. They are either smoking, talking, peeing on a bush, or something else that cannot be sped up. It takes forever to mobilize drunk groups. For-ev-a. For-eva.

Updates

I'm currently on vacation but I don't want to forget about this recent story.

Vang Pao and a police escort -- On July 4 I transported the former leader of the Hmong anti-communist army. Retired General Vang Pao spoke to the masses at the Hmong Independence Day celebration at Como Park in St. Paul. I drove the Hummer for the General, two armed guards, and several other people. What made it really sweet was the police escort that led the caravan to the park. I was the first vehicle and about six others followed. The police car switched all the traffic lights to green and we rolled through. I made one wrong turn and was scolded by the policeman. Luckily we could go around the block and recover pretty quickly.

Quincenara

Here are a few pictures from a quincenara for which I drove a few days ago. Everybody was totally decked out when I picked them up. We drove around for three hours, going from St. Paul to the Mall of America, to a gas station to pick up Pepsi, to Harriet Island for about a three minute stop, and back to a party hall for the dinner. The 15-year-olds really annoyed me, especially because they didn't know where they wanted to go. They would tell me it was OK to drive (meaning all the passengers were in the car) but had not told me where they wanted to go. This happened a few times. Anyway, here are the pictures:

Overheard in a Limo

"I would totally have sex with you if you were a prostitute."

- 24-year-old woman to another woman

"If you were a pirate, which shoulder would you put your parrot on?"