Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Just Another Example Of The Negative Ripple Effect-In The Need To Get High.

I picked up a young lady about 30 years old stranded at the local MacDonald's.She was about 3 hours from home,and somehow lost her car while on a drug run for methamphetamine.
Apparently this drug is quite popular in the small community that she lives in.She needed to get to Clayton* about 45 minutes from here.Her poor Mother-and this was Mothers day-would drive down from her home town to meet us there.The young lady didn't have any money-imagine that-so her Mom was going to pay me when we arrived in Clayton.
I hesitated to make the $125.00 run,with-out the money up front.Its something I rarely do,as 9 times out of 10 you will end up getting burned for the fare.
But it was a dead slow shift ,and it was obvious I wasn't going to make much money in town, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt.Hoping it wasn't just another bull shit story and that her Mom would actually be there with the money.
As we headed down the highway,the women started to bitch about the cost of the cab ride.I'm so sick of hearing this from people I almost stopped and kicked her out.But I held my tongue-and tried to explain to her the costs involved in operating a cab.
But I wasn't getting through to her.So I just cut to the chase and told her-as she used my cell phone for long distance calls to track her Mom's progress and smoked my cigarettes-that I wasn't running a fucking charity!
Which part of this being a business to make money do you not understand I asked her? Do you have these conversations with your drug dealer? Do you bitch at them about the cost of the illegal poison they are selling you-are these scum bags not in it to make money?
I went on to to tell her straight up, that I my-self had, at one time, issues of substance abuse in my life.Not the particular poison  she was hooked on-but poison all the same.
The conversation took on a calmer tone after that,and I tried to offer her some sound advice on getting clean and sober.She became more receptive and stopped bitching about the fare ,when she realized I'd been down a similar road in my life.
As in, I no longer needed to scramble all over hells half acre-and take expensive cab rides, due to my irrational need to get high.
As we arrived in Clayton we continued our conversation-and I didn't charge her the $25.00 an hour waiting time usually applied in these situations,as we waited for her Mom to show up.
So in essence I had given her a few breaks-and saved her Mom some money in the process.
When her Mom did arrive she looked weary and rather haggard-and my heart went out to her.
Addicts not only put them-selves through hell-but the people who love them as well.

* Clayton is a Fictitious town.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

You Know You Have Followed The Straight And Narrow To Long When...

I picked up a really nice group of people at a local pub tonight.They were headed out to what I assume was their home in a rural area,about a twenty minute drive from town.
From their accents I gathered they were from somewhere in the U.K.We all laughed and joked,and listened to some good music, on a station requested by the fellow sitting up front with me.
When we reached their destination,this fellow paid me and gave me a very generous $7.00 tip.As he was getting out of the cab,he also handed me something else."This is also for you he said" as he passed me a small round piece of what looked like black gum,the size of a smartie.I at first thought he was being a smart ass-and asked him what the hell is this? (Duh) The guy who had to be in his mid-forties,just smiled pointed to his nose and closed the door.I was about to toss it out the window,when I got a whiff of it.It smelled faintly like pot-this is when the little bulb in my brain went on, and I realized it was a probably a piece of hash.
  Though I have no issue with what folks choose to smoke (I'd much rather have a fare stoned on pot,then pissed drunk on booze any day) I literally hadn't seen a piece of hash since I was in my teen's.
That scene is just not a part of my life style.But I had to laugh to myself as I drove back to town-the guy must have thought I was from mars!
As for the small black gummy stuff-I passed it on to someone who would enjoy it.