Jolly taxi

    JOLLY TAXI



     “JOLLY TAXI “- that's how my friends call me. How I became I cabbie in Washington D.C., the nation's capital, - God only knows! I will tell you one thing - it wasn't as easy as one might think. I had to go to school for that and pass quite a tricky exam. Not easy at all.
    But it was worth it. At the time I worked at the hotel, a famous one, I should add, - “The Madison “, it's on 15-th Street, six blocks from the White House. Gorbachev at his first visit to Washington stayed there. And quite a number of other celebrities stayed there as well.
    I wasn't there when Gorby came. In fact I was still at school in the Soviet Union when perestroika started. I spoke with Gorby many years later - he was no longer the first president of all-mighty Soviet Union. I was no longer a student in a Soviet school. It was in Richmond, the capital of Virginia. I, of course, was working at a hotel – the 5-diamond “Jefferson“, a wonderful place, you should visit it one day!
I was a transportation supervisor there - managing the traffic at the entrance, driving limo, valet-parking cars and greeting guests as well. At first I spoke with Gorby's daughter Irina, who came out by herself to look at our hotel fountain with statues of alligators in it - she was very nice and unpretentious at all. She even told me: " Our mama is ill right now and couldn't go with us.” She was talking about Raisa Gorbacheva, obviously. It seemed a kind of intimate to me that she shared this with me. She was sweet. Sweet and sad at the same time. So I asked if I can take an autograph of her father, he was coming out of the hotel surrounded by the bunch of journalists. "Daddy, this guy is one of ours"-she yelled to Michail Gorbachev. "Only in Russia we have ours and not-ours!"-replied Gorby, and went on talking about the political situation in Russia, putting down his autograph on the postcard I gave him. I started to say how greatful we all were for all the changes in the country...But he kept on talking and talking like he was giving a lecture, and journalists were taking pictures of me next to him, listening to his demagoguery respectfully. It was 1995.Gorby had two body -guards with him, they both I was sure were ex-KGB, they looked at me suspiciously. But I didn't care much - I was young and free!
     But going back to my work at “The Madison“… I worked as a bellman and a doorman there and had a chance to see some famous people - politicians, actors, sportsmen…
     I was quite impressed with Steven Seagal coming through the lobby to meet Dalai-Lama. Seagal gave me two autographs. In real life he looked exactly like in the movies - huge and powerful! You could feel the aura of energy coming from him, you could feel his presence. I wouldn't want to mess with that guy!
Gigantic Evander Holyfield in a black leather raincoat came through the lobby to some reception. His ear was in good shape then - it was not long before Mike Tyson had a taste of it at the ring…
     Benjamin Natanyahu was working out in the gym every morning, surrounded by a bunch of bodyguards. You gotta be in good shape running a country at constant warfare with its neighbors!
      John Kennedy with his at the time secret fiancee Caroline Bessett checked in the room on the 11-floor.I was bringing their bags up to the room riding in the elevator with them. But I did not know who he was - only found out later. "Have you stayed with as before?"-I asked him, he looked at me with a surprised look at his face. His fiancee smiled. Kennedy gave me twenty bucks, not bad at all. Next time I saw them both on TV on their wedding day, and then on the day of the tragic air accident. Oh well, you never know where it's gonna get you...
               
                TAXI BEGINNING

     Working at the hotel was all right, except the general manager was the devil from hell. He could yell at his stuff in front of the guests, he yelled with no reason either. His name was Jesse M., he used to be a janitor or something but the rumor was that once upon a time the owner of the hotel, old grunchy Mr. Coyne, did some illegal hunting and was caught, and put the blame on his servant Musgrove. Anyway, everybody was scared of him - he did not stand any objections and fired people on spot. I've had some arguments with him myself but managed to explain situations without humiliating myself - the guy respected some degree of boldness too. But it all was uncomfortable anyway.         From time to time I was covering doors - opening them, greeting guests  and helping with their bags. Most of the guests were coming by taxi, I saw them paying to the drivers and I was wondering how much of those money drivers were to keep for themselves. I started talking to the drivers on the cab-stand and found out that in DC taxi business is an independent thing, most of them owned those cars and payed only insurance. Some of them rented. So I started cautiously asking them how much they were making. Once I asked one guy who was sitting in his cab, smoking and listening to the music.
     "Nice to be free and have no bosses!"-I thought and asked him about his income. "Two hundred"- he said. I looked at him with disbelief. He noticed that, smiled and showed me cash. That was the turning point for me. At the hotel I could make 50-80 dollars in tips, plus around 140 in weekly paycheck. In taxi it could be 200 and, what's important, no bosses! Oh, do I love freedom! So I found out I had to go to taxi-school, take exams and then fulfill my ambitions driving around the city and making money! I signed for taxi-school at the University of District of Columbia. I was the only white guy in the whole class, I was minority there, but not a repressed one.
     The exams were tricky - I passed it only on the second attempt, lots of people failed. So I was on seventh heaven after getting my license. I gave two weeks notice to the hotel management, wrote I nice letter to them saying that it was pleasure to work there but new challenges and opportunities were awaiting me. Now the time finally came to rent a car and hit the road!
                * * *
     So I went to that company District Cab Association on Benning Road in rough north-eastern neighborhood in Washington DC and asked to rent a cab. They checked on my license, or how they call it "face", right on spot - everything of course was in good standing, and here I am - right next to my new rental car - District 41! My first taxi cab ever - yaahooo! It was a Ford Crown Victoria - as I found out later the best for maneuverability on hassling city streets. Oh, do I love Crown Vic! Most of them are used police cars, repainted as taxis. Well, they break down too, of course - especially when you drive 12 or 14 hours a day, but still they last long and give a lot of pleasure for a driver like myself.
     I decided not to overdo it my first day but instead to drive home so to get used to my baby, relax at home, have a couple of shots and then, may be, to drive around town for a while. I was afraid that when they tell me where to go I would not now and embarrass myself, and make the passengers mad... I was afraid of my first customer! Besides, I still did not believe you can make enough money driving a cab, so my place as a bellman at the Madison was still secured. If you can make at least around a hundred a day - why none of the white folks go and try it out? I was one and only white guy at taxi school, and you could count them by fingers in Washington DC! I haven't seen a single one yet except my own reflection in the rear-view mirror. Mister Williams - a nice and intelligent black gentleman who taught the class also said that I would be a minority and rarity on the streets of Washington DC.
 
                * * *

     So here I am - approaching Washington DC on 14-th street bridge, a divider between DC and the state of Virginia. I lived in Alexandria, down on Duke Street off 395 south - only 20 minutes from downtown DC, not bad at all!
Once you pass the 14-th Street bridge you see Mint on the left, Department of Agriculture on the right - those are massive government buildings, a kind of Soviet or what I call Stalinist architectural style. 14-th Street leads you through The Mall where you can see the Capitol Building on the right and Washington Monument on the left, and in a few more blocks you cross Pennsylvania Avenue right between Willard Intercontinental and JW Marriott hotels. Next door to the White House, although you don't see the White House from that point - it's hidden in the greens of trees and bushes. You wanna see the White House? Oh, make a left on Penn go strait - it turnes into E street and you will be passing the fence through which here you can see it – Pennsylvania Avenue, 1600.
     That was one of the questions on the exam - "what is the address of the president's residence?”   Well, that was 1998 - you still could go on “E” street, then times were gradually changing and for security reasons “E” street was blocked off with concrete blocks and bunch of Park Police around - they are responsible for the security of the White House, you see. So if you decide to see that famous view of the White House through the fence, park your car somewhere and walk that way. Watch out for the signs - the cars are being towed in a snap, you'll be better off parking in a garage.
     Well, I saw the White House before, besides - I was on a mission to pick up my first customer! And sure enough here he was - a guy with a rolling suitcase, standing in front of an office building raising his hand. Should I just pass him? Should I just drive around town without passengers, to better learn the streets? Be brave, I told myself, what do you have to lose? There were no cabs around anyway, so I pushed down on my brakes...
                * * *
     That guy, my first customer, was going to Key Bridge Marriott. I went left on Pennsylvania, right on 15-th, trying to remember which streets are one-way and where I should turn.
"This is my first day, sir. I am sorry..."-I started to apologize.
"You don't have to be sorry! It is first day for everything in this life,"- he said. What a friendly fellow! I hope they all will be like that. I was holding the steering wheel tightly - I haven't got used to it, you see, let alone driving with a passenger - a real one and my first one too!
     Going up 15-th street I passed by my "MADISON" and hit "M"street - I knew that eventually it will lead me to Key Bridge and somewhere there should be that hotel. So the traffic through Georgetown was not so bad, and finally we got onto Key Bridge, and I saw the hotel - thank God!
"Sir, you are my very first customer, I think you must have a free ride..."
"Oh no, you deserve your money. I just need a receipt and if I could make a suggestion - it is easier from that point to take Constitution Avenue, through Roosevelt Bridge, then onto 66 and up the hill on the first exit - that would lead you straight to the hotel. It will be easier for you next time. Well, good luck to you –you’ll learn fast."
     So he knew where we were going but gave me a chance to acquire my own experience! Really nice first customer! The fare was 9.85 - and he gave me 14 $! Wow! We'll see what will come next, I just need to see how much I really can make, and if it will be enough, I was thinking 50-60 $ a day is enough, the hell with the "MADISON" and it's son-of-a-bitch general manager! But it still was too early to say.
     Well, in a few hours I had 70 bucks in my pocket, went home happy and the very next morning wrote a 2-weeks notice at the "MADISON" mentioning that it had been a pleasure to work for such a great hotel with such wonderful and considerate managers, but new challenges in life were awaiting for me. I left in good standing - who knows, may be it won't work out and I'll have to ask them to take me back... Never burn the bridges you pass-they might still be useful in the future! But that day I stepped onto a new path in my life. I became a real DC cabbie -  inexperienced, unsure, uptight but yet determined!
                * * *
     In a few weeks I was cruising around DC with indescribable pleasure - I got to drive around the city and got paid for it too! "Just don't pick up young black guys!"- my friends-cabbies, themselves being black, taught me. Lots of cabbies were robbed or, worse, murdered in run-down parts of town - like South-East and North-East. Well, lots of times I simply couldn’t pass by those guys - here they are, standing in the rain, with cabs passing by. Hey, let me give him a ride - may be the devil isn't as terrible as he is painted! So I took my chances and I found out that it wasn't that bad, really. Well, black folks don't like to tip much - so what? Neither do Europeans. The ride itself is usually not good in DC the longer you go - the less you get paid, well I could live with that! Somehow they got to get home! Many were quite grateful:
"Thanx for stopping, sir!" Sure, sure, why not?
    One black kid was so happy I picked him up that all the way to King’s street, Alexandria, he called me “God’s messenger”, and he was serious about it too. Oh, I wish I was the one! I just think that all folks have a right to get where they need to get, I don’t discriminate, you see. Its not about the color – people are people, humans are humans, color does not matter to me.
     Well, if in the middle of the night I saw some character I had a bad feeling about I too could pass by. I screen them all first - whites or blacks, doesn't matter. You learn to almost 100 % have a feeling which part of town they were going - by dress, appearance, manners. All based on pure cabbie’s intuition. Works just fine most of the times. Not always, of course.
                BLACK AND WHITE TRICKSTERS
     Well, one guy, who happened to be black,  fooled me just fine: he had a METRO uniform on, told me to take him to South-East to pick something up and, then, back to downtown DC – then he went as if to the house but never came back. He squeezed in-between the houses and disappeared - well, I'm glad he didn't rob me!
     Similar story happened to the other black guy - I picked him up in the middle of Georgetown on M and Wisconsin on Friday night, gave a ride to 6-th street South-East. All the way we talked like friends, he mentioned a few times that lived in a rough hood - shootings, killings, muggings...Well, on the intersection he just got out of the cab, and walked right into the projects. I yelled to him, he didn't wanna stop, and I didn’t want to follow him either. I thought for a moment to run him over - but then wise question came into my mind-WAS IT WORTH IT?
Of course, not! So I happily drove away. You should get the best out of the worst situations - may be he was planning to rob me but changed his mind? So I got lucky! This 7.60 $-boy, I could live without them! Plus it was Friday night - and I made much more in a snap!
                ***
         So  it is a big problem for a black person to catch a cab in DC. The reasons for it are both commercial and human. Most of the blacks live far-away from zone one in shady hoods, so even from money stand-point it is just not worth it to go all the way to the South-East and not even get a tip. Black folks don't tip as a rule. With exceptions, of course. When they give you something extra it comes as a miracle.
     Sometimes you don't get anything at all - they just leave. It happened a few times to me. Once, I took two black lads to College Park, Maryland. They tricked me and, and the next day wrote a letter to their University newspaper describing my mishap. The name for the letter was: "Thank You” FROM A CABBIE”. Here is what I wrote:
“I am a cab-driver in Washington DC and on Wednesday night 4-27, or better to say - Thursday morning at 2.30 AM I gave a ride from Club 1223 in DC to two tall young black fellows. They were going to College park and looked like decent lads. One wore a sports-hat, another had some white T-shirt on. They did not look like robbers to me whatsoever, and in fact they were not. They were just runners.
     We agreed on a fare of 30 $. And I did not want to show my distrust and ask for the fare upfront - I like to show people my respect .They were silent all the way, one asked to be dropped at 7-11 store, asking the other if he’d “got it this time“. So I am not sure if that guy was aware of his friend’s plan to screw up a cabbie. Well, I took the other one to Calvert Hall. We went through security check-point on the way so I felt safe and sound. My silent passenger even said “Privet” after finding out that I was from Russia. That seemed like a good sign… Not so!
“I need to go to my room and get you the money”,-the white-T-shirt guy said.
“Well, leave me something - ID, or phone.”
“I don’t have my wallet on me. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes!”
I didn’t want to stop the guy - after all we were on the campus grounds, where could he go? Plus, I still believe in human decency…Trust but verify! Well, I didn’t - I waited for half-an-hour and the guy never showed up. I even went to the doors of Calvert Hall but it was useless. Finally, I went back to my cab and left. On the way I stopped by the Campus police car, and told the officer my story - not to bring up the case, but just to share it with somebody.
“It happens all the time!” - the policeman said.
“Hey, I’m just glad the guy didn’t rob me!” - I said.
And that’s the best part of it. That I lost my time and 30 dollars is not the worst that could happen to me. On the way back to DC I was smiling and in good spirits - although my opinion of University of Maryland students shifted a little bit. Well, not about all of them - just about this particular guy. OK, fellow! - keep your money, let this case just be on your own conscience. And one more thing - Thank You for not robbing me!”
               
                *  * *

     One old-fashionly dressed black gentleman flagged me by the Willard Hotel at 3 AM on Friday night. He was going all the way to Springfield. He said that his car broke down, and that his brother couldn’t make it to pick him up, and that his sister was fighting with her boy-friend and couldn’t come either, and his other brother lived somewhere in South Carolina… Anyway I didn’t listen to all this much , until he said that he didn’t have any money on him. We were close to Springfield already, on the highway - 395 South. I took the exit and dropped him off at the gas-station. I am sure that was closer to his place than DC. I wasn’t mad at him, I was mad at myself - I lost about an hour on a Friday night, but learned my lesson. Well, not quite. Every fare is a new lesson - good or bad, and you never know what kind of “professor” will lecture you next time. That is what makes this job interesting!
               
                ***

     No, that skip-the-fare game does not just depend on the skin color – it’s all about the cultural upbringing, I guess. Never a student from American University, or Georgetown, or GW University tried to skip paying the fare – they pay and they tip, but for some reason I had a few incidents with the Catholic University students…
Once I took the whole group of young white fellows from downtown DC to one of the bars next to Catholic University. Those assholes all left the cab at the same time and rushed into the bar. There was only one problem – nobody paid the fare. So I had to get into that bar packed with drunk youngsters and look for my passengers. People were dancing and screaming all around, but I finally recognized one of the guys and went straight up to him. Oh, was I mad and aggressive!
“Hey, you didn’t pay the fare!”-I yelled.
“What? What fare?” –he tried to go away but I grabbed his hand.
“Stay right here!”-I yelled. By this time his friends approached and started to surround me. The bouncer came too.
“What’s going on?”-he asked, so I explained. I guess the bouncer showed up in the right moment, otherwise there probably would be a fight. Anyway, eventually they came up with all the money they owed –about twenty bucks, and the bouncer saw me off all the way to the exit.
               

                ***

     On another occasion, I took a white guy straight into the Catholic University Campus area, right next to the Cathedral...All of a sudden he opened the door and started running through the lawn on the way to their dormitories. He fell down once, got up and went on with his escape. I didn’t run after him just watched in amusement. I wonder if campus security saw that long run… Probably not, otherwise they would at least try to find out what was going on.
               
                ***

     Then in a few weeks the similar story happened. I took that drunk white student from an Irish bar and he was talkative all the way, although his questions were all stupid and answers were clueless, but I thought he was just too drunk. He was sitting next to me, and I locked the doors since the Catholic University is surrounded by quite a rough part of town and you never know who can jump into your cab. I wasn’t worried about my passenger triyng to escape at all. Neither had I any suspicion when he rolled down the window – the weather was chilly, but I thought that may be it was too hot for him… Oh yeah, too hot! The moment we stopped he jumped right through the window, can you believe it? He fell, then got up, then rushed around the corner. I really was taken by surprise. I got out of the car, went around the corner thinking he would be hiding somewhere in the near-by bushes. He probably was. But I couldn’t find him, so I got screwed again. And again I wasn’t too unhappy-I just realized how quickly bad things jump on you. You don’t even understand what’s going on and it happens in a second. What if someone decided to rob me, or worse? In DC cabs we don’t have partitions so anybody can easily just hit the driver on the head. So when they escape I consider myself lucky.
                ***
     Once a drunk yuppie white girl was going from Dupont circle to Crystal City. She was wasted so I I didn't pay any attention when she was mumbling some mumbo-jumbo, touching my hair and suggesting we go to her place. Eventually she passed out but I woke her up right by the entrance to her apartment complex in Crystal City. The problem was she didn't have any money on her, so I suggested to go to the ATM since I saw Bank of America right around the corner.                She was saying some stupid drunk shit like “I am home...Lets go with me...Who are you?...Where's my girl-friend....” but eventually I pulled to the ATM and she went to the mashine. She did try to pull money a few times, but probably forgot her pin number and all of a sudden went across the rushed across the street to her apartments.           “Where are you going?”- I yelled but she didn't pay attention, so I was driving next to her and parked right by the entrance. It was back entrance too so there were no people there, some were watching us out of their windows though. I went out of my cab and stood by the door – I knew I could't touch her neither I intented to, but I just felt pissed and deceived so I simply was standing there blocking her passage. I was calling cops at the same time. Look, I hate to involve police in the situation like that but to let her go like that was above my abilities too – she was simpy disrespecting me and thus all the cab drivers in my name!                I tried to persuade her to go back to the ATM and try it again but she started pushing and hitting me. I never pushed back but stood there like a solid castle. Thankfully police showed up – they show up quickly in Arlington, and we were just a few streets from the Pentagon. “Do you want to press charges ?” they asked me. I said “No, I just want her to pay the fare of about 15 dollars and to forget about it”. So they asked if she had money she said she had it in her apartment, the chance was given to her right there! So they went inside but came out right away. “Are you sure you don't want to press charges” -asked one huge Marine-type cop.”You work hard for living” “Listen”,-I said.” I don't wanna spoil her life, I don't need money from her any more, if you can just let her go and I will happily forget about the whole ordeal!” “We can't let her go – she is publicly drunk and doesn't behave properly. She started grabbing and touching me – and you don't do that with the police-officer...” Boy, I didn't expect that coming, the girl would  have some kind of record and she was right by her door, I felt guilty. So I started begging officers to let her go but they simply put handcuffs and arrested her. I felt really bad! The best I could do was not to press charges...               

                ***
     In a similar incident a slightly drunk girl went to get cash for her fare  at 7-11. I was sitting  by the entrance waiting her to come out, it was taking a long time so I started wondering. Then I saw her coming out of the service door and straight to the entrance of her house. I ran there and blocked her way. Called the cops too since she tried toi get through and then rushed from me back to the street. She ran around the corner, so I followed her. I saw a couple of police cars  block away and started waving at them, they didn't see me, so I ran to the middle of the street ,waving, and yelling and then they saw me and rushed towards us with the sirens. That girl was about to go around the corner and disappear but cops pulled up right next to her and jumped out like air-bourne!
     They tried to see if she had money – she didn't. “Ok, we are going to arrest her, but you need to press charges”-a police-woman told me. She also spoke a few words of Russian so we kind of joked about prison and taxi escapees...
No, I didn't want that girl to get arrested so I asked them to let her go and they did. It's not about the money it's about the principles! But I don't want to ruin somebody's life over a few bucks and drunk stupidity!
***

                ***
        One black lad took me all the way next to Andrews Air Force base, the fare was about 30 dollars. He seemed sweet and intelligent all the way, ha said he was a bartender at the Georgetown Harbour, that's where I picked him up and would never expect a trick from a guy like that. So he had  six dollars. “ I don't carry much cash on me – I don't wanna be robbed” - he said and went to his house. Never cane back. I wasn't sure which house exactly did he go or may be he went through the alley – it was 3 AM and very dark. After 20 minutes of waiting I cursed my own stupidity again and was on the way back to DC.

                ***
     Can’t forget that young black dude with a pipe in his hand - when I picked him up he said that he was walking for an hour and none of the cabs stopped for him. He was going all the way to Wheaton, Maryland. It’s a long ride but why not help a poor guy in the middle of the night, I thought. Then he started asking weird questions like whether I was a Christian, had a family, what was my name, my family members names and strange crap like that. He was holding that long pipe in his hand – now I think there was some sharp object in it.
“You look strong. Nobody would mess with you”,-he sounded like talking from the crypt. So I had a bad feeling already. But you know something is wrong when they start telling you where to go:
“Make this right, make this left, left again…” -as if they are looking for a better place to do some shit to you. So when we finally stopped and the guy momentarily jumped out of the cab and ran away in between the houses all I did was sighed with a relief. He was sitting behind me all the way and calculating whether to rob me, probably he changed his mind at the very last moment, but I am almost sure that the pipe was not just the pipe but his weapon.
  I don’t have any weapon, it wouldn’t help anyway. Imagine you kill or wound somebody – the prosecution will do their best to make you guilty, so the best thing is just to give the money away. Too bad that it does not help all the time and many of DC cab drivers got killed even after giving their money to those animals …
                ***
     Another trick of skip-the-fare game is to tell the driver that you are going to get the money from the house and never come back. That trick mostly is used by white dudes and not youngsters only – once I got screwed by an older white trash guy, who even called his friend and told him to bring the money outside. He was just pretending to call, of course, but how would I know? So he went to the alley to meet his friend with cash and never came back.
     I never asked to leave ID or phone with me while they go to get the money, but after a few hard lessons now I do, and in this case they don’t have any other choice but to come back. That is unless they are good sprinters!




                * * *
     A lot of cab drivers look at black passengers with suspicion but I met lots of nice people of all races, I try to be color-blind when I pick them up.
Can’t forget that black kid I picked up from 18-th and M Street on a Saturday night. See, 18-th and M is the place to be on a Saturday night. Bunch of clubs are concentrated on that corner. Bunch of group fights are happening in front of those bars. I saw quite a few…Bunch of people want to get home after the 2.30 last call and up till 5 in the morning when the last underground club getting closed. Cabs are lined up on 18-th Street ready to roll! Well, I was fifth in line. And I saw that decent-looking young black guy going along the cab line and talking to cabbies. It happens quite a lot when folks go along cab line trying to make a deal. Although there are set prices to go in DC - that is according to the zone-fares, and interstate rates are determined by the mileage, on a weekend-night we cabbies become more greedy than usual, and always overcharge people going out of DC. That guy was not even asking about the price. He wanted to get respect. When he walked away from the cab in front of me I already knew he was all right. See, we cabbies are great psychologists. I can almost for sure say in which direction the prospective passenger will be heading before even he can open his mouth. Well, the guy came up to me, I rolled down the window. The doors were remaining locked, by the way. We try to keep them locked all the time so undesirables would not jump in - it is so hard to kick them out of the cab after that! So that lad came up to my window and asked with a smile:
“Can you take me HOME?”
 He stressed that HOME part. I unlocked the doors.
“Where is home though?”-I asked when he was getting into the cab.
“Wherever it is, can you take there?”
“Well, if it’s in New York City, may be not..”
“Yeah, even for a thousand dollars? If I needed to get to New York you wouldn’t take for a thousand dollars? With a five hundred dollar tip?”
I knew he wasn’t going to New York. I knew he wasn’t going all the  way to South-East either. Probably, he was going to some nice hotel right here in downtown DC.
“Take me to Courthouse, please.”
There we go! Courthouse in Arlington, Virginia, is where all the yuppies and yuppies-to-be live.
“What was wrong with that guy?”-I asked pointing at the cab in front of me, pulling away from the line.
“He was just a dumb ass, that’s it. Look, I appreciate you opening the doors without asking me first where I go. I need to get home and I have money - what else does one need? As a matter of fact, here it is.”
He threw a 20-dollar bill on the front passenger seat. The ride would not be more than 12 bucks…
“And here is more for you…”
He put another 20 on the seat.
“Thank you much, sir.”
“Look, I don’t like to be asked where I go before I get in. They should take me wherever. I have enough money. Guess, how much I make a year?”
“I can’t guess that, just like I can’t guess where you go without asking you.”
“No, but just guess, how much money do I make a year?”
“Probably, a lot more than me, that’s for sure. Are you a lawyer?”
“I’m a Wall-Street analyst. But my point is that I do appreciate you doing what you did. And actually I feel for you guys too - I understand that you can always get robbed or killed in some shady hood…”
“Well, you see, we can tell what kind of person we’re picking up. I personally wouldn’t be surprised if you were going to the Mayflower Hotel just one block from there…”
I flattered, but that guy deserved flattering.
“It’s not only about the money. It’s about humanity, too. Would Jesus asked me where I go if he was driving this cab?”
“Jesus would take you for free.”
We both smiled.
“That’s true.”
We were approaching Courthouse.
“I ask you to do for me just one more favor…”
He paused. I waited with interest. What else can it be? He overpaid the fare about four times, we had quite interesting conversation.
Was he gay, may be? Was he about to make me an indecent proposal ? Big bucks for touching his dick? I don’t go for that, you know.
Well, the lad not only did not dissapoint me, but surprised even more.
“Here is another 20. Can you split it in fives and give to any homeless person you deem needy?”
“You mean, I should give them to four different persons, five to each one? Hm, do you trust that I will do it and not just keep the money?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. I will do it. Do you want me to mention your name or something when I’ll be giving it to them?”
“Oh no, not at all…”
“Well, I’ll do it - you can bet on that!”
So my short ride brought me 60 dollars…I mean, 40 because 20 dollars were meant for somebody else. I put away four 5-dollar bills aside into the dashboard and was ready to give them to the right needy folks…
I felt a mean temptation to keep it - nobody would ever knew, but my conscience would not let me. It was not my money, and I tried to fulfill my promise as soon as I could.
First “fiver” went to Doctor Quinn - a black man, who claimed he
had his doctor’s office shut down by the city for hygienic violations. He used to give medical examinations to taxi-drivers for their licenses, that is why he was strolling along cab-lines, talking to cabbies and asking them for help. Sometimes I gave him something, sometimes just ignored him or was giving excuses like “it’s been slow today”. He did not insist and was walking further to the next cab. Boy, was he shocked to to get a fiver!
     Then, there’s another guy, black bearded gentleman in a wheelchair. His line is always the same:
“Can you help me tonight, brother?”
“Yes” or “No” his response is always the same:
“God bless you!”
I gave him five ones. He beamed and exclaimed his usual “God bless you”. Look, there is nothing really to be proud about, that I was giving somebody else’s money, but at least I didn’t keep them.
               
                * * *

     One black lady came up to my cab at the Mayflower hotel. I was third in a taxi line - two previous guys have rejected her. She needed to go all the way to Oxon Hill, Maryland, about twenty-five dollar ride. But a long one and inconvenient - you have to go through interstate 295, then through the hoods, and there’s not a chance to pick anybody on the way back. But she needed to go home, and she looked decent so I took her.
She asked why other drivers didn’t want to take her, so I explained:
“Nothing personal, trust me. It’s just not such a good fare - you kind of lose money on a long fare like that. It’s just if they’re lucky they can make the same amount of money for the same time, and still be in downtown. It also depends on the number of people they pick up: more people - more money! Greed. It’s a sin, of course, but what can you do. So, please, just don’t take personally…”
I tried to make her feel better.
“Now, you are the first taxi driver who explained to me what’s going on. Thank you very much, it’s very kind of you…”
We were passing Smithsonian by that time.
“You know what, is that OK if you drop me at the metro station? I’ll just take the metro home.”
“Are you sure?”-I asked.
“Yes, I’m sure. I just figured I could save about twenty dollars simply by taking metro.How much do I owe you?”
“It’s only one zone, fife-fifty, please. But I’ll be happy to take you all the way home…”
“Oh, no, don’t worry, I am OK.”
So I dropped her at the Smithsonian metro. She gave me twenty.
“I don’t need any change. And thank you again for being an honest driver…”
She was very kind. I was a kind of happy not to go all the way to Maryland, but it was her decision, and nothing I could do about it. And, frankly, didn’t want to do.
               
                * * *
       Nice-looking black girl flagged my cab in Adams-Morgan, she had a box of pizza in her hands. It was past last-call time and she was drunk. She was coming out of Common Share - famous cheap bar in Adams Morgan. The minute she jumped in my cab started smelling like pizza all over - I don’t like it when the car smells, but she was already in and I didn’t want to kick her out. Girl needed to get home! Besides, she wasn’t going too far - just to North Capitol Street, about 7 minutes of driving from Adams Morgan. She was on the phone all the way, talking to her girl-friend, complaining that the guy she met at the bar tried to drag her into bed the very first date.
“I ain’t like that, you know it, girl!”-she was yelling.
The fare was 11 dollars, she gave me 22 and jumped out. I am sure she meant to give me 12, but I didn’t stop her. Sometimes it just comes my way. I tell people if they make mistakes, give them all their change, but I figured that sometimes it is just a pay off for all my troubles - and I keep silent. The car smelled like pizza, so I accepted extra ten bucks as a compensation for that. It’s not fair - but that’s the way it is. It also depends on my mood and on the person I am giving a ride to. I am not ripping them off, I am just trying to get my little share too. It’s all peanuts, anyway…
               
                ***
     That pumped up black dude was going to meet with his partner and then to some motel to beat up a guy who stole his car. He just regretted he didn’t buy a baseball beat, but he said his friend had a gun so they could use it if needed. He said he didn’t want any trouble and that he wasn’t like that, anyway.
“I would never hurt an innocent person! I would never rob a person…A bank - I don’t care for their money, they have too much of it anyway, but not a regular person! But that guy - he will be punished today! To steal my car! I am glad I found out where he is - somebody called me and told me where that as whole is staying. I just hope it’s not a set up. That’s why I am taking my buddy with me…”
I dropped him off at his friend’s place, didn’t feel like going all the way to the motel with them - no wonder why!

                * * *
     I picked up that young black lad by the Convention Center. He was saying on the phone to his friend:
“Hey, I just got a cab. About ten of them passed by. All black drivers passed by me, can you believe it? This white driver picked me up. Are you white? Yes, he is. Now they’re talking about discrimination, man! What’s up with that shit. Hey, thank you for picking me up! Unbelievable!”
I don’t have a problem picking up anybody decent - black, white or orange! As long as the person is decent - and how would I know that? Just intuition, just intuition…

                * * *



     I was sitting in front of strip-joint “Camelot”, there was a cab in front of me. A black dude came up to him, and then, sure enough, he came up to me.
“What’s wrong with that cab?”-I asked.
“He said he’s on call. Can you take me to Southview Apartments, it’s on the DC-Maryland border. I’ll pay you right away!”
He handed me a 20-dollar bill.
“It’s about fourteen dollars, I’ll give you seventeen!”
“Come on in!”-I said. So he jumped in. The car instantly started smelling like fish and beer.
“I work at the warehouse on the Fish Market, just trying to relax after work… Thank you for picking me up! You know how hard it is to catch a cab in DC, I give them money - they still don’t want to go! But you’re cool, man! Oh, my foot hurts, I’m gonna take off my shoe…”
So he did! Now the car smelled like sweat, fish and socks all at the same time. I rolled down the window, it didn’t help. But I got him home all right, to that gated community with a security guard – it felt like jail in there!
“Thank you for the ride!”-he said.”Pray for my foot, please!”
“Let’s pray for each other, man!”-I said. “ And for all the good people of the world!”
So I was on the way back to DC in my fish-and-sock smelling car. In about an hour it stopped smelling…

                ***

        That older black lady with a bunch of plastic bags I picked up in Columbia Heights was going to the projects on 1-st and New Jersey, so I did’t expect any trouble neither did I expect any tip… On the meter it showed 8.75, so she gave me exactly 8.75 so I said thank you, when unexpectedly she gave me another five dollars! Not too many business-people do that, believe me, and she looked like a working mom from that song “She works hard for the money”. I really appreciated that, and it proved just one more time – never judge and pre-judge people!

                GAY PASSENGERS

        Gays are sweet-talkers. I can sense one when he gets into the cab or even before that - just looking at them. But when they start talking -oh, boy! - watch out! They are articulate, wisecracking and humorous, especially when they talk with each other. It’s like a mini-comedy club. Too sweet for me, but fun anyway even when they try to pick me up.
Most of gay life in Washington is concentrated around Dupont Circle and especially on 17-th street - that is they go in flocks, hugging and making out: both boys and girls. Not boys with girls, no. Boys to boys, girls to girls, trannies to…whoever. There are not as much trannies in DC as in San Francisco, of course, or they are hiding, but they live here too, right under the nose of the White House staff. Hey, we are all people, and live in a supposedly free country - there’s enough room for everybody here. I even accept it when gays flirt with me - you don’t know before you ask, right? Or even hit on me, although I prefer nice girls hitting on me, but that happens not so often…

                * * *
     I picked up that guy in front of the nightclub “Eagle”, on New York Avenue. The people who go to “Eagle” usually dress like sado-mazo admirers, but not all of them, so this guy was dressed up just as a regular DC yuppie coming out from his office on “K“ street : white pants - blue shirt, standard tie. He was talking a kind of sweet all the way to Capitol Hill, but that was all right. He was telling me that guys know how to do guys, they know better than women because they have the same physiology. A few blocks before his stop he went for it!
“Listen,”-he said.” Why don’t you park your cab and come have a beer with me? I’ll pay for your time, in fact, I’ll give you three hundred dollars. Do you make three hundred dollars a night? How about one hour? You won’t regret it, I promise.”
I smiled. It always cracks me up when gays are trying to make their case. But I don’t judge them - everyone has his own agenda in this life, and have to go for it, at least to try.
“Look, I am straight and I love women. I can give you a ride to any club in DC and you can pick somebody up - I am sure any guy would go with you!”
“Oh, please! I like you so much! Can you just touch me a little bit, please, touch my nipples, just touch it, oh, my dick is so hard, can you, can you please?”
Sounded like he was firing up right in front of my eyes. I turned around - he was actually touching himself all over, he even unzipped his pants.
“The fare is twelve dollars, sir.”- I said.
“I’ll give much more than that, just come with me.”
“All I need is twelve dollars,sir. I gotta go back downtown.”
“Oh, pleeeease!”
“Sir, I am really straight, I am sorry. I mean I am not sorry, but that’s the way it is.”
He seemed to be disappointed. He gave me some money - it was five brand-new twenty dollar bills.
“Keep them all”- he said.
“Sir, that’s too much.”
“Oh, no, keep them. I have more. Can you change your mind, though?”
He was waiting for me to change my mind, but I didn’t.
“Well, may be next time you‘ll be ready to try something new.. Just keep the money.”
He got out of the cab and still was waiting for me while I slowly drove off. He was standing in front of a nice townhouse, looking at me all the way until I turned the corner. Yeah, I kept the money, he insisted on it, what could I do? I think he felt better this way - he bought himself some hope.
               
                * * *
     But if you’re not too interested gay guys kind of look down on you and become formal. One guy was hitting on me all the way from Pennsylvania Avenue to Doubletree in Crystal City. He was telling how beautiful the view from his room was, and that the room service is open all night long, and that I wouldn’t regret it if I went up with him just for a couple of hours… I was polite but unresistable. So when he was unloading and it was time to pay the fare of sixteen dollars he gave me exactly that, not a cent more as a tip. And he didn’t even say good-night - he was disappointed. I wasn’t - I got my fare and my ass was safe, too!

                * * *

     There are not too many transvestites in DC. Well, may be there are but they’re keeping a low profile. Sometimes it’s not easy to tell the difference. Like that woman who got into my cab at the Mayflower hotel, started joking and flirting with me. She had a kind of hoarse voice, but I could never tell that she was a man. Until I would touch her groin, of course, which, luckily, I never did. But when I was dropping her off she asked for my phone number, and I did give it to her. Her name was Amber - sounded feminine to me…
     She called me in a few days proposing to go for a drink. That voice again made me suspicious, so I joked and flirted for a few minutes on the phone, and then bluntly told her:
“I meet so many people in my cab, sometimes I don’t remember all of them. Of course, I remember you, but could you tell me about yourself: are you gay, straight, or a TV?”
There was a pause.
“TV is transvestite, you know it, don’t you? But I am a transsexual”
Well, Amber was in the process of transformation - born as a boy, he decided to become a woman, and she liked guys, and he was supposed to have operation in a few weeks, and she would love to hang out with me at his place…
“Wow, that’s terrific! Is it possible I’ll take a rain check this time? I am driving around downtown and there’s so much people around, I’ll try to make some money,”- I lied and promised to give him, no - to her a call when I’ll be free. Rain check for the end of times, no doubt!

* * *
     You never will be bored with gay people, that is for sure! Most people in Washington are quite flat, at least they don’t display their passions and feelings in public, so they remind me some sort of robots. But you can’t point at gays as hypocrats - they usually speak their mind presenting it in such a funny manner, too. And they hit on you openly. I wish girls in Washington were hitting on me as much as gays do!
I picked up those three guys on the corner of 17-th and K. The guy who took his seat next to started talking right away, like “Where are you from?” and “Oh, you are so cute”. He was hitting on me all the way to Arlington, he even managed to touch my legs slightly while I was driving - but I forgive him for that: he was putting a 20-dollar bill on my laps, actually on the seat in-between my laps, slick bastard! He touched my arms too, but I laughingly told him please not to do it. I was laughing all the way off these guys, really with these guys. His friends told the guy in the front seat that I was not gay, and he wouldn’t succeed, which I confirmed, saying:
“Not gay, not even bi. Just straight. Like a shot of vodka!”
“Oh, vodka! We love vodka! I have a bottle right in my place. Would you like to try it? It is very good! Not even for a five-hundred dollars would you take a break? No, you are saying “no”? Well, do you have a card? What do you mean you only work in DC, can’t you pick me up in Arlington? Oh, it’s a pity!”
On the way he managed to drop another 20 on my lap- so I already had 40 bucks for a 15-dollar ride, it was ok.
I told them that it was fun driving them, which was true. They made me laugh, too bad they didn’t give me 500 just for driving them home!

* * *
      Those two black gay guys flagged me on K street. They were going to Club Chaos - gay hang-out on 17-th Street. Gosh, this guy started hitting on me right away!
“Oh, you are sooo hot! Oh, please, can you go with us? Oh, I’ll be talking all night long how hot my taxi driver was!”
He started petting my neck. I said that he could joke and have fun, but no touching. That bastard didn’t listen - as soon as we pulled to the club, he groped my leg. Well, I am not an expert in hap-ki-do but I have an idea how to twist an arm - that is what I did. I twisted his arm. He was quite flexible, that gay dude.
“ Oh, twist it more, please, please! I love it! I wish you twisted me all night long! Oh, oh!!!”
    So I twisted his wrist a little stronger and pushed him out of the cab. His friend was already out, at least he behaved. And he paid 10 bucks on an 8-dollar fare. I could ask for more as a compensation for the trouble but I was happy to kick the dude out without future incident. And that wrist-twisting worked, too!

                ***
     Those two guys from 17-th Street started making out the minute they got into my cab! I turned up the music so they would have more fun - and they did! One guy went down on another, the other was moaning like crazy! I tried to drive smoothly so not to spoil their fun. The guy sitting behind me was coming, coming, coming, and finally came! I dropped them off at the Capitol Hilton - didn’t get a huge tip, but free entertainment was worth it!

                ***
       That well-dressed tall black gentleman was going from 22-nd and “P” street to Columbia Heights, I was sure he came out of “Fireplace” well-known for its non-traditional clientele. He started his show right away calling himself the Emperor of Rome:
“I am the Emperor of Rome! Would you like to touch my strong arms, would you like to feel my bycepses, oh you drive so nice, my Roman citizen! I need ja-ja, give me that ja-ja, please, will you? Will youi come with me to my place? You will be rewarded generously, oh my driver! I am Julius Ceasar, what is your name?”
“Ivan”,I said.”Ivan the Terrible. Have you heard about me”
“Ivan the Terrible? Oh you must come with me, Ivan!”
He started touching my shoulder.
“Ivan the Terrible does not like touching. He cuts hands off for touching” I said, playing his game.
“Oh you so cruel, Ivan”, he moaned.”So will you come with me and give me some ja-ja?”
I didn’t know what ja-ja was but didn’t want to give it to him anyway…
Funny thing, in a few minutes a picked up another black gay customer, and he was hitting on me too, and tried to touch me too.
“Joking is ok, but touching is not”- I said to him.”My girl-friend wouldn’t appreciate it, you know”.
“May be you change your mind one day, do you have a card?”
“I don’t work on calls, but if I see you I’ll be happy to pick you up, my friend”, I said. It’s never boring to drive those dudes, that is for sure!

***
     Another black gay dude was smoking weed right in my cab - I let him, because I like the smell of magic grass much better than plain ciggies, he was offering one to me too, so I had a drag with him.
“I am going to a party, you can join me. No? Well, can we stop somewhere and take care of business on the way?’-he asked. ”I just want to suck your dick, you are so beautiful, my Russian driver! I am a ballet dancer, I know a lot of Russian dancers, I can hook you up. We just had a performance at the Kennedy Center, we will have more. Do you know “Nutcracker”? I’d like to crack your nuts, can I please? I’ll introduce you to Russian ballerinas as a reward…”
He was going on and on. Oh, I’d love to meet Russian ballerinas only under different circumstanses! When I was dropping him off by a huge house on 16-th street I saw a bunch of those ballerinas getting ready to party. I wonder if they usually smoke weed before or after the performance?

* * *
         I got lucky a few times driving drunk. Not just driving a regular car but a cab with passengers in it! Not just anywhere but right here in the nation’s capital with so much police presence. I feel that I am more concentrated and focused on the road when I am drunk - I know, of course, that it is an illusion.
      I remember when I got stopped by police in Richmond, Virginia. It was a regular car though - I wasn’t a cabbie at that time, and my car was a white 1980 Chevrolet Camaro with louvers and a roof, a muscle car I was proud of and acted appropriately like a wreckless redneck. On Wednesday nights one of the most popular bars in Richmond was Mulligan’s on West Broad street. So we went there with my friend Misha - he was originally from my hometown Riga, so we became friends in Richmond, and went to different bars together for girl-hunting. That is why we went to Mulligan’s in the first- place, and to get drunk, of course. So we were sitting by the bar, when I noticed a super-sexy vixen in a black dress and high-boots-immediate turn-on foe me.
-I like your dress,-I said, using simple but effective pick-up line. Her reaction was quick and adequate:
-You’re not bad yourself,-she smiled. She was drinking a sea-breeze, so I ordered one more for her, and one for my own self. We talked and drank, drank and talked - we both had about four of those sea-breezes by the last call, plus my favorite white-Russian-no-ice for the road. My friend Misha went home, so me and Patricia went to see him off and actually decided not to get back into the bar - the time was up already anyway. I offered to give her a ride to her car - she easily accepted and got into my Camaro. Easily enough we started kissing right away, and I touched her breast - she moaned like crazy, so I didn’t miss the opportunity and drove off to the nearest business-center parking lot. Boy, did we make love! She was such a great slut! Sucked, and fucked like hungry, and her classy dress and underwear were a good plus too. Although there is not enough room in a car, it was enough for both of us. She asked me to come on her face - I did right that with pleasure! So I gave her a ride back to Mulligan’s, and was driving home happily…
     That is until I saw police-lights in my rear-view mirror. They were coming after me, no doubt. I pulled over to Mc-Donald’s parking lot - there were about four cop-cars behind me already, all with lights on, as if they were conducting a special operation against a Russian mafia gang. It appeared I was not driving straight, crossing some lines, and they were waiting for a guy like me coming back from Mulligan’s…
I gave my driver’s license to the officer, but he immediately asked me to get out of the car. I realized that even inside the car it smelled like a sea-breeze, and a couple of used condoms were laying on the seat as well - so you could tell there was a little orgy in that Camaro just recently…But what I was worried about was that drunk-test. I knew I was drunk, cops knew I was drunk but I had to fail the test legally for them to arrest me, although they had their handcuffs ready for my sweaty hands. I thought it would be the end of my fun in America but didn’t give up esily -and, believe it or not, counted backwards right, said the alfabet from letter “k” right too -I was drunk but concentrated. They still would not let me slide, I knew it, so I went all the way va-bank before they would make me go through another test. See, I thought that if I had stand on one leg and to touch my nose I definetly would fall down. For me it was easier to walk on my hands than to stand.
“Sir, if I walk on my hands, will you let me go?”-I asked. I bet they never heard that request before! I was surrounded with laughing cops.
“Yeah, from here to there!”-one of them said, getting out the handcuffs. So, that was it - either I do it, or I am screwed for the rest of my life! I wasn’t sure if was able to do it but there was no time to think - so I got on my hands and started walking towards the police car…I felt that I was holding the balance, so went farther and got back on my feet right close to the Richmond Police car. When the cop was approaching me, I still thought he would arrest me. So I was holding my breath.
“Get back into the car”,-he said, so here I am sitting in my Camaro, waiting for them to decide my fate. In about five minutes officer came back.
“This is your driver’s license, sir. You know how to get home, please, drive very carefully, if you break any rule I don’t think you’ll  be able to repeat what you just did.”
“Thank you, officer!”-I said, not quite believing in my luck yet.
He paused for a second:
“And remember, you made my day!”
Wow, that was unreal, but it did happen. As for Patricia, we started dating once or twice a week after that party – her sex-drive was spectacular: she could fuck for hours, she liked to suck cock, lick balls and asshole, she always asked me to come on her face which I happily did! She took me to restaurants, and she always dressed sexy, so the men around were turning their heads, and I felt like a winner – young stud with a rich cougar. She wasn’t filthy rich, but made enough money as a high class hairdresser and drove a nice sportsy convertible Mercedes, and let me drive it from time to time.
     Sometimes she went to my place, an apartment building on Main Street at the VCU campus where I, where I rented a room just for three hundred dollars a month. I had two roommates and they got all excited when they saw Patricia dressed all sexy and provocative, especially when she was wearing high leather boots. I am sure they were jerking while I was fucking and spanking her and she was moaning and yelling loudly: “Fuck me, fuck me hard, I want more! Pleeeease, come on my face!” I also liked to tear down her hosiery and panties, then slowly inserting it in and out her vagina – that made her even wilder and wetter!
I liked her fur coat as well – once we went to a hotel Christmas party of 1993 where she rented a room, and after partying and having wild sex all night long, just before leaving, when we both were already dressed I turned her around, pulled her fur coat up and skirt and panties down, and fucked her standing from behind. She also had those high boots on – fur coat, high boots and eager pussy, what could be more exiting! But when I was coming I turned her back to me, grabbed by her hair and came straight all over her face covering eyes, nose, cheeks, lips and even ears just like she loved. She had to go to bathroom again to wash up.
   Coming down the elevator she joked and flirted with some man who visibly got excited, such a flirty slut! But Patricia was with me – super sexy vixen whom I just fucked, and spanked, and hit her ass with my belt all nigh long, so I was not jealous at all.
     Jealousy is a dangerous thing after all – I almost got killed because of it.
                ***
    Once a spotsy car pulled to Jefferson hotel and a classy dressed lady came out, I asked if she wanted her car parked, she said yes, and then all of a sudden said:” You have an accent! So sexy.” That got me exited instantly, and when in an hour or so she went back from the hotel meeting, I came up to her and directly invited her to have a beer together. She said ok and after work we met at the bar on the first floor of my apartment building.
   Shirley was married but about to divorce, her husband, she said, was treating her badly. She also had 12 year-old daughter. After a couple of beers at the bar she agreed to come up to my room for more Samuel Adams - my favorite American beer at the time.
    We were sitting next to each other and having a conversation when I finally pulled all my bravery together and kissed her. She didn’t mind at all, and we went from there – I pulled up her blouse, pulled down nice red bra and started sucking on her tits, then went down to her pussy – she was wearing red panties and stockings with black garters! I love garters – they turn me on instantly! I tore down her panties and started eating her wet pussy, then was about to fuck her but she asked if I had a condom. Yes, I did. She was a nurse and was very precautios about fucking with condoms. I also pulled my hard Russian dick out and let her suck it from time to me pulling it out and beating on her forehead. Then I pulled my belt from my pants and spanked her – she loved it! Then I sticked my two, and three, and four fingers into her vaginea, made her come twice in a row – double-cumming, she called it! Eventually I came into her mouth and let her go.
   We dated for a while after that, she was always hungry for sex, she said I owned her, she said we could go to live in a different town by the ocean after her divorce  and I didn’t have to do anything but to fuck her and treat her daughter nicely! But somehow her husband found out about her having affair, got jealous and came to my work at the hotel, started a scandal and threatening to kill me. He was a big Irish 40 year old guy, one head taller than me, working out at the gym every day – real warrior! He really was about to kill me – that’s why I say that jealousy is a dangerous thing. He blamed me for ruining his family, but that was not true - I did not know him before and was just a distraction for Shirley from her misery. Too bad she lost her head over me and came to be obsessed with me which she was saying all the time herself. She also was saying I was the best thing that happened in her  life and I could do anything to her, which I did: I fucked her on the rocks by the train rails,  in my hotel limo, on the lawn by her hospital during the break, she wanted to be fucked in the ass, wanted to be spanked by belt,  she was insisting for me to come to her nice big house, but I didn’t take that offer.   But her jealous husband was not too happy about the affair – he was furious. He came to my work a few times and was provoking me to hitting him first but the hotel security stepped in. Eventually Shirley divorced him, but for sure I was not the reason for that – he was just looking for a scapegoat and she was looking for great wild sex which I provided. After all, I did not mean to hurt anybody, and why blame a guy for an affair if woman wants it herself?  He was ready to kill me - what saved my life was moving to Washington DC.


                DRIVING DRUNK
    After I moved to DC, my friends from Richmond were telling me, that when they got stopped by Richmond police, they were asked a few times:
“Are that Russian who walked on his hands?”
No, that lucky Russian was me and I was in DC already! Keeping to test my fate driving drunk from time to time, although every time telling myself it would be my last time. And breaking that promise every time I was coming from Russian parties.
   Boy, those Russian parties are wild! Lots of vodka and beautiful girls! We like to gather at somebody’s house, fifty or sixty people sometimes, talk, dance, get drunk, and go to a club afterwards. Our favorite club was Ozzio’s - quite a classy dump full of foreigners and Eurotrash. No jeans and sneakers. Mostly black clothes - mafia-type crowd Or wanna be mafiozi… Quite often we went to the club in my cab, so I dropped off my friends in front of the club, and then parked somewhere around the corner - there was no need for door-security to know my real occupation. They all thought I was more than that - coming in in a blzck suit, all pumped up, with a lot of gorgeous women around. And most of the times drunk already. We were coming after parties after all.
     Once my friend Gosha, a real daredevil and dream of every girl, was sitting on the passengers seat, and started playing with all the driver’s buttons and gauges - thank God he didn’t touch the steering wheel! But he did open the trunk of my cab at the speed of 60 miles an hour, right on the DC side of the 14-th Street bridge. Here we are - two drunk Russians, jumping out of the cab full of 5 more drunk “malchiki i devochki” and shutting that trunk down in front of the police and security of administrative buildings! I guess they didn’t realise we were so drunk that didn’t pay attention at them - so we went straight to Ozzio’s and went on partying. I don’t remember how I got them all back home - but I got lucky that’s for sure.
               
                * * *
       I really got lucky when after one party got so greedy that decided to make a few more bucks and stopped by the Mayflower Hotel to pick a fare at four in the morning. The fare came at 5 - a couple was going to the airport.
At first they discovered a half-empty bottle of Stolichnaya Vodka right at the back seat of my car - I forgot to put it away! The car smelled like alcohol and smokes too, so I noticed their suspicion the very first second .
     “ One of the passengers probably forgot it…”-I mumbled, taking that bottle and putting it under the seat. They looked at me with fear, but we were already pulling away to the National Airport.
     That stupid car’s gas arrow had a problem - when it showed that gas tank is quarter full that meant it was almost empty, but I though it would be enough for us to make it to the airport…No, it wasn’t! The car stopped right on Constitution Avenue with a nice White House view from that spot.
     “This arrow is lying..”-I wasn’t quite articulate at that point, the smell and affect of alcohol kicked into my head with new strength. I had to act, and I had to act quickly! I jumped out of the cab, opened the trunk, opened their door, and saw a taxi coming in our direction. I flagged it, it was empty, thank God! - quickly put the suitcases into his trunk, and told him to go to the airport. The passengers were looking around - I knew that if they saw a policeman, they would give me out in a heartbeat, but they were late for their flight and left, looking angrily at me, standing by my cab and peeping into the fuel tank whole as if I could see something there. And here cane the cop - patrolman on a motorbike.
“Finished!”-I said to myself but aloud I said:
“I am out of gas,”- and pointed at my fuel tank.
“Was somebody drinking in your cab?”-was his first question.
“I was working all night long ,sir, got tired, all kinds of people were coming from the bars…”-I hardly muttered words.
He gave me a strange look. I kept silent.
“Ok,”-he said.”I’give you ten minutes. Go get the gas and move out of here. I’ll be back in ten minutes!” - he put a flare behind my cab and drove off. He, probably, was an angel taking pity on me.
     I flagged a cab, went to the gas-station on M-street, got back with a fuel canister, right in time before the flare went out… I was so happy to get out of that place, I promised myself not to drink any more at all, but broke those promises many-many times more!

                * * *
      I picked up that guy from the corner of 19-th and M. Boy, was he wasted! So was I. I was on the way home from Rosslyn, from my friend’s party, and could not resist temptation to make another buck.
The guy was going to Arlington, and we talked all the way there about all kinds of drunk stuff - snubby Washington bitches, Anna Kournikova, hockey, martial arts, best cars, politics… By the time we pulled to his house, we were drunk buddies already - he was friendly hugging me, and I had my hand on his shoulder -the other one was on the steering wheel. I did not forget to take the fare though. He did not forget to give me a nice tip either. I got lucky again - no police that time!

                * * *

     If I am drunk and driving - that sucks and that is dangerous. But when you have a drunk police officer even off-duty that also shows how people lose control when drinking. This guy jumped into my cab on 16-th and P streets, and started brandishing his police badge and talking trash loke how bad DC taxi drivers are, and that he knows all the rules ,and that he won’t let me take advandage of him, and that my license was not displayed in full view. So I gave him a ride to 7-11 on 17-th Street,he was going to leave without paying, so I shut the doors.
“I’ll be back and I’ll pay when you give me a ride back!”-he yelled.
“Can you pay me first, and I’ll wait for you…”
“No way! I’ll pay you later! Why is there always a problem with DC cabbies. I moved from Boston and never had a problem there. But here… when I’m on patrol I will stop every each and one of you, bastards…”
He did get out of the cab and went into 7-11, I was watching him so he wouldn’t go somewhere else without paying. He did come back though… And started talking trash again like he was not going to pay that extra dollar for waiting on him…. So I put my gear on reverse and stopped right by a police car where by two police officers where standing and chatting.
“What is the problem?”-one inquired.
My passenger rolled down the window.
“Hi! This taxi driver is playing games, thinks he is a superman or something…”
“What is the problem, sir?”-officer asked me.
“I don’t have any problem. He’s just giving me hard time for nothing, I hope he pays his fare…”
“Can I talk to you for a second?”-one asked my impatient passenger and his wasted colleague. So they talked for a minute or so.
“Please, take him home he’ll be all right.”
“Oh, I know he’s all right!”-I grinned.
So the guy kept quiet for most of the way to 16-th street.
“You’re not getting any tip!”-he declared. I didn’t really need a tip, it was a short fare both-ways, plus I added a couple of dollars - so it was 15 dollars altogether. Enough for me plus bonus in the form of entertaining drunk cop! That’s why I love my job - free entertainment for which you get paid too!

                * * *
        I was coming once from a birthday party. I even took birthday guys - Gena and Filipp home from the park in Potomac, Maryland -I wasn’t drinking there much, just a few glasses of wine. But on the way back we stopped by at a bar on 16-th Street and had a few shots of vodka for free, since those guys were bartenders at Russia House and they knew a lot of other bartenders. Never mix up drinks, that’s the rule! It screwed me up a little bit. On the way home I stopped by the 7-11 on Columbia Road. As I was backing my car I accidentally hit another cab. Three Ethiopian cabbies were standing right there and talking. I’m just glad it was not a police car that I hit - a lot of policemen go to that particular 7-11 for a nasty hot-dog and donuts with coffee. It doesn’t really matter when you’re hungry!
So I got out of my cab - and realized I was drunk. My Ethiopian colleagues looked at me with amasement, the owner of the cab came up to check the damage -there was none, just a little jammed license plate. I was standing and looking at his car…
“What happened - are you tired?”
I just nodded, didn’t want to say much. Guys said something to each other in their native language and smiled. I guess they felt some alcohol coming from me.
“It’s all right, man. No damage…We all are taxi-drivers, after all,”-the cab owner said.
“If there are any problems, please, call district cab,”-I muttered.
“No, no, it’s OK!”-Ethiopians grinned looking at me like I was funny.
     Boy, I like those guys - wise, smart and intelligent! They let me slide, police would not! How many more times will I drive drunk? How many more warnings should I receive from the Almighty?-I was cursing at my own self. Ethiopians let me slide, the Almighty let me slide - but for how long? I have to cut that crap!

                * * *
     That Mexican dude was drunk as shit, and he was only going a few blocks. The fare was 6.50. He gave me 20 and got out. I wasn’t trying to stop him and give his change. I did stop people and gave them change in similar situations quite a few times but came to the conclusion that everyone should pay for their mistakes and if I got extra money I kept them without remorse. Not that he meant to give me that much - but we don’t always get what we mean, right? He paid for getting him home safe - and it is worth even more the money! Both of us were happy - that what counts!

                ***
     An evening-dress-and-tuxedo couple was going to Virginia from The Willard Hotel - they had some kind of corporate party there. Young lady was so drunk, that she started throwing up through the open window of the car. I pulled up, she went out and after finishing her dirty business got back into the cab. Her gentleman was apologetic, but I understand very much that feeling of being too drunk - so I didn’t blame her. Well, the guy gave me extra twenty bucks for “inconvenience”, I cleaned the car - and went on! The car smelled for a while, of course, but the smell of twenty dollar bill was sweeter, anyway!

                ***

     Those two Russian waitresses I was giving a ride to were drunk as shit! Natasha and Olya were their names, they were coming from some party. I usually don’t work on calls but some friends know my number and they ask me to give them a ride from time to time. I do it for free for them – it’s like taking a break. So my friend , a bartender, Filipp called and invited to some after-hours party, so I took a break, didn’t drink much, just a couple of shots, and then those to girls asked me to give them a ride home. Natasha just got fucked in the bathroom, she was very drunk, I wouldn’t wanna screw her in that condition but my friend Gena didn’t mind so she came out of the with her underwear in her hands. How could I not give a ride to those beautiful compatriots of mine? So I did.
     They were going to Arlington, we laughed and joked all the way, Natasha put her underwear back on. Then, when we were crossing the bridge to Virginia she suddenly started puking all over the car, and I didn’t have a chance to stop the car on the bridge! My goodness, that vomit covered the floors, the doors, and the back seat! Her black evening dress was covered by vomit too! Her friend’s dress got a piece of it as well.
     So I got them home, helped them, to the house they rented, but there was no use of staying much longer for both girls were wasted and I didn’t want to screw some sleeping logs.
     I went back to my car, tried to clean it as much as I could – I used sprays and paper-towels,  opened up a few air-fresheners. It didn’t help much – the smell of the vomit was in my car for about a week!
Since then I always have plastic bags right next to me and when I give a ride to drunk people I always give bags to them just in case… It helped quite a few times – I prefer them to throw up straight in the bag then on the floor.
One guy tried to give me the bag filled up with his vomit back.
“Are you crazy?”-I said.”Throw it away yourself, or I’m gonna put it on your head!”
He laughed and put the bag in his pocket. That’s what alcohol does to you so I learn a lot looking at those drunks and try not to repeat their mistakes, I made  quite a number of my own already, just got lucky so far. But luck might fail me one day, so I try not to drink too much before driving any more. I am getting mature, you know.




                ***


        Then there was this guy from California, a movie maker.He was big and bold. He got into my cab on "H" street, on the other side of the White House.
“My man,”-he said after a few minutes of exploring me.”You seem like a guy who knows everything about this city. Tell me where can I get some grass?”
I giggled.
“Well, I don't know everything, in fact I know nothing. And I really don't know anything about grass...”
“C'mon, man! I just came from California, I shoot a documentary about Clinton, I am tired as hell. Listen, I'll give you hundred bucks if we get some stuff...”
That proposal interested me immediately. In the end,we all are for sale - I sell my time and health driving all day long, lawyer sells his savvyness and time, doctor sells his knowledge and time, prostitute sells her body and time...Hundred did not sound bad at all. The problem was to find that grass. I really never dealt with it. But I wanted to try anyway - for an easy hundred, of course. Oh, nothing comes easy in this life! We went to "Archibald's", a strip joint on the corner of 16-th and K, where I knew my acquantance Lisa by the stage-name Katya danced and may be could have helped us. Well, she didn't have any, or may be was afraid the guy was a cop. I wasn't any more - it was some kind of adventure for me. Anyway, Lisa didn't help us, just danced for us naked, got her 20-dollar tip from Mike -that was his name, and left with her new Arabian boy-friend. So I and Mike jumped into my cab, and drove right to L Street, just 6 blocks from the White House, where some shady characters and whores hung out. Katya-Lisa probably got him excited and we stopped by on street-walker dressed in a short pink skirt, her ass hanging out.
“How much do you want, babe?”-asked Mike.
“150 for an hour, honey. But let's go to the hotel, just follow me! “

     She jumped into her beat-up red Chevy and we followed her to 13-th and Rhode Island, North-fucking-East. That's when Mike started doubting his choice. When the girl got out of her car in front of some motel-by-hour Mike said:
Boy, is she crabby... Shit, I think I don't really want her...Do you want her? I'll wait...
I burst out laughing, and as the girl was approaching my cab, I got out, and tell her that my client changed his mind. I was a middle-man, you see. She was upset, but what could she do, that ugly whore? She was as beat-up as her Chevy. So we went back to “L” Street.
One black guy with an umbrella was standing on the corner of “L” and 15-th. We stopped next tio him, Mike opened his window and asked the umbrella-man about the grass. We had a feeling that was a right guy, yes, he was, but not quite. He jumped into cab, said that I looked like a cop to him, but agreed to find some grass for us.
“Here is what you do: you go to some bar, wait for me there, and me and cabbie go to some place not too far from here, and get you your thing, you know what I'm saying? Just wait for me, and I'll be back with stuff, you hear me? OK,where are you going to wait for me? "Archibald's"? Of course, I know "Archibald's"! So be there, and I'll get you nice quality refer in no-more than half-hour, you hear me?”
So we dropped Mike back at the "Archibald's" and drove to 13-th Street. Umbrella-guy told me to wait,so I waited. And waited. And waited. In 45 minutes I realised that umbrella-guy already got his 100-dollar bill and is not coming back. But I didn't get mine yet, I hadn't got even my fare money. So I rushed back to "Archibald's", Mike was not there already! Maaan! Oh, I rememebered the hotel he mentioned he was staying in - Embassy Suites on N. I dealt with that hotel before in my career, when I picked up Angie from Boston. I went strait to the front desk clerk, gave him description of Mike, so he connected me to Mike's room. Thank God, Mike picked up the phone! And did't argue or anything, just went down and gave me my well-deserved Franklin. Thus we parted.

             MEMORABLE PASSANGERS

     Two sharp young African guys got into my cab in Adams Morgan. They were students from Angola - so we talked about life and politics all the way to Bethesda. They impressed me as very intelligent and educated young lads. We went over the whole history of Angola, Russia, United States…
“You’ll be politicians after you return to Angola. May be one of you will be the president of your country!”
“We hope so!”-they said. I sincerely wished them good luck. People like that can make change for the better in this crazy deteriorating war-striving world. I met quite a lot folks like that in my cab - all kinds of race and nationalities, they still give me some degree of hope…
                * * *
     I hate when people are late for their train or plane or stupid date! It’s like I am responsible to get them to their point of destination in time! I can’t jump over traffic - cab is not a helicopter, neither do I want to get a ticket for speeding! Of course, I try and usually I succeed, but not always, not always… There was this woman, she was coming out of Holiday Inn in Bethesda - it’s Maryland, and I am not supposed even to pick up passengers there, just like in Virginia. But, of course, I do sometimes - extra fare does not hurt! So she was going to the airport, she called for Barwood Cab , they only have monopolistic Barwood in North Maryland, but it didn’t show up in time so she flagged me down. Boy, was she in a rush to catch her plane. But traffic was terrible, and I also had to put some gas - it only took five minutes though. Her flight was at 9 AM, we arrived at the airport at 8.50. I am sure she missed her plane, but I didn’t feel guilty - I tried my best. I personally try to leave much earlier not miss a plane, train, or an event. It works, too!

                ***
     Annually policemen from all over the country gather in DC for Memorial of their fallen comrades. They mostly fill up Irish bars - are all the cops Irish or what? Anyway, they party a few nights in a row, they also drink on the streets - I heard people complaining on the radio that policemen are breaking DC laws and DC police gives them a break. So what? They are just peacefully sipping their beer in front of bars - any civilian, of course, would be arrested for that, but that is a special occasion, too. So I was driving groups of cops from bars to their hotels a few nights in a row looked like “last call law” also was not in effect for them. As for me - I would cancel that stupid law at all! Cops don’t tip much but they are nice strong crowd - all those SWAT guys. And girls, too - lots of women-cops in the US!
I was driving one group from Sacramento - fun crowd, those Californians! A day earlier I saw an army of Sacramento Sherriff motorcycles riding through DC - I was wondering how they made it all the way from California. So those Sacramento cops told me that bikes were shipped separately , and then they arrived on the plane. One of their duties is to escort the Governor , too - they must have been good friends with Arnold Shwartsnegger! One Sacrementian police-lady were asking me all kinds of questions, I felt like she was ready to invite me over, but with othe five buddies on the back seat she wouldn’t dare - hey, reputation comes first!
Those two Chicago cops told me a lot about their city, and how you could get killed over ten dollars there.
“It can happen anywhere! Look, I don’t have a partition and you can rob me any time!”
One guy put a finger to my head:
“What are you gonna do?”
I kind of pulled it away, but said jokingly:
“Nothing I can do! You want my money - take them! ...But I am gonna beat you up!”
So we all laughed! They tried to convince me to join them for a beer, they said I was the coolest taxi-driver they met in this city.
“Hey, there are a lot of cool ones!”-I said.”You weren’t just lucky enough! And now you are!”
Anyway, I didn’t go for a beer - there was still a lot of cops hanging around the bars. And it was 4 AM!
“Run the red red light, run the red light!” -the Baltimore cops yelled louder than my radio.
“Yeah, I run it and you’ll give me a ticket!”
“Oh, no! Never to you - you drive just like us - speed, brake, speed, brake… You drive so fast, you could be a cop!”
“No, I’ll leave that to you guys, you’re stronger!”
But that’s true - when I am in a good mood I drive like a drag-racer, that’s why I like to drive at night, too - there’s no traffic at all and the streets are clear. So I am flying! You gotta be careful though. So I usually am - but sometimes I just put a pedal to the metal and…off I go!


                * * *

     This nice Jewish couple came from New York. But just three years ago they immigrated from Odessa, Ukraine, - oh, yeah, we spoke the same language. They loved America! They loved New York! They loved Washington! I gave them a tour around the Monuments, all the way along the Mall. Misha and Raya were their names. They told me they had a son who had joined US army. That brought my own memories about ywo years of service in the Soviet Army, and about a fellow-soldier who committed suicide. I wrote a poem in his memory:

POTATO PEELER

Dedicated to Dmitry Sliozberg ,
who met his demise by the
cruelty of the Soviet military
machine. Abakanovo, Vologda
Region, 69-th anti-aircraft
defense Brigade , USSR,1988.


In a far-away, across-the-ocean, always smiling country,
Where supermarkets are all bright, and full, and shiny,
I went and bought a plain potato peeler.
And memories, erased by time, were reborn quickly,
And drew the gloomy picture back to me much clearer.

I saw a snowy, dreary, hungry Russian winter,
And barracks full of soldiers, stern and rigid.
There was a Jewish kid from Moscow – former student,
He tried his best to live in an atmosphere hostile and frigid.

His name was Dima. He was shy, polite and friendly –
The only child his parents ever knew.
But Comrade Major had his personal opinion:
“This schmuck’s place is in the kitchen, among the chosen few.”

They gave him as his weapon that dull and rusty knife,
And peeling up potatoes he was both days and nights.
And not a single kind word he ever did receive –
Just yells, and screams, and punches, and threats he could     believe…


His body was found hanging over the potato pile:
“Committed suicide”,- was written in his file.
The military belt became of fatal use…
“He was no good for a soldier—he couldn’t stand abuse.
The Motherland needs tough men -- like a brick, a rock, a nail!”-
Said Comrade Major smoking his Belomor-Kanal.

I’m telling you, America – it’s time to play it wise.
Instead of joint maneuvers and monetary funds,
Export potato peelers – save Russian soldiers’ lives !

                * * *
     Those two girls I picked up at Club Five were in a good mood - it was Friday night after all!
“You are Russian!”-one yelled immediately.”I knew you were Russian the minute I saw you! I have to kiss you! I love Russian men. Hey, Ivan Drago...”
She did kiss me on the cheek. We chatted all the way to Arlington, but I did not feel any sexual attraction, so just tried to be friendly. She was a nice young lady from Philly -her name was Amy, her girl-friend was from here- they went to school together. She kissed me one more time after paying the fare, well, if they'd invited me over, I might have changed my mind about that sexual attraction after a couple of beers, but it all was a kind of friendly. But it was fun anyway!
I felt her lipstick on my cheek all the way back to DC!

                ***
          I just returned home from that strange ride! I picked up that woman not too far from my place, on the way home. She was going to 600, 46-th place NE. She complained that they didn't want to take her even when she was paying. She was may be on drugs, may be ill - I don't know. Anyway, I took her there, but I
wasn't sure enough how to get there,  and she wasn't much of a help - so we got lost on the way there, I don't know why - but we ended up on route 50,went all the way around, then to Southern, so eventually we made it there. It is close to Benning Road. I didn't know it! She was nice though, didn't complaint much. Oh,
there were some characters standing on that cul-de sack, so I retrieved quickly. And I got lost on the way home too! Ended up going home via 495! Was very happy to get back to DC! All that Maryland driving around seemed like being in a strange unfamiliar town! I don't know what why it happened this way, but
it was strange! That ride took me about 2 hours, and I was running out of gas on 495! That would be something too! Well, I made it home, and very happy about it!

                * * *

       It pays off to be honest. Not that you want to be honest because it pays off… It just feels good! Every time I return a mobile phone, or a driver’s license, or a wallet to somebody I do feel blessed. I don’t need their phone - I have my own. Money? You will know in your own mind that you are a thief and this will stay with for the rest of your life. Some mishaps, of course, happened to me too. Not that I stole anything, God forbid! But sometimes people make mistakes and pay you more than is needed, and even if you notice it in time you occasionally keep silent. Not always, but sometimes.
                * * *
     Like that couple I took to Doubletree in Crystal City. The fare was 15 dollars, the guy gave me a bill and asked for three dollars back, which I gave to him. Pulling away I looked at the bill - it was a hundred dollar bill. I looked in the rear view mirror: the couple was getting into the hotel doors, I needed either to make a turn or to go in reverse quickly to catch up with them. I did neither. I kept that bill, although all the way to DC was thinking about returning to the hotel. Once I passed 14-th Street bridge it was too late anyway. There was nowhere to make that U-e - nice excuse for dishonesty, isn’t it?
                * * *
     A group from England was coming from the bar to the Melrose hotel on Pennsylvanya Avenue - two guys and three gals. They were ok, they paid their fare, without tipping like most of the Europeans, and were on their way to the front doors. While I was already pulling away I’ve noticed that they dropped some paper on the floor. I stopped, picked it up - there were two 20-dollar bills. “May be they’ll learn how to tip next time”- was my vicious thought exactly, and I simply drove further, putting away extra forty undeserved US dollars. Well, may be they were deserved? I was just thinking about going to the gas station and filling my tank up, so those extra money came in time. Listen, I didn’t steal them, just noticed it too late…blah-blah-blah, lies and excuses - don’t make an angel out of yourself, Oleg, you know you could return it, but you simply did not!
                * * *
     Most of the time I did though. Like that girl whose wallet I found on the floor in the morning - she was my last fare, I recalled. There were some money in it - I didn’t even want to count. Bunch of credit cards, too. Oh, here is her business card! She was a legal assistant with Dickstein Shapiro Morin and Oshinsky. I called her at work, left a message with the secretary so she wouldn’t be worried and her wallet is in good hands. Tracy , that was her name, called me back in an hour or so, and later on I stopped by the Mayflower , she got into the cab - couldn’t thank me enough. She also gave me the card - I opened it in front of her: there was a twenty dollar bill in it as well. But I felt that I was just returning her belongings, and I said there was no need in money, and gave that 20 back to her! And regretted it later. It was enough to fill my gas-tank, probably wasn’t much for her, plus if people really want to give you something, they mean it, and you don’t have to feel guilty about accepting it. And five minutes later I felt stupid not to accept it. I was upset. But whatever was written in the card improved my mood a little bit - every word in it started with capital letter. It said:
“Oleg,
Thank You So Much For Being A Good Honest Man and Calling Me About My Wallet.
This Isn’t Much But Something To Remind You That Being Good pays Off. Sincerely, Tracey Geary”.
      So it did pay off - not moneywise, but morally. It’s not all about the money, after all!

                ***
     One guy was going to 2-nd and Constitution from Georgetown, it was Thursday night - a rehearsal for the weekend. He started up partying early! He wasn’t too drunk, just a little bit.
“What’s my fare?”-he asked.
“Eight-eighty,”-I said.
“Eighteen?”-he asked.
“Eight-eighty,”-I repeated.
“Here’s twony-one”-he said.”Thank you much!”
     Boy, I told him twice it was eight-eighty, he, probably, misheard it, but I didn’t want to repeat the right price for the third time, I had to put some gas - it was the right amount for that. Did I rip him off? Not really. I was honest with naming the price, so I didn’t have those pricks-of-concsience. Yeah, yeah - I could have insisted that he didn’t overpay, but , you know what, I didn’t feel like it at that point. I don’t think it was such a loss for him plus he has to clean his ears and stop drinking on Thursdays!

                ***

      You learn some tricks when driving around the city all day long and through the night as well. You want to be the first one to pick up prospective passenger, hopeful nice fare. So you see one standing half-a-block ahead and flagging a cab. But the light is red, and two more cabs are sitting on it, getting ready to speed up and steal your fare! Well, it's anybody's fare until he get in the cab. So that is what I do to win the race:
     I stop on a clear lane about a car-length behind the first car, and keep looking at the light for intersecting lane. When it turns yellow I start moving thus when it turns red and mine turns green I already pick up enough speed to overcome all other cars! The fare is mine! And he is going to Dulles airport - that is 46 guaranteed US dollars plus a nice tip. 5 dollars is not bad, 10 is better, 65 is sweet! For a fare in DC 2-3 dollar tip is usually appreciated. No-tippers are usually Europeans who do not know the customs and blacks who do not tip out of principle or poverty. When a black person tips - it's like he's doing you a great favor! In general, you have to take it easy and not have high expectations for anything - then anything extra will be good news for you. Even if they don't tip I don't have a grudge - good spirit is keeping me going on the road 12 hours a day. Or more. Or less. The best thing - I set my own hours. I am my own boss.
     I take off for 3 months' come back, and my job is waiting for me! Sure, it's a dangerous job - in DC they shoot cabbies left and right (knock on wood!) but it's fun too.

                ***
     And recently they put meters in our cabs – concern for many cabbies. They were objecting and protesting and going on strikes – it didn’t help. I was joining strikes too of course, never worked those days, just stayed at home and drank beer.  Some cabbies didn’t care about the strikes anyway, they were making real money those days at the expense of their comrades. Well, it’s their business. But I like the meters – it shows the exact fare, and nobody feels cheated or taken for a ride like with that stupid zone fare system we had before.

                ***
     Those rental cabs break down  so often that you getting tired of changing or fixing them, but it’s better than getting into accident in the middle of the highway. I was close to getting into some quite a few times.
    One time the bolt joint broke down right on Columbia Road, the front part falling down on the right wheel, and I still pulled out to the side and called a tow truck. I had a passenger at the time, thank God nobody hit me from behind, or there would be a hefty lawsuit.
     Any time you get into accident passengers can sue you for lots of money, so if I feel something is wrong with the car I go to the shop right away. Of course, bad things happen unexpectedly, and once my car lost power right on the George Washington Parkway, where there is no way to get out of the road. Cars going 60 miles an hour there but  somehow I managed to turn it on, push on the gas before the truck going behind me could smash into my rear-end.
And changing tires in the rain or in the frost not my kind of fun either, but you can’t call a tow truck for that – you gotta do it yourself.
                ***
                SAN-FANCISCO CABBYING

     My favorite town in the whole world is San Francisco. I was dreaming about going there ever since I came to the United States, I don’t know why, just had a good feeling about that town. First of all it is situated next to the Pacific Ocean. That’s a winning point in itself for me. I come from Riga, which is a port city on the Baltic Sea, and I love that sea-breeze, it gives me certain magic energy. So I knew I would love San Francisco even before I visited it, and after I visited for the first time I simply fell in love with it! What’s not to love there, tell me please? Hills, ocean, street-cars and trolley-buses, coziness and warm comfort, magic romantic fog…And, most of all, people – oh, these wonderful Northern Californians, they the most friendly and laid back folks in the world! You feel at home the minute you land at the airport. So once I bought a ticket just for a week-end, fell in love with the city and decided to move there. I thought that if I can make the same amount of money I make in DC driving a cab I should be doing ok. So I simply picked up phone and called a taxi school in San Francisco. They told me it only takes two weeks to get a taxi permit, so I was ready to go. I still kept my DC cab license, but new horizons were opening for me and I bought my plane ticket and off I was…
     Everything seems to be easy in San Francisco! In DC you have to live for two years in the metropolitan area before you can even go to taxi school, in San Francisco it takes two weeks to get a permit – all you have to do is to take the classes and pass the exam. I didn’t know the city at all when I arrived but walked all around it with the map in hand and it helped me a lot. So in two weeks I had a permit in my pocket and went to work for Yellow Cab.
     There are a few cab companies in San Francisco and Yellow Cab is the biggest. But the problem is that you can only rent a car from them for a 10 to 12-hour shift and then have to return it on time, and if you are late you pay 10 dollar fine for each half-hour of being late. And the gas tank should be full, so when you pull up to the station they top it off right there, even if you filled it up at the cheaper station before. And then you stand in line of cabbies to pay “the gates” – anywhere from 80 to 120 dollars for a shift, depending on the day of the week, so imagine that you have to give away about 150 dollars for a shift, that is with full tank of gas, plus tip the dispatcher before and after the shift. The bottom line is: taxi drivers do not make money in that beautiful city. If you are a medallion-holder, you are in a better shape, because company pays you some cash for using your medallion, but you have to wait many-many years to get that medallion and still have to work certain hours a week to get to keep it.
   Every night standing in line to pay for cab I was thinking that for a driver DC is a heaven since you can own a cab or rent it for 200 dollars a week, and the car stays with you all the time. In San Francisco even if you make 200 for a day you give up the biggest chunk of it to the company, I call it “socialism without any guarantees”, for even if you don’t make enough money you still have to pay, and no paycheck is waiting for you. And in taxi-business it is never guaranteed to make any money – some days are so slow that you even think whether to buy a sandwich or go on a diet!
Although I couldn’t save any money in San Fransisco I still enjoyed every day of being there – all those characters around you make life much more fun. And for a straight single man it’s a paradise too, for the first question the women ask you there is not “What are you doing for living?” or “ What kind of car do you drive?” but “Are you straight or gay?” and when you confirm your straightness  the next question would be “ Would you like to have a smoke with me?”. I had a feeling that everybody smoke weed in that town! It is probably illegal, but looks like nobody cares and many of my passengers rolled joints right in my cab without even asking – no wonder everybody is so happy in that town.
By the way, local people never call it San Fran, only tourists or sailors do. The name in itself is so beautiful that it’s a shame to shorten it!
                ***
    I was giving a ride  to three girls to Embarcadero  and “Hotel California” was on the radio, so all four of us were singing along –it was so romantic to drive in California singing that song!
Of course, gay guys politely try to pick you up there all the time, but when you say you’re straight they understand…Women, on the other hand, are more willing to hook up with you than anywhere in the world.
                ***
  I picked up that beautiful Ethiopian girl by the art gallery and she invited me to take a break, so I parked my cab and went up to her apartment on Geary Street. Her name was Mazaa, she worked at the art-gallery and was a decendant of some Ethiopian royalty – beautiful and intelligent, like most Ethiopians are, but also open-minded like a real San Franscian. Most Ethiopian women seem to be tradional and pious, but Mazaa was not of that kind – she offered to share a joint, and after that took me by her hand and pulled me to her bed. I needed to get back to work, so after some quick passionate sex went back to my cab.
                ***
     And there are a lot of Russians and Ukranians  there too. One of my passengers, a green-eyed blondie, was reading a Russian book, so I asked her what it was to strike up a conversation. Her name was Marina, and she was originally from Western Ukraine, but won the greencard lottery and worked at the restaurant as waitress. So she gave me her phone number and we met for a drink in a few days. Then we went to her apartment for tea… I couldn’t imagine that she was as horny as she was, I didn’t even have a chance to finish my cup of tea before she went down and unzipped my pants… So every time I wanted some tea-and-sex break I stopped my cab on Vanness Street and had a great time ther. She also was a good cook and her Ukranian borsh followed by rough sex was a good treat!
                ***
       I was first in line at trendy “W” hotel when doorman called me and opened my door for a passenger -  a blonde woman who asked me to take her to Twin Peaks and back. She was a tourist from Minnessota, her name was Brenda. The view from the Twin Peaks is fantastic! You can see the whole city surrounded by the ocean from there, so she took some pictures and then wanted to sit down next to me on the passenger seat and smoke a cigarette. Usually there are lots of tourists on that hill, but it was getting late and there were not too many at that time.
“Do you mind if I do something to you?”- Brenda asked. No, I didn’t mind. How could I object to her passionately sucking my cock while I was enjoying that beautiful view! I was fingering her wet vagina at the same time and made her come too, so we both were happy. I took her back to “W” hotel where her husband was attending some conference, she paid her fare and tipped too – she gave me three twenty-dollar bills, and went to my Ukrainian friend with benefits Marina for a borsh since after that Twin Peaks fare I got a little hungry.
   
                ***
                BACK IN DC
            I enjoyed San Francisco very much but it was time to renew my cab license in DC so I went back to that gloomy serious political town and rented a cab again. The good part is I don’t have to give away my hard-earned money every night here, the bad part is that I left part of my heart and soul in Northern California – the utopian paradise on Earth!
The system of cab-driving in Washington DC is good for cab-drivers, just because every cab-driver in DC is an independent self-employed and self-respecting man. Most of the cabs belong to the drivers – that means NO BOSSES and free schedule : you can work as long as you can, well, officially you can not work more than twelve hours without a break, but who cares, really? So you make your own schedule and keep all the money, except that you take care and repair the car for your own money plus you pay weekly insurance which is 40$ - quite doable! You can , of course, rent the cab as well for 200$ a week – that is what I was doing most of my years driving...Thai way I was not responsible for repairs and inspection – the company took care of all this, and saved me a whole lot of money. And I could take vacation any time I wanted – sometimes I spent time in my native city of Riga, Latvia, for months!Not every corporate  worker can afford it, on the other hand all I was doing during those vacations -  just wasting and spending money on nightclubs , drinks and girls. Oh, Riga is one of the best cities in the world for nightlife – there's no last call, all clubs are open till 5-6 AM, and full of mind-bugling pretty and friendly girls. So friendly that you hardly go home by yourself – most of them I was making love to the very night I met them!
In Washington people are serious, and so are the women. They came here  to make a career in their field, they all are independent and emancipated, all are agenda-driven. First question they usually ask is “What do you do for living?” as opposed to San-Franciscan “A you straight or gay?”
So if you are not connected, if you don't work for a law-firm or non-profit, or state Department, or some senator or congressman – they look down at you like you are a total loser! And don't tell them that you are a cabbie – they would think you're joking... I personally don't care – I am not much of a lier anyway, but it's a huge turn off point for women, unless they are in your cab and drunk...

      Washington is not a really happy and joyful city, not much  nightlife in comparison with other world-class cities such as New-York or Moscow.
 Money and power are here, but the town is so segregated that some neighborhoods remind of third-world countries, I'm not even kidding. Blocks and blocks of projects and similarly looking row-houses with no shops, bars or even corner-delis make big part of DC. It is so gloomy even to drive through those hoods! The problem with DC is zoning : there are lots of residential non-commercial zones, where it is simply prohibited to open anything commercial. You have to walk a long distance before you hit a store, and that would probably be a liquor store. It's hard to find a good place to eat in these kind of neighborhoods. No wonder these hoods are crime-ridden and dangerous – there's not much to do here anyway...
Even in a downtown it's hard to find a place to eat after 10 PM. There is only one 24-hour Diner in the whole capital of the United States, and a couple of 24-hour restaurants. The line to the Diner on 18-th street on week-ends is outrageous, people wait for hours just to get a seat there and kill their hunger after night of drinking. So ridiculous!

                ***


       Life gives us chances every day! Some we take on, some we miss. I've missed a lot!
One nice spring day I was giving a ride to a well-dressed gentleman to the House of Representatives, Rayburn Building. It was in the spring of ‘99 - in the middle of Serbian bombing campaign.
       Boy, was I mad at Clinton at that time! How can you bomb the whole country in order to distract from your personal problems? I didn't have any objections to Monica's blowjobs in the oval office - I saw Monica , by the way, coming to Mayflower hotel, wasn't impressed much, except by her hat, but that's Bill's choice, or lack of it, for that matter. He is human too, you know. At least I considered him such before he gave orders to bomb Serbian people. I was so appauled that wrote a short poem called

THE EFFECT OF A BOOMERANG:

NATO is dropping bombs,
NATO is killing civilians.
Destroying bridges and domes,
Erasing the culture of millions.

The war-machine is untied—
It’s dancing, howling and grinning.
Its muscles have been fortified
For ruining, slaying and winning.


Winning at any price –
Confirming the right of the strong
To enjoy spreading evil and vice,
To dictate where one should belong.


The diplomacy of the jet-fighters
Has become NATO’s only policy.
Clinton’s, Albright’s and Blair’s speech-writers
Concentrating their efforts on policing.

They want to police our planet.
But what moral right do they have?
This president’s personal problems
Can lead into global mass-grave.

And general Clark’s prideful statement ,
That his “ aviation is God”?…
To me, he sounds more like Satan ,
Who all Christian values forgot.

These leaders forgot simple truth:
If one creates the big bang ,
It will come back sooner or later –
It is like a huge boomerang.

American people, please, listen:
Stop war-hungry leaders of yours
Before in your prosperous country
The sound of the sirens occurs.


My Serbian brothers and sisters!
The whole world is praying for you!
Your proud and unbreakable eagle
Will fly ever higher anew!

      I also took part in the protests by the White House and Petagon. It didn’t help but at least Í did what I could do - add my voice into the chorus against unjustified war, and not ashamed of it! I just parked my cab a few blocks from the White House, unfolded my Russian banner, and joined Serbians and Americans protesting against that madness. Russian flag looks like turned upside down Serbian, so a lot of Russians were coming to me and marching around the flag I was holding. Serbians were grateful too for our support. I even said a few words to local news reporter saying basically that negotiations is the only good solution - they showed it on the news the very same day! Well, you can see how I was taken away by that campaign. On the dashboard of my cab I glued a cut from Washington Post’s article: NATO BOMB HITS THE TRAIN. 50 PEOPLE DIE.
       Those guys in the uniform getting in my cab weren’t too happy about it, but nobody ever objected. All they did was asking about my feelings, and I truly and sincerely was telling them - it is a free country, after all!
       Well, getting back to that lobbyist going to Rayburn… We talked about this and that, not too much about the war, and suddenly he said:
“Your English is excellent! Why don’t start translating for me. My translator, Natasha, is leaving the office - she is expecting a child, you can easily replace her. Your English is better than hers, anyway. Here is my card - give me a call and we’ll set everything up!”
Can you believe such a luck! I graduated from the Latvia University Foreign Languages Department - it was always my dream to become a translator! I took the card…But never called the guy. Why? I couldn’t imagine translating for somebody may be in support of bombing poor Serbians, or creating intrigues against mother-Russia. Stupid boy! I would be just doing my job, probably inputting for improvement of relationships between our great peoples. I would improve my own qualifications day by day - more brain work than driving cab from morning till dawn! I would get paid decently, after all! It would be a challenge and perspective for me! By the way, I could still keep my taxi license and work whenever I wanted. But I didn’t. I simply screwed up. This was my lifetime opportunity , and I missed it. I missed the card too after a few weeks. I wish I’d found it now somewhere - I would call the guy, believe me! I would just ask him - is it too late? Of course it is, damn it! O’K - I guess my fate is to drive cab for the rest of my life, let me at least try to get the best out of this craft!

                * * *
      And here are a couple of women getting into my cab in front of Clyde’s bar in Georgetown. It was in the afternoon, but looked like they had some drinks already. Not too much but exactly enough to feel tipsy.
“Please, take us to that Fucking-Bottom metro station…”
“Oh, Foggy Bottom, you mean.”
“Yeah, whatever. Wow, you’re cute”,-one of them said. I smelled sex. She was wearing white shorts and a white blouse, her boobs were quite large too.
“My name is Joanna. We are from Seattle”, - she started talking, staring at me all the time.”And we are leaving tomorrow. My lost my husband recently, so I am single now… Do you wanna come with us to Seattle and marry me?”
       Wow, that was quite a shocking question! I played it cool though, pretending not to hear that last part and said :
“Accept my condolences. Or congratulations, I don’t know what suits you better…”
Foggy Bottom metro station is not too far from Georgetown, so by that time we were pulling to it already.
“Listen, how much would it cost to get to Hyattsville? Can you take us there?”
By mileage it probably would be around 12-15 bucks, but I decided to catch both hares at once: to have fun and make money - I was sure she would offer me to come in for a beer once we get there and I said :
“Forty dollars.”
Greed. Greed and lust kills the best in us.
“Well, that is a little bit expensive,” -she said thoughtfully, we pulled up to the metro station by that time. Her friend got out. Joanna was still in the cab, she paid the fare, but wasn’t leaving yet -she waited for me to change my mind about the price. I was about to offer her a cheaper ride, but her friend grabbed her hand:
“Let’s go, girl, let’s catch that train”,- and she dragged her out of the cab.
I knew I was losing that chance! I knew she was horny, so was I! I was about to roll down the window, and yell to them to get into the cab…But some guy jumped in already. Joanna was going into the metro station, turning her head and looking back at my cab a few times.
      Damn, I did it again! The opportunity was jumping on me, and I turned it away with my own hands! And regretted in a minute, but it was too late - the stupid story of my life!

* * *

       Here’s one more “fly-away bird”: it was about 2 o’clock in the morning, and I was passing the Mayflower hotel, when I saw a lady standing by the door, smoking a cigarette. She had that light white long skirt on, but you could a kind of see through it the profile of her legs, her breast was sticking out through beige blouse too. Right away I knew she was a horny whore, I don’t mean a prostitute - just a typical good old whore. She was drunk too, and that is when people are more open than ever and ready to indulge their hidden desires without a shame. There was a cab sitting first in line, so I stopped after him, still hoping that somehow he’ll be gone and she would get into my cab. I had a feeling she would need a cab. And she did! She walked past the first cab, I was about to yell:
      “Do you need a taxi, mam?”-but she passed by me too, and went along the street to the cash machine. Instead of going in reverse, I made a turn, crossed L-street and, made another U-e… and got caught in the red light. By that time she was already walking back to the cab-stand. Damn! I crossed the street on the red light still trying to pull next to her - oh, how I wanted to get her into my cab! We would definitely strike a conversation, and probably it would have lead to another moment of come and joy - in the cab or at her place. I knew it! But she’d already got into the first cab with a Pakistani driver in white robes. I hoped she would just get out at some diner, that is where I could say a couple of words to her and see what would happen. So I started to follow that cab, looked like they were going to Silver Spring. It was like in a movie -chasing that cab. I passed by a cople of people flagging me too. All I was thinking about is how to get a chance to talk to her. The driver noticed me, and at the light when I pulled on the side, he rolled down the window:
“You are following me all the way from Mayflower. What is going on?”
“It’s OK, boss,”-I said.”I was just going to give a ride to that lady…”
He looked at me disapprovingly. Then she rolled the window, lighting a cigarette, so I yelled:
“ You missed my cab!”
That horny blonde smiled, and said;
“Sorry!”
The cab pulled away. I still was following it, waiting for them to stop and continue our brief conversation after her getting out… But they were still going along Georgia Avenue. So I pulled at the side of that cab again, and asked the driver strange and stupid question:
“Is she going to Silver Spring?”
That driver looked at me with suspicion. She all of a sudden rolled down the window herself, and yelled:
“Why are you asking?”
Boy, was she sexy, I could smell it! But the situation looked really ugly, I only can imagine what she was thinking, especially if the driver had told her that she’d being chased…
Well, I didn’t know what to answer.
“I am…just…asking”,- I mumbled.
“Ou Kay!”-she said, looking slightly surprised. The cab pulled away, and I gave up- made a turn and went home. I can imagine what one would think about this situation: maniac taxi-driver chasing potential sex-victim. She probably was being a little worried herself -well, it’s understandable! Had she gotten into my cab in the first place - then we could probably work it out, but following her all over town looked really unusual and dangerous. It was idiotic! So I’m glad I turned back, but the whole occurance made me think as if it was staged somehow by someone: first I was teased, couldn’t cope with the desire, fell for the lust wholeheartedly and the result was laughable and ridiculous - disappointment and feeling as a loser. Oh, yeah, I was definitely laughed at!

                * * *
       A couple jumped into my cab by the Camelot, a famous strip-joint. A sexy blondie in her early twenties and a guy, a kind of Middle Eastern looking, but without any accent though. She started beating on the guy as soon as we took off:
“You mother-fucking son of a bitch! Why did you talk to to CJ? I waited for half-an hour for you! You couldn’t talk to som hot chick? No, you wasted your time on her! She’s not hot, she is ugly. You could talk to some hot chick and bring her home so we could both fuck her! No, she is not hot at all! I hate her! I hate you!…”
She was literally beating him up, he was just smiling and triying to hold her hands.
“ You know those whores are just after your money! I know cause I work there too! I don’t wanna work there any more - you made fool of me in front of everybody! You’re not gonna fuck me tonight, not in my ass at least! How much you wasted tonight? Twelve hundred? You tipped CJ two hundred? You fucker! They just use you!And I love you! Yeah, I know I am not your girl-friend, I still love you! I even let you fuck my best friend in her ass! Mr. Cabdriver, how many people would do that? Mr. Cab-driver would like a lap-dance?..”
She suddenly leaned forward and touched my neck. I was driving on 395 at the speed of 70 miles per hour, I am glad I can control myself.
“Hey, I gotta get you guys home safe!”-I said.
She already pulled off her black stylish top, took off her bra too. I saw it in a rear-view mirror, but really was concentrated on the road - it was raining too.
The girl went on and on!
“I know you fucked all the girls in the club, but you are with me now! You always had a reputation, you know. I don’t care. I still fuck you. I let my friends fuck you. But hot ones, not like that butch CJ. We could fuck Sandra if you want. You want me to call her right now? You want me be a whore just like all of them? Oh, you’d love it, son of a bitch? Ok, I’ll be a whore!”
Looked like that fight turned them both on. But we were approaching gate of the apartment complex, so she put her bra and top back on. I was thinking that with this kind of money and popularity the guy would live in a mansion - no, it was a gated complex in Alexandria.
“Is 50 OK?”-he asked smiling.
“More than enough, thank you!” - I said.
They went inside. I could only imagine what went on in their bedroom afterwards!

                * * *
    I picked up Lynn at the Kennedy Center after the concert. She wanted to find a place to eat. And she was by herself - out-of-towner on a business trip. On the way to the restaurant I was hesitating - I really felt like trying that woman out, but couldn’t ask her if that would be all right to join her for a dinner. After all, what would I lose by asking her?
          Half-times it works, half-times you feel embarrassed -that’s all! They won’t bite you for asking!
           So I did ask her. She seemed a little bit surprised but to my delight agreed to have a dinner with me! So we went to Sam-and-Harry’s on 19-th Street, broke the ice there after a few beers and nice fish-dish. She was talking about politics, about world-affairs, about conspiracy-theory… She was from North Carolina, and was going to make a presentation at some conference.
She seemed friendlier and friendlier to me , so when I parked my car by her Holiday Inn on Rhode-Island Avenue I knew we wouldn’t just part… We were sitting in my car, I didn’t do anything - was waiting for direct invitation into the room.
She was waiting for something too. I was keeping silent, stupid procrastinator!
“May be it sounds too straightforward, but can I give you a hug?”-she asked. So we hugged. Is he still was waiting for something, but for some unknown reason I was waiting for whatever-the-hell what! So she sighed, whispered “Good night” and went to the hotel. She looked around a few times on the way to the door. I was frozen. I could have asked to go have a cup of coffee with her! After all, I asked her for dinner, and it worked! And I didn’t make that final move! She was ready - I knew it. But I didn’t do it. And regretted it in a minute - I felt my dick getting hard all of a sudden! Should I go and find her in the hotel? I knew her first name and that she was from North Carolina, it was about 12 AM…
Well, I didn’t go into the hotel, and was driving all the way home with my gizmo hard up and wondering about myself - what is that feature that holds me from doing some obvious things? Undecidedness, may be? Well, I’ll have to get rid of that one, but it’s been following me all my life. Hurt me a lot, too. But, may be saved me from some stupid actions? I don’t know…

                ***
      A girl with a hairdo and in an evening-dress got into my cab in front of Club Five at 4 in the morning on a Friday night.
“Wow!”-she said.”You are attractive. How long have you been driving cab? Do you like it? I am sure, you meet all kinds of people. Must be very interesting. Oh, that’s where I live… Would you like to come in for a drink?”
And I would… if I was sure it was a girl, for some reason I suspected it might have been a transvestite, although it was very hard to tell. I didn’t want to risk of being disappointed, so I kindly refused, saying that I had to work. Was it a boy, or a girl? I don’t know. May be both…

                ***
    That Latin babysitter was coming from Georgetown all the way to Alexandria. She hardly spoke any English, but somehow managed to invite me in. Looked like the owner of the house were out of town together with the children.
She poured me some wine, and then invited me to see her bedroom.
“Very nice soft bed”,- she said. I was just sitting on that bed sipping wine. She was sitting next to me on the sofa. Not that I didn’t like her, but I just didn’t want to make first move, and she was sitting there, looking at me and waiting for something. I finished my wine, and she still was sitting murmuring something in English and Spanish. All I understood that her name was Gabriela. But she was not doing anything just looking at me and at the bed. I hoped she would take me by the hand but she was definitely expecting the first move from me, but for some reason I said:
“Well, thanx for the wine” stood up and went to the door. She looked very disappointed but I was not 100% sure if she wanted to do some amore-amore. Of course, she wanted it, but I somehow didn’t read her clear messages and didn’t want to force it… So on the way back I realized my stupidity but did not u-turn and went back to work instead of having hot sex with a passionate Latin woman. Not the first time of my dumb undecidedness, nor the last.

                ***




       In my cab I sleep, listen to the radio and read. Here’s what I read in a paper:
“Windsor, Ontario, hair stylist Waddah Mustapha was awarded the equivalent of about 270.000 by a court in April after he testified that he had become racked with depression upon seeing a fly inside a commercial bottle of water at his salon. Presumably, damages would have been more if Mustapha had actually drunk from a bottle (or even opened it). As it was, he and his wife vomited and he required extensive psychotherapy for nightmares, loss of sense of humor, increased argumentativeness, lack of desire to shower regularly, and constipation.”
Smart guy! Unlike myself. I probably could have won a million by now from Radisson Hotel chain if I was that smart and savvy. Here’s what happened:
I was flying home from my “taxi-duty” in December of 1999.Snowstorms delayed a bunch of flights that day, 30-th of December, so my plane made it to New York late and I missed my connecting flight to Stockholm, so they put us in Radisson Airport Hotel , where I had to meet the New Year of 2000. Well, some circumstances are above us, so I took it as something not in my power to change - I accepted it and decided to get the best out of it: to watch a movie and relax in my room.But, first of all I had to fill my stomach, of course. So I went down to the hotel restaurant - they had a free buffet for us, unfortunate missing-their-connection flyers. Oh, I talked to a couple of air-hostesses from California, they seemed quite interested: asking where I was from, smiling sexy, asking for one, just one cigarette. I had one in my room, so I gave it to one hot Californian blonde, hoping it would lead to some adventure. I had the whole room for myself, after all! But first, I had to eat. Air-hostesses were sitting at the bar, sipping a drink, I passed by them to the restaurant, planning to join them after my dinner. Oh yeah, they were watching me! The dinner was so-so, but free and eatable. That is untill I filled my cup with coffee and took a couple of donuts from the tray. As I started biting one donut, up-close I saw something which immediately made my stomach sick: black curly hairs were baked right into the donut. Whole bunch of them! I put the donut on the table, and rushed to the bathroom. I threw up all my food I’d eaten that day, and the day before! I went back to the table. The donut was laying there, half biten, curly hairs sticking out of it! Look, I didn’t want to embarrass waitresses and hostess, I simply took my tray and not looking down on it went to the garbage-can and threw the cup with coffee, and napkins and damn donut into the garbage. The smell of vomit still stood in my mouth. I didn’t want to talk to anybody or see anybody. I didn’t want to make a scandal either. I simply let it go. I passed by the bar again, Californian air-hostesses were watching me leave…My stomach still felt sick, my eyes watery and everywhere I felt that smell of vomit. Well, I went up to my room, brushed my teeth, switched on TV…
    Breakfast time! Same buffet, same table, same coffee…same fucking donuts! I couldn’t believe my own eyes when in a chocolate donut I’ve noticed hairs. Hairs were even in the other donut I had on my table! Immediately I ran into the bathroom, threw up strongly -was throwing up may be for 10 minutes. All my breakfast umbellate and cereal had gone out in a second! And what did I do about it? Not a thing! Here is that sweet Indian-looking hostess , here are Pakistani waiters - should I get them in trouble, showing them those hairy donuts? May be they’ll get fired. For sure they would be embarrassed. It’s probably not their fault anyway…And I should be leaving for the airport in an hour-or-so… So I let it slide again! Can you believe it? As always, I started analyzing the chain of events after it’s all over - on the plane, when it was too late to do something about it. All I had to do was to call hostess, security, ambulance so they’d made a report. Donuts were right there - I should have presented one to them, and kept another one as a proof. I think there were more hairy donuts in that party. I could have called a lawyer - these guys now how to get compensations for an upset stomach. They would argue that I lost my appetite for donuts for the rest of my life after that occurrence!  I’m sure the jury would have understood and support my claim - especially after seeing that sample donut with curly black hairs. Well, I didn’t do anything about it, didn’t even report it to the hotel management - at least I would be on their VIP list for a long time. No-nothing, zero, nada! Just one more missed opportunity - the story of my life!

                ***
     More than making money it is fun to meet all kinds of people in my cab. It's like a short interactive movie - you meet them, drive them, talk to them, learn their life story, get involved -just for the ride, then -good-bye! get paid and never see the again. Well, unless they invite you for a beer or something. Like that girl Angie from Boston.
There was whole bunch of them - 3 girls and 2 guys, they were going to the Newseum in Rosslyn, across the Potomac River. Well, here I am driving them through Georgetown, they have their own conversation, I have my own thoughts. All of a sudden one girl is asking me :
“Where are you from?”
It's quite a standard question - they always ask me that. So, I told her:
“From Russia, or not exactly - from a Baltic state called Latvia, but a Russian though...”
The next standard question followed:
“How do you like it here?”
My standard answer is:
“I like it here, and I love it there. Nightlife is muuuch more fun there, in Riga and especially in Russia. Moscow is wild! Riga is fun! No last calls for alcohol, bars crowded every night till 6 in the morning...”
“Oh, are there any good bars here?”
“Yes, of course. Try OZZIO at "K" street!”
Sometimes I hung out at OZZIO, tied to pick up those trendy girls, sometimes even succeeded. So here I am, telling them all about it, driving to the Museum. That girl was mostly asking questions, the others listened. When we stopped by the entrance, that girl yelled:
“I got it! I got it!”-and jumped to the passenger seat, while the others were unloading.
“So where is that OZZIO again?”-she asked paying the fare of 14 bucks with a 6 dollar tip. I instantly got all excited:
“I can show it to you if you want...,”-I said half-jokingly.
“Will you really? Well, we are staying at the hotel, so can you give me a call later. We are staying at Embassy Suites on "N" street.”
I did not really expect it, but readily wrote down the room number. She was all right, that girl Angie! She was about 27, chestnut stylish hair, not a thinny but not a fatty either. I smelled sex. But it often does not work out the way you'd expect - so I always keep my expectations low not to get disappointed too much.
So, I went back to DC, drove around for a couple of hours and about 10.30 gave her a call from the lobby. In a few minutes she was sitting in my cab - in a night black dress and wearing nice perfume. We went to OZZIO, had a couple of Martinis each, she was looking quite lustily at me, I noticed. So it was time to go va-bank:
“Are you staying alone in your room?”-a brave question for a shy guy like myself.
“No, my friend is staying with me. She is sleeping now...,”-Angie smiled.
“Hmm, well, would you, hmmm, would like to see my place and watch " Saint" with Val Kilmer in it?”
   That was my favourite movie - I watched it tens of times!
“Sure!”-Angie replied. I really like that "Sure!" thing.
So we went to my place in Alexandria on Duke Street. I lived in a nice one-bedroom apartment, close to 395, exit 3. So I opened a bottle of cheep wine, switched on "Saint" and we sat down - drinking, talking and watching the movie.
In about half-an-hour we were holding hands, in another half I took her to my bedroom and took that nice black dress of hers. Licked her all over, put fingers in her pussy -boy, was she wet! She started sucking my dick so vigorously as she was hungry. I love those vigorous hungry American women! So I came twice, she came a few times, moaning and yelling.
I took her back to the hotel to her friends - I really like to sleep alone, you see. I mean, I like to wake up by myself.
     Angie was leaving next evening. I picked her up at her hotel, we went to watch the planes right at the parking lot by National Airport. I slipped my right hand into her panties, was she wet again! I hoped she could suck my dick under the decsennding planes, well she got so carried away with her own satisfaction, that she a kind of did not display much initiative about sucking my boy, and I did not want to pressure, although my dick was hard as a rock! She came, and I took her back to the hotel.
She invited me to Boston. We exchanged a few postcards after that, a few phone calls. We both had fun! Good enough for a cabbie. Of course, I did not make all the money I could with that distraction, but it was worth it. I can always distract for a nice piece of sex!

                * * *

       I was going on 7-th Street which had improved lately with the opening of MCI center and whole bunch of restaurants around it. One of them is  “Jaleo”, which actually was there even before MCI. That's where I picked up Dora - a visiting nurse from New York. State not the City. She flagged my cab with a couple of friends, so I thought it would be a good fare since in Washington we charge 1.50 $ extra for each additional passenger. But she gave hugs to her friends and got into the cab alone - what a disappointment! But it wasn't. She was going to Alexandria, to the hotel near King Street, so I should pick up at least 20 bucks, I thought.
“So what do you think about this Iraq situation?”-she asked, and immediately I knew she had had some wine with her dinner. I like those tipsy American women - they become much friendlier after a few drinks!
“You know, I am against the war in general”,-I went on.”Even if Saddam is a dictator, which he is, I don't think that most of the people will be happier being bombed and killed. It would be a tragedy for them and their families. It would be a tragedy for American soldiers' families...”
“Oh, I don't know what this president is thinking! The whole world hates us already! I just hope it won't come to war, but it sure looks like it”,-she said.
So we found common ground in politics - we both were against coming invasion of Iraq. Besides that Dora had an exchange student from Germany staying at her house in New York.
“Are you from Germany?”-she asked.”Shprehen zi Deutch?”
“Oh, no. Ya govoryu po-russky”,- I laughed.
“I know, I know - you said that you speak Russian! And you look like that guy from Rocky -have you seen Rocky?”
Of course, I've seen Rocky! I've seen it on the home video in the Soviet Union - it was fun to watch at that time. I appreciated that Ivan Drago displayed some human features at the end of the movie. Well, I am a human too and when Dora asked me to stop at 7-11 to pick some cigarettes and beer I sensed some adventure.
She came back from 7-11 and opened the front passenger
door - that was a good sign. So we stopped at the circle in front of the hotel's main entrance.
“Would you like some beer?”-Dora asked. Oooh, that was the question I was dreaming about.
“Sure, why not? But do you mind if we drink it in your room?”-I was bold, wasn't I ?
“Oh, we can't go to the room. I share the room with a co-worker, what would she think?”
I had to act quick not to miss the chance - I missed a lot in life, believe me!
“Do you mind if I park somewhere else, there's too many people passing by, and if they see a taxi-driver drinking beer in his cab they might not like it”.
Dora nodded agreeably so I drove off the circle and into the street trying to find a darker parking spot - it was around 11 pm. I found one in front of an apartment house,
people were passing by from time to time but for most part street looked empty.
Dora gave me a can of Coors, I put my keys on the dashboard - I know the laws! The keys must be out of the ignition, and the car turns into your private property where you can have an open container of alcohol, otherwise you'll be arrested in a second! You could be arrested for having sex in the car as well, but I wasn't sure if that was going to happen. Although I had a slight ray of hope, which strengthened after I started patting Dora's head. She didn't mind. Sipping beer from time to time I was already slightly touching her neck, she moved a little closer to me. We still kept talking about nothing, but I heard Dora moaning in between the phrases. She was turning on! And I was too. So I kissed her first on the cheek, and then straight into her lips. It turned out to be deep French kiss, only we both smelled beer not wine. I already finished my beer, and tossed my can under the car. Dora still was holding her can. With my left hand I touched Dora's breast, she passionately shaddered. Her hand went onto my leg, closer and closer to my zipper. I took her hand and placed right on my dick, she squeezed it through the pants. I unzipped and her hot hand went straight under my underwear massaging my dick. With her fingers she massaged my balls also, so my dick grew really strong and hard. But Dora also enjoyed the play - since my fingers were already in her really wet pussy. My middle finger went soo deep into her that she started moaning louder and louder. I kept kissing her and fucking with my fingers - I already sticked three fingers into that horny nurse from New York!
“Oooh, my God! Ooh, yeah, oh yea...Deeper, deeper...Oh,yes!”
She came right in time, since I saw some people passing by and looking suspiciosly at the cab - for sure they saw some movement! I smelled my fingers and sticked them into Dora's mouth - she sucked them eagerly. But what about my dick? It was burning already. Dora's head slowly went down to my dick and she started to lick and suck it like a hungry whore! Some black woman passed by our cab, I saw her looking at us in amasement, but she went on turning her head back from time to time. I was more worried about the police busting us, but we got lucky this time. And I was the luckiest when huge stream of my creamy sperm went into Dora's soft mouth - she swallowed it all, and even licked everything up - so my dick has become clean and polished as a diamond!
We lighted cigarettes.
“I never thought I would suck a cabbie's dick in DC!”- smiled my hot nurse.”My husband would never believe it for sure, I am a faithful wife for the most part, you know.”
Sure, I knew!
“Hey, once in a while we all gotta relax, so don't blame yourself...”
“Oh, I don't, believe me!”- Dora put her hand back on my dick, and started kissing me. But it was time to go. So I gave her a ride to the hotel. She kissed and kissed and kissed. The doorman was already staring at us, so I gave her last deepest French kiss, and drove back to the city. Oh, she didn't fail to pay the fare either. Beer was on her, too!
                * * *
               Sometimes it is so busy that you don’t have a minute to look through the newspaper - you’re dropping off one passenger, and three more jump in right away! But there are times when you either cruising for hours around the city, or sit at the hotel line with no success. Eventually, of course, someone will knock on your door, awakening a napping cabbie. Once I was sitting by the Mayflower hotel for an hour! It was a slow Sunday, I didn’t make enough money and was I pissy mood. Well, here I am - first in line, it’s eleven o’clock, streets are empty, so seemed to be the hotel. But not quite - a couple was coming out, and going to my cab. The woman was dressed in a black tight dress, and nice high boots - she was chunky but sexy. Her mate had a regular suit on… He opened the door:
“Would you give a ride to this lady, please?”
Oh, he was just a hotel manager, seeing off a client from the hotel bar.
“Sure!”- I said.
That lady waved bye to the manager and said to me:
“I am going to the Crown Plaza on 14-th Street.”
“Ok , ma’am.”
The car started smelling like bourbon and coke - looked loke she’d been drinking for a while. In five minutes we were by Crown plaza.
“How much do I owe you?”-she asked. That is my favourite question!
When we go to Virginia or Maryland, we calculate the fare according to mileage, so we basically say whatever we want to, the price is usually much higher than the actual mileage. There are no meters in DC cabs - inside the city we charge by zones. The whole downtown area is one zone only…Crowne Plaza was a one-zone trip. I never take advantage of drunk passengers, never rip them off and screw them up. Neither was I going to screw up that blonde, but was ready to screw her - it was a fantasy at that point, of course!
“Five-fifty, please!”-I said turning my head and looking her over. She was one sexy bitch!
She started looking for money in her purse.
“Long tiresome day?”-I asked, smiling.
“Oh, yes!”-She looked at me for a second.”Time to go to my room, have some wine and go to bed…Would you like to come in?”
I didn’t expect that brilliant question and hesitated for a second…
“Ah, you have to work…”-she said with disappointment.
“Well, not really. But let me just park my cab. What’s your room number?”-I tried to look calm but, oh boy! Was I excited already!
“804, I’ll be waiting,”-she said giving me cash. Doorman opened the door for her, and she went inside the hotel. I breathed out deeply… Well, there’s never a guarantee that something will happen, but why not to try? I found a parking spot for my cab and went straight into Crowne Plaza.
I knocked at her door and she opened it with a glass of wine in her hand. Another filled up glass was sitting at the table. I sat down comfortably on a sofa and started sipping my wine. Oh, I was ready to tear down that black dress momentarily but tried to take it easy and not rush the events - it all looked too good to be true already!
Her name was Roselynne. She came to DC on business - she had her own trade company selling ties. Nice ties, I should say - she gave me a couple!
“Are you hungry? You must be hungry! Let me call room service. What would you like?”
I looked through the menu, Roselynne called the room service and ordered a dish of salmon for me and a bottle of Chardonnay. While she was on the phone ordering I came up to her and started slightly patting her neck, gradually coming down to her shoulders and breasts. She started moaning… I stood behind her and was holding her breasts with both hands. The more I squeezed them the louder she moaned. My hands were already under her bra - big fucking tits she had, oh my! I turned her around and slightly pushed her into the arm-chair. Roselynne readily spread her legs and I saw nice fancy black panties. Besides, she was still in her high boots - and that turned me up even more. My dick tried to tear through my pants already, but I wanted to prolong the pleasure. I started sucking on her huge tits…
Somebody knocked on the door - it was the room service with my Russian salmon. Roselynne stood up and opened the door. The waiter, getting his tips, couldn’t help not to stare at that sexy bitch - oh, no, my friend, tonight I’ll take her of her!
I was eating my salmon, sipping wine, and looking at Roselynne masturbating in the arm-chair. I asked her to and she did eat with pleasure.
“You know, I am still learning English, so teach me a couple of words. Now, your finger, where you putting it? I mean, what is it in English?”
Roselynne smiled and said:
“Well, let’s see. This is called clitoris”,-she pointed at her pink wet pussy.
“Could you spread it with both your arms?”-I requested, chewing on my salmon.”How many fingers can you put into it?”
She spread her cunt and I saw a big wet hole - she inserted four fingers into it. It was a nice view - masturbating whore in high boots! So I finished my salmon, came up to her and sticked a couple of fingers into her mouth. She sucked on them eagerly.
-Hey, babe, let’s take shower together. But after we do - don’t forget to put your high boots back on. I wanna fuck you like that!
I was ready to do it right away, but that would not be as much fun. I went into the shower, Roselynne joined me in a minute. She went down on her knees right in the shower and started sucking my dick while I was playing with her soft enormous tits.
“Oh, you have a nice cock! Oh, I love your cock. Oh, let’s go to bed, come on now!”
I was about to come, but it was too early. When I come quickly, I lose interest quickly - and I wanted to have fun! Especially, after such a boring and unproductive day. So we went to bed. Roselynne put her black high boots on.
     Boy, did I fuck her! She was a real slut! Originally she was from Texas, but now lived in Atlanta. I saw a nice Texan cowgirl hat and put it on her head. She lied all naked except high boots and that hat. I inserted two then three then four fingers in her huge wet pussu and started twisting my wrist. She moaned and cried like crazy. I sat down on her face - she eagerly licked me all over: from as whole to balls. I came all over her face , finished my wine and went to sleep. She awaked me a couple of hours later… Not me exactly but my happy fellow - she was licking and kissing it softly. So in a few minutes she was sitting on it, but she was a little heavy for me so I turned her over and jumped on top of her working her like a sex machine! This time I came all over her belly.
It was 7 am already, and I had to move my illustrious cab from a metered parking spot.
Roselynne called me the same evening.
“Alex! Can you come over and fuck me?”-she had some wine already. So I came. She changed the hotel already - she moved to Hilton Gardens just a few blocks away. During our crazy sex games the phone kept ringing from time to time but Roselynne didn’t want to lick it up. I just came into Roselynne’s mouth when we heard the knock on the door.
“Could you see what’s going on?”- she mumbled wiping her lips off my creamy sperm.
So I went to the door.
“Yes?”
“Excuse me, I am a front desk manager”,-I heard after a short pause.” Mrs. Wagner’s husband is trying to get a hold of her. Could you, please, tell her to give him a call?”
“Sure”, I said. Roselynne heard the message herself. She picked up the phone and called her husband. While she was talking with him on the phone I was slightly massaging her clitoris with my middle finger, so by the end of her conversation she jumped all over my poor body like a tigress… I love married women - they do know what they want!
The very same day she moved to Hilton Embassy Row on Massachasuts Avenue. She got herself a nice suite - I felt like a king! After some wine and a room service dinner we jumped on each other like maniacs…There was a bottle of nice Champaign - I sticked its neck quite a deep into her vagina a few times:
“Ohh, nobody ever fucked me with a bottle!”-she moaned and cried…
My cab was sitting at the taxi stand all night long , I put “ON CALL” sign so I could sleep a little later without worrying about being towed.
She called me again in the evening. But it was Friday and on Saturdays I usually pay my rent for the cab. So I told her that I needed to work that night.
“Oh, please, I need you tonight, Alex. Well, I’ll pay for your time how about that?”
That actually sounded good. So after some wild sex she was about to fall asleep but I remembered her promise.
“Hey, Roselynne, you were saying something about helping me out tonight…Remember?”
“Oh, yeah! You’re talking about money? I never paid for sex in my entire life…”
“And who’s talking about paying for sex? No, baby! It’s just that I have to pay my rent tomorrow and I haven’t made any money tonight.”
“Sure, you haven’t. You’ve got busy with me! Of, course, Alex, I remember what I said…”
She pulled out her check book.
“How much do you think you’ve lost? Hundred?”
“Well, I can’t name you the price for that… But hundred is ok, I guess.”
She signed the check. On the line in the bottom left corner she wrote: ”For services rendered ”. What a bitch! But that was a funny ending of our short fling. Now it was time to get back to my real girl-friend and babe - my taxi!
    She was back in town for business after that a few times, she called me, but I decided that I had enough of fun with her and said that I was busy or tired and didn’t see her – I am just not into repeat customers too much but always ready for some new adventures.

                * * *

     Most of the night-life action in Washington is concentrated in a few spots: Adams Morgan, Georgetown, Connecticut and M Street corner. That’s where most of the clubs are located, that’s where every night I pick up drunk Washingtonians and bring them home or to another bar. They tip better at night, they are more fun to talk to and to watch. Many many couples make love in my cab – I let them enjoy the ride, it does not excite me that much, I just want them to have fun… and each other.
This couple jumped into my cab on M street, right in front of Sign of the Whale, a famous meet market. They were going to Bethesda, that’s a long ride and I hate long rides but I took them anyway. So they started making out right when we started moving.
“What about your boyfriend? Is he home?” –the guy asked while kissing the girl, one sexy blonde vixen.
“Oh no!”-she moaned.”He is coming back tomorrow, we have the whole night for ourselves…”
They couldn’t wait until getting home though and I heard the zipper sound and saw her putting her head down on his knees… But I really don’t like to watch whatever is going on the back seat, I just need to get my passengers home safe and sound. So the guy was fingering that blonde while she was giving him a blowjob. Looked like they both came at the same time even before we arrived to Bethesda, the guy gave me a nice tip, shook my hand and said:
“Thank you for understanding!”
“Sure!”-I said. I wonder what her boy-friend would feel, but it’s really none of my business, I am just a driver, and I want people to enjoy life while it lasts the way they deem good for them.

                ***
     That pretty black woman was going from the Union Station to South-West part of DC. Well, South-West used to be quite rough area of town, but since they built a new baseball stadium there it improved and I felt safe taking her there. She told me she was going to the sado-mazo club and asked if I would join her. Join her? I am open for all kinds of adventures, but I really wanted to work and make some money that night so I kindly rejected the offer.
      But I got interested in that place and wanted to see what kind of people go there so at about 1 AM I was right there, on Half-street, waiting for the fares.
It appeared to be not just a sado-mazo club but a mix of swingers and mazohists enjoying the fun together under one roof. My first fare was two couples going to a near-by Best Western hotel, one girl sat next to me, and she was showing her tits and spreading the legs all the way to the hotel. She did not have any underwear. But the guys didn’t mind – they were busy touching and kissing the girl on the back seat. So my front-seat passenger unzipped my pants and started sucking my cock while I was driving, once I had to break suddenly, so she slightly hit her head against the steering-wheel.
“Be careful, honey”,-she said and continued to please me, her companions just laughed. So it didn’t take me long to come into her beautiful full-lips mouth, she swallowed, smiled and asked:
“Do we get a free ride now?”
“Hmm”,-I said…
“Oh no, Michelle, the guy needs to make money!”-her husband yelled from the back seat. ”Don’t worry, we’re gonna hook you up!” As if they haven’t yet! So they paid generously and went to the hotel for more playful games, but I went back to the club, took a few more swingers home and to the hotels. They all were fun people, and the girls were showing me their crutches all the way, the husbands didn’t mind.
     But my last fare that night  from that club was a woman with glasses in a long leather coat and high boots with a heavy suitcase - I know it was heavy ‘cause I put it into the trunk myself.
     So we talked all the way to Rockville. She said I could call her Eva but it wasn’t her real name, of course. Well, I didn’t care about the name but I was curious about her activities so we had a cool frank conversation all the way to her home. She told its all about power, but you have to use it the right way –it is the whole form of art to give pain, you see! Eva was very good at it too, since she was actually teaching other people how to use all kinds of instruments in the dungeon. That was the first time when I heard that word “dungeon”. Eva used to have a Russian boy-friend before, but he treated her like shit, so after their break-up she punishes her boy-slaves with all the energy she has left for her Russian ex-lover.
-I am terrified only by one thing,-she said.-If my pupils will ever come to this club and recognize me…I’ll be fired for sure!
She was a school teacher, I only imagine how her pupils felt answering their home-work to such a strict teacher. It’s good she hadn’t the power to whip and torture them!
When we pulled up to her house she asked to get into the driveway:
“I don’t want my neighbors to see me in this outfit”,-she said. So I took her heavy suitcase out.
“Would you like to come in and try some of these toys?”-she asked.
“Will you let me use them on you?”-I asked.
“No, I’ll be punishing you for being a naughty driver, for being asshole, for my Russian ex-boy-friend…”-she got more and more excited with every new phrase she uttered.
“Wow, Eva!”-I said.” How about we’ll do it some other time?”
I am really open for a lot of new and interesting stuff but I didn’t feel like being spanked by an overzealous teacher that night.
So I left, and never made it back. Still thinking about it…



***

     A slightly chubby red-haired girl flagged me in Georgetown on “M” Street in front of “Old Glory”. She was with a bunch of guys, they were about to jump into the cab, but she shut the door and yelled:
“I am going home by myself! Have fun, you horny bastards! Can you take me to Virginia? These guys were all over me, I don’t like it when they’re all over me… Oh, where are you from? You don’t look like a typical DC driver. Hmm, do you know if any bars are still open? I’d like to have a beer. Can you have a beer with me?”
“ All the bars are closed already… But I have some beer at my place,” - I said. I lied. I only had wine, but it didn’t matter, cause I was just testing her…You’ll never know without testing what’s on their mind! And it was the right thing on her mind!
“Well, I can go with you, but do you promise it will be safe?”
“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, trust me! We’ll just have some beer, and then I’ll give ride to Virginia.”
“Ok”,-she said.
     So we went to my place. Her name was Clarissa. I opened “White Zinfandel”, she didn’t care for the beer at that point. We clinked and toasted “Na Zdorovye!”, she was moving closer and closer to me on my sofa, then we started hugging, and went down to the floor. I love fucking on the floor! She just asked me not to come inside.
“How about I come into your mouth?”-I asked.
“Mmmm, that would be wonderful!”-she moaned. So I did fucked her in the mouth, while fingering her wet hairy cunt. She came twice, I was satisfied with one big coming straight into her mouth - she swallowed, and then chases it with wine!
I gave her a ride all the way to Springfield, Virginia, where her car was parked. She sucked my dick one time in her SUV, and invited me to her house, but I was tired already, and wanted to go home.
“You promise you will call me?”-she whispered.
“ Sure I will, babe!”
Oh, is it a nice feeling driving back to DC on 95-North at 5 o‘clock in the morning, with fresh wind coming through open windows, and totally satisfied!

                ***
       Yvonne flagged my cab in Georgetown on a Sunday afternoon. She asked to take her to Israeli Embassy and then back - make a little tour around the city. She was Jewish by origin, in her late thirties but looking very very attractive. She was talking on the phone with somebody:
“Oh, I am in the taxi right now… We are going along the Massachusetts Avenue -that is where all the embassies are… Oh, he is sooo cute! I’ll try - we’ll see…”
I drove her along the Mass Avenue, then onto Vanness street - around the Israeli Embassy. She was in raptures over the beauty of Washington architecture. Yvonne told me she was from Vancouver, on a business trip to DC. She owned her own business consulting. I had a feeling she was more than just a friendly passenger - so I gave it a shot:
“Would you like to see a really good view of Washington? If you don’t mind we could go to my place - you even can see the Capitol from there, it is a very nice view…”
Wow, she agreed on spot! So I took her to River Place complex - technically it is situated in Rosslyn, Virginia, right across the Key Bridge, next to Ivo Jima Memorial. I stayed with my friend Sasha but he was at work at the Palm restaurant, so I knew I had some time to see what Yvonne was up to.The view from the 4-th floor was really magnificent: the Potomac, the mall, the Capitol… So we came up and were enjoying the view from the balcony - I poured some “Starka” for myself and Ivonne.
“Starka” is an old brand of flavored Russian vodka. First I heard about it in the movie “Company Business” where Alexander Barishnikov was offering it to Gene Heckmann. I found it in Riga, tried it, figured it was my favourite kind of vodka and I brought a few bottles to the US. Yvonne liked it too, besides it made her a little tipsy so she was coming closer and closer to me, until finally we hugged each other and started kissing right there on the balcony.
“Can I take you the bedroom?”-I asked.
“You can do with me whatever you want to do,”-Yvonne whispered, and we went to the bedroom and had sex right on Sasha’s bed. She was all right - nothing unusual but good old classic sex.
     I took her to her hotel Georgetown - Georgetown Suites on 29-th street, parked my cab, and went up to her room. Gosh, the room was nice - it was a suite with kitchen in it, and a box of Labbat’s was sitting right by the refrigerator. We had a few beers and then went to bed, again -classic sex, only this time after I made her come she started sucking my dick and I unloaded straight into her mouth. By the way, she was talking about me on the phone once she got into the cab- she was telling to her daughter how cute a taxi-driver was! I don’t consider myself too handsome, but some women did find me attractive, so when they desired I usually did not reject them, oh no! Yvonne was divorsed, and the next morning she started talking about taking me to Canada with her. Look, I like flings, but living together is a totally different matter, I knew it so I kind of passed on that.
     We spent one more night together and in the morning I gave her a ride to the airport. She once again asked me if I would join her in Vancouver… We exchanged a few nice e-mails and have good memories about each other. At least I do about her…
               
                ***
     I was going to take a lunch break, I happened to be in Alexandria, Virginia. Then I saw some pretty African-American young lady flagging my cab. We are not supposed to pick up fares in Virginia - it’s a 500 $ fine! But we do it anyway sometimes, especially on Friday nights! Well, it wasn’t a Friday night, so I passed by her without stopping. Looking back in my rear-view mirror I saw the expression on her face - full of sadness and disappointment. Boy, she had that sad and sexy look! I made a u-turn and picked her up…
     Her name was Marie. She was originally from Cameroon, but spent a lot of time in Holland. She was not skinny at all, but her little tasty chubbiness was turning me on the very first minute she got into my cab. Her face was sweet and innocent, and her beautiful brown eyes had so much deep thoughtfulness in them that it made me feeling romantic. So I dared to ask for her phone number when I was dropping her off. She gave it to me and in a couple of days I gave her a call.
I was brazen enough to invite her straight into my place. She agreed with some degree of hesitation, but I assured her that I am not a maniac and she would be safe and sound at my place. And indeed she was! We watched my favorite movie “The Saint” with Val Kilmer, where most of the action is happening in Russia, we drank some White Zinfandel, but I did not make any passes on her. We were talking about her life in Cameroon and Holland, where she had been studying. She was intelligent and educated on top of her beauty. So I gave her a ride back to her place, and as we parted in the car gave her a hug and a kiss… Then something I wasn’t expecting happened. She gave me the deepest French kiss, so we started making up in the car - my hand went to her boobs, my lips were wrapped up in hers, our tongues were deep into each other’s mothes… My dick w became as hard as a stick. But we were by the entrance to her apartment and people were passing by. I wanted to prolong my excitement and entertain my fantasies a little bit longer.
“Marie,”-I said.”Would you like to join me for a drink some time this week?”
“Oh, oui!”-she said emphatically. I liked that French touch to it too.
So in a couple of days I picked her up, and took her straight to my place. I gave her bouquet of roses, we drank some wine. Not for a long time though. In a few minutes she was already French-kissing me, and my hands were under her bra. Her boobs were fantastic! Huge! Tasty! I sucked them like an ice-cream. She unzipped my pants and went straight for my dick. Tenderly and softly she was licking my balls. I was about to come but wanted to prolong the pleasure - so went into my bedroom and I fucked the shit out of her! After she came twice I became lazy and let her lick my whole body and suck my cock. I came into her mouth and she swallowed it till the very last drop.
“Mmmm, it tastes like a chicken soup!”-she said…
Then I licked her too. Her skin was silky and smooth - she a kind reminded me of Russian girl, only black-skinned. I called her Masha from time to time - that turned her on like a nymphomaniac!
     So we met a few more times after that, every time sex was crazy and fantastic! She once was sucking my dick in my taxi at the Mall during the Cherry Blossom, there was a lot af traffic and a lot of cops on motorcycles all around, so I didn’t finish. But then at home I came with a full load straight into her swallowing throat!
She gave me an African sculpture as a gift, but I didn’t accept it since I was going to Russia and didn’t have place to put it. Every time I see an African sculpture it reminds me of a beautiful African queen by the name Marie!
It was 4 AM on a Friday night and I was on the way home going on Columbia Road through the Adams Morgan District , where a lot of bars are located. The street was almost empty, but I saw four people in front of Havana Village flagging my cab. Two Latin guys and women were about to get inside when the women started pushing the guys away:
“No, no, no !” –they were saying to them.”Buenas noches, buenas noches!”
So the guys were left on the sidewalk while two drunk Latin chicks in their thirties were on the way home in my cab talking passionately in Spanish.
All of a sudden one of them started speaking in English, quite broken English too, but I understood everything, of course.
“Oh, you work late! Ay-ay-ay! Are you tired? Oh, linda, linda! You know, we are from El Salvador, si, senior, and you? Are you American? Russo? Oh, really? Oh that is so unusual…”
She kept talking and talking while the other one sometimes was saying something in Spanish. I was nodding trying to keep up the conversation using all my Spanish vocabulary:
“Si, si! Bien, bien! Amore, amore!”
When we stopped by a row-house on Irving Street, that talkative lady suddenly said:
“Hey, senior, we have a nice bottle of wine, do you want to come in and drink some with us?”
She didn’t have to ask twice, so I parked my cab and went into the house. They really had some cheap wine, so I opened the bottle and poured the wine into three glasses, yelling :
“Chin-chin!”
“A sante!” –they yelled back, so we drank and hugged.
That talkative lady was quite ugly, the other one was OK – nice face, a slightly chubby figure and huge breasts. But that first one was poised to get me that night. She sat next to me on the sofa, started touching my hand, then straightforwardly suggested to go to a hotel.
“What hotel?”-I asked. I didn’t see any reason to go to any stupid hotel since we were in the house already, besides I didn’t want to deal with that aggressive woman, she simply turned me off. And, like I said, she wasn’t pretty at all.
“Oh, I stay at a five-star hotel, can you give me a ride, please?”- she was murmuring.
“I am a kind of tired right now,”-I said. “Let’s finish the wine first!”
That seniorita looked disappointed, but I didn’t care.
“Do you like Spanish music?”-she asked. “Let’s go and listen to some salsa and merenge!”
We all went to the bedroom, they turned on the karaoke and started singing and even dancing. I was just sitting on the bed looking at them and sipping wine. Then the pretty one went out of the room and the ugly one sat right next to me again and sadly said:
“She thinks there is something going on between you and me…”
“What do you mean?”-I played stupid.
‘Well, you know…”- she started touching my leg.
“Wait a minute,”-I said.”Let me get more wine.”
So I walked out and didn’t forget to shut the door. The pretty seniorita was sitting on the sofa, sipping wine. So I didn’t want to waste time any more and sat right next to her, touched her hair and kissed her on the cheek first and then all the way into her lips, since she leaned forward towards me and French kissed me in a moment. So my hand went under her blouse and purple bra – she really had big soft breasts, so I sucked and licked them shamelessly, and unzipped her jeans sticking my fingers into her wet hot pussy. I put three fingers in, she moaned then stood up, so I stood up with her and continued kissing and fingering her while standing. She was sooo wet! So I sticked four fingers inside her, twisting them vigorously, at the same time I put her hand on my zipper, and she unzipped my pants and started massaging my dick.
“Do you have a condom?”- she asked. No, I didn’t, besides I was to lazy to fuck her, and didn’t want her girl-friend to come out of the room. All I wanted was to release my sperm into her mouse, and I did! It was a little unusual for me, since we both were standing and she just leaned down to my dick and started to suck it still standing. So I was fucking a standing seniorita in her mouth, once she grabbed my balls I released a liter or two of my white sticky sperm, she swallowed all of it and licked my dick all around. I was ready to go. Her friend was still in the room, but I didn’t feel like saying good-bye to her at all…
“Gracias!”-I said.”Buenas noches.”
“Chao,”-my pretty seniorita said, pulling her pants back up. Simple and sweet. She saw me all the way to the door, French-kissed me and I went home relieved and relaxed, no strings attached as usual. The sun was already rising and I was going home to bed – it is such a pleasure to sleep in the morning, especially after a hard night at work and quick passionate sex !
                ***
         From time to time I am sitting in front of Camelot – one of just a few strip-joints in DC. I don't see what kind of fun people have at DC strip-clubs since there's no lap-dancing allowed in DC, so most of the folks are coming out  pretty exited and often ask for a massage-parlor. I know a couple so I take them there for happy-ending.
            One night I was sitting there and the manager came out and asked me to take one of the girls home. “ I know you'll take good care of her” -he said seriously. Sure I did! She was fine - brown hair, short skirt, pretty face. Leslie was her name.
I drove her all the way to Marylamd. On the way whe jumped into the front seat - that is always a good sign! She asked this and that stupid questions, told me a few times how sexy Russian men are, and eventually invited me in her townhouse for a beer or so. After such a long 40-minute ride I needed a break - so, yeah, why not? I knew she was up to something - when women invite you in they are almost always up to something.  Leslie said her boy-friend was away...Oh-oh, I didn't like that at all - never have a desire to deal with jealous boy-friends plus I have a sense of man's solidarity. But if a woman insists it is hard to refuse. I was going for a beer after all.
But as soon as I started drinking nice cold Sam Adams Leslie was moving  closer and closer eventually rubbing her big boobs against my chest. She switched on music - a kind they play at strip-joints, loud and energetic, and started dancing. So I put the bottle an the table and sterted licking those huge nipples of hers. She went down for my penis - it didn't take long before it became very very hard. Leslie turned around and I screwed her standing against the table - no condoms used. One should always use condoms but sometimes I think with only my small head not a big one.
So I came on her back, fingered her a little bit to make her come and went on to finish the beer. She gave me fare money - 90 bucks with the tip. The trip was worth it!
***
     Royal Palace is considered to be a low-class strip-joint - some culprits go there and girls are usually not too pretty. Some are OK though.... I was passing RP at 2 AM right and a bunch of drunk dudes were flagging a cab. I almost stopped but noticed a very sexy blond girl flagging  a little further and went right pass the wearing and cursing dudes.
She was going to Wheaton. Long way but considering a nice company I didn't mind. She was a stripper named Amy. I was a cabbie named Oleg. We both had rough day at work. Both were thirsty and tired. So I said:" I would happily have a glass of wine somewhere - too bad bars in this town close so early."
"Oh, I have wine at my house, if you care for one" Of course, I cared !
Twas a nice single-family house with a large kitchen. So she opened the bottle of White Zinfandel - cheap but nice wine, and poured it into big crystal wine glasses. We sat down on the coach, and watched some hockey. She was a fan of Capitals, so was I. Well, I didn't want to waste too much time  and simply kissed  her lips artfully using my tongue. "You are fast"-Amy laughed."You're wild!"I'm sure she's seen much wilder in her club! So I fingerd her, she was very wet, and since her vagina was well-shaven decided to have some desert and licked that cherry while fingering it. She came quite a few times. "Oh, you're such a great licker!"-she yelled and moaned. Sometimes I really am. She had a smilingCool Aid tatto on her leg next to her pussy - that was a kind of funny, that tatto face was smiling all the way as if he wanted to join in licking!
       I did't wannt to stick my pen into her ink, thas time I thought of condoms,but didn't even ask. Just stood up I deep throated Amy while she was sitting on her coach. I was holding the glass at the same time and poured some wine over my penis so she could enjoy both.  That mouth-fucking didn't take too long before I came and she swallowed.
The good thing she paid her fare upfront otherwise I could have forgotten about it! We  parted in good spirit, and she gave me a sweet-smelling garter as a gift. Souvenir I should say.
                ***
     Capitol Hill is an area where only a few years ago cabbies did not even want to go. Nowadays it is one of the most expensive areas of DC - full of fancy townhouses, soccer moms and gays walking their doggies around Lincoln Park.  8-th street became a hidden jewel of Capitol Hill - looks like an oasis, well lit and full of restaurants and bars. One of them is called “Phase”- it is a lesbian gathering. A nice looking gal flagged right in fromt of it and told me she was going up Connecticut Avenue. She had a short-curly hairdo - a kind of reminded me of Kim Wilde. I was in the mood for talking so wasn’t shy to start up a conversation.
“What kind of place is this bar?” - I dared to ask her.
“Well, it is for lesbian women, didn’t you know it?”
“I had an idea, but wasn’t sure. Are you a lesbian? I am sorry for asking but I am just curious - do all lesbians dislike men?”
“Some do,”-she smiled.”But some like both.”
“Hmm, and what about you?”
“Oh, no, I’m not a dyke. I like both men and women. Only I prefer women - they really know how to make other women happy…”
“So you are a bisexual?”
“You got it.”
She didn’t seem to be embarrassed at all by my questions. It was a good sign, so I decided to pursue my exploration.
What are other popular places for bi-girls in DC?
“You are a cab-driver, you should know! Have you heard of “Apex”? It is a popular spot on Thursdays as well…”
Boy, it was Thursday! Believe or not but I suggested to take her there and wanted to get in and check it out myself just out of curiosity.
“Sure, let’s go,”-she smiled again. Carol, that was her name, was up to something, just like me. Of course, I didn’t think anything would come out of it, but it never hurts to try. So we did get into ”Apex”, full of gays and lesbos. It was a weird feeling for me, but soon I realized that I was not the only straight guy there - quite a few more came there for an excitement. But I came with a real bi-girl, so I had a little advantage and a piece of hope for a new sexploring. We danced a little bit, talked to other participants of that gay fair, Carol talked to some girls, guys didn’t talk to me - they could see that I wasn’t interested.
It was time to go home - so I took Carol to her apartment on Connecticut Avenue, a few beers made her quite drunk.
We went up together, and without further delay we both undressed and went straight to bed. I licked her pussy - she really liked it, telling me that I was doing it like a girl who knew what a girl wants. The secret is to slightly touch woman’s clitoris, and the rest comes along - and Carol had a nice sticky clit and her lips were wet as a spounge. After she had come, I fucked her a little bit, then put my cock into her mouth and came right in. Some cum she swallowed, some was dripping onto her chin and breast, but she was too tired to go washing and was falling asleep. I felt like sleeping alone in my place, I kissed her on the chick, smelling like my sperm, and said “good-night”.
She called me next day inviting to some bi-gay-lesbian gathering at some bar, but I was a kind of tired and didn’t subscribe for it. I am always looking forward to meet somebody new in my cab, and try to seduce or be seduced, and Carol was already nice and pleasant episode in my taxi-affairs history. I don’t like to keep relationship for too long, it’s always good idea to break up without tying down before it is too late. Unless you really fall in love, and that is my everlasting problem. Commitement is just not my thing, affairs for me are a kind of like a cab ride: we both enjoy the ride, I get the fare collected, and then we part, most probably, for the rest of times.

                * * *
     I picked up a fare on 2400, Wisconsin Avenue, in front of Heritage restaurant. It is an Indian restaurant, but that is where Ukranian DJ Vinnie sometimes spins kick-off Russian music. I didn’t go because had been quite lazy lately and decided to make some money that Friday night. It was a girl with ash-white dyed hair from Ukraine- Svetlana. She got into the front seat, we started talking about this and that, I switched on some good old Russian music. I took her along Connecticut Avenue Connecticut Avenue to Kensington. All of a sudden she started kissing me while I was driving - East-European girls are impulsive, you know! So we stopped two blocks from her house - she was living with an American husband. Well, I couldn’t help it but to french-kiss her too, sticking my fingers into her panties feeling that wet shaved pussy.
“I have to go- my husband is at home! Oh, I have to go!”-she moaned unzipping my pants.
      She put her head onto my knees. I took out my Peter - it’s become quite sturdy already. I came quickly- may be in half-a-minute, she sucked it with care and tenderness, all my milk went into strait her mouth. I felt relieved, but I wanted to make her feel good, so vigorously I started fingering her, she moaned and kissed me like crazy…That is until we both heard:
“Svetlana, what are you doing, let’s go home…”
It was her husband! The windows were down, so didn’t have to knock or anything, just said it and moved to the house.
“What are you going to do?”-I said in shock in disbelief.
“I’ll see. It’ll be ok. Thanx, good-bye,”- she said and followed her husband to the house. I don’t know what happened there, and I don’t want to know. I know I felt terrible! I stayed a minute, and then went back to the city, telling that story to a couple of passengers, making a point that everything hidden will become obvious sooner or later. The thought were coming to into my head that my way of life is not exactly the righteous one, and that eventually I’ll have to pay for everything that I’ve done wrong… But the fares were plentiful, and I kind of brushed sad thoughts aside…

                * * *
       I saw a woman in black leather jacket, standing on the corner of 17-th Street and Rhode Island. She looked lost. It was 9 in the evening, but dark already since it was December. So I stopped by and rolled down the window.
“What are you looking for?”- I asked.
“Oh, Courtyard Marriott, it should be around here…”
“Yes, it is. Just a couple of blocks up the street… You know what, let me just give you a ride there. For free. It’s not a problem for me, just jump into the cab!”
She hesitated for a second, and then got into the taxi. Her name was Suzan, and she was from Los Angeles on a business trip. So I took her to the Marriott.
“How much do I owe you?”- she asked.
“Nothing…But if you’d like to have drink with me, I could take a break.”
“Well, I am a kind of tired right now, but if you leave me your phone number I might call you one of these days.”
     She called me next night, inviting to join her for a drink at the Mayflower hotel. So I parked my cab, and went into hotel. Suzan was sitting at the bar with a lady in a business outfit - white blouse and grey skirt, and a gentleman in a business suit. They did not know each other before, just met here at the bar. So I ordered myself a black Russian, and joined their conversation about war, peace, life, work, political situation… I listen a lot to AM radio talk-shows, so I can carry-out any conversation on different subjects including politics. They looked surprised that I was just a cabbie, but I never cover this fact - if they like me, they should like for what I am, if they don’t - I don’t care!
     Gentleman went up to his room, lady was going to take a metro home to Rockville, so me and Suzan went to see her off to the Farragut north metro station. It was past 12 already - the station was closed and that lady, Lisa was her name, Lisa was wasted. She was going to take a cab now.
“I’ll take you home,”- I said.”I am a taxi driver, remember?”
“That’s right!”-Suzan said. ”Would you take her home, and I’ll just walk to my hotel?”
“Of course, I’ll take her home, but first we’ll drop you off at your place.”
    So we dropped Suzan off, and went onto Rockville. Lisa was sitting on the back seat at first, talking to me about this-and-that, hanging over the passenger’s seat. So, I offered her to move to the front passenger seat, and she did just that. This way, I could talk to her, looking at her from time to time, not through the rear-view mirror. She was a business-lady! Actually, she was in charge of some construction activities all over the world - mostly in devastated Iraq and Afghanistan. Big contract bucks! She was around forty-five - mature blonde with expensive rings and ear-rings smelling nice French perfume. Ooh, I got a little bit excited but did not expect her to invite me to her brand-new townhouse to listen to Pavarotti. Boy, did she love Pavarotti! I was sitting on a nice white leather sofa in the guest-room, looking at the shimmering Christmas-tree and listening to the opera. Lisa went to the kitchen and fixed us a couple of quite strong screwdrivers - that was a good sign! She had a grown-up son, but he was away in Baltimore. She also had a boy-friend, with whom she enjoyed concerts at the Kennedy-center, but he was away too. She was sitting next to me, moving closer and close, until she got so close that I couldn’t help but put my hand around her waist. She leaned towards me, and strted vigorously kissing my lips. Did I object? Oh, no! Not at all. In a minute we went down to the floor and I was slowly undressing her.
     It was quite a nice fuck on the floor with a strong and beautiful Pavarotti’s voice as a musical background! She did suck my dick too - I just relaxed on the floor, putting my hands under my head and sometimes patting her blonde, probably dyed, hair. I came on her stomach and rubbed the cum all the way up to the tits. Lisa’s nipples were perky and strong - looked like she was ready for another one. She took my hand and lead upstairs into her bedroom. Huge king size bed and silk bedding impressed me all right. So we laid down for a while touching and stimulating each other… She was plaing with my balls, then squeezing them, then licking. I put three of my fingers first into her pussy then into her mouse
“You’re tasting yourself now, babe!”-I whispered to her. She was sucking up my fingers like lully-pops.
“Do you have a vibrator?”-I asked. She did, but she was too tired to open her closet, so stood up, and opened it. She had a set of vibrators, I was about to throw them on her bed, but changed my mind and decided just simply to screw her. So we fucked vigorously for another fifteen minutes until she came first, and then - me. I like to keep women satisfied, that’s true, that makes me feel better!
I looked at the clock - it was about three AM, and I did not want to meet her son in the morning. Neither did I feel like meeting her boy-friend.
“Aren’t you going to stay all night with me?”- Lisa moaned.
“I gotta go, babe. I have to work early tomorrow - have to pay my cab-rent. By the way, could you cover your fare -I’ll give you a receipt if you need one. I’m sure your company pays all your business-expenses!”- I grinned.
“Sure, just give me a second.”
     She gave me sixty dollars in cash, I gave her a blank taxi receipt. She saw me off to the door. I called Lisa at work the very next day but she was a no-show. Not surprising after such a rough night! So decided not to call bother her again - one night-stands are the best things to remember, after all!

                ***

      I was passing “The Russia House” - that stylish lounge full of vodka, Russian music and American yuppies, when a girl and guy went out of there. It was a little bit past the last call time, so I thought it would me my last fare for the night. And indeed it was! Only the guy didn’t get into the cab, but the young lady did. She gave a hug and a kiss to the guy and exchanged phone numbers with him. She was in her thirties, with blond died hair, looking fit and sexy in her black tight dress with a laptop over her shoulder.
      She was quite drunk too. I try not to take advantage of drunk women – what if in the morning she would not remember anything, or changes her mind, or get offended by something? Then she could easily accuse a poor cabbie of rape – how will you prove otherwise? And even if police pulls up in the middle of some sexual encounter in a taxi-cab they would immediately arrest you and accuse of taking advantage of a drunk passenger, even if she would deny it… So, it’s all a risky business. Risky but fun!
Well, that girl was going to Georgetown Mall garage, and when we pulled by the entrance she asked me to wait a little bit while she would make some phone calls, I presume she was calling her new-found acquaintance from “The Russia House” but the guy didn’t answer.
“Why are the men like that?”- she moaned, and went on talking how it is hard to find a real man in America nowadays. I was just listening to her lecture, trying from time to time to defend American men and men in general, whe she suddenly asked me to take her to some nice and quiet place. Tese kind of requests ususlly lead to risky business, but I did’t intend to touch her unless she touches me first, and if not – hell with it ! So I drove down the street to the Georgetown boat station, close to the river.
Her name was Renee. She was a real-estate agent and a fitness instructor from Fredericksburgh, Virginia. She kept on talking about men in her life, then opened the door and asked me not to watch her peeing . Of course, I was not watching, I’m not into that, but I was worried that police would come any moment, and there’s lots of patrol police cars in Georgetown! She peed right next to my car, I heard that distinctive water-noise, and instead of coming back to her passenger seat she jumped in into the seat next to me. I knew something would happen by that time, but I was watching for police cars and didn’t make any moves until she put her hand right between ny legs and atarted to unzip my pants. I just helped her with my belt. And then she went down and started licking my balls vigorously at the same time playing with my penis with her hands.
“ Can we please go on the back seat?” she pleaded. How could I refuse a sexy horny lady? We moved to the back seat. It was about 3 in the morning, I was always on the look out for police...
So, on the back seat she was going on playing with my dick never putting him into her mouth though. When I sticked my fingers under her black lingerie I felt something there…
“ I’m on a  period” – she said, ”But you can fuck me if you want, do you have a condom?”
I didn’t , by the way, so she put her head on my knees and kept playing with my dick, licking it all around but never putting him deep into her mouth. So I put my fingers into her mouth, and boy was she sucking on them! While she was doing that I rubbed my dick all over her face, her hair , her ears, everywhere but inside her mouth. Eventually I came all over her head, while she was still sucking on my fingers…
“Can I lay down for a little bit?” she asked. I didn’t mind, but if police would come and see a taxi-driver on a back seat with some girl sleeping on his lap they wouldn’t appreciate it, I’m sure. I really wanted to get out of there! So she took a nap on my lap, while I was on a look out. I can’t believe it but no police car even passed by that night !
      My lucky night, I supposed. In about an hour she woke up, and I was slightly horny already, and did the same thing – sticked my fingers into her hungry mouth, and fucked her all over head, she was sucking all over but never put it in her mouth… That puzzled me a little bit.
      Well, I came for the second time almost in her right ear and all over, and didn’t want to try my luck with the police any more. It was about 5 AM and some cars were pulling up to the boat station already. So I took Renee back to the Georgetown Mall. But out of curiosity I asked her why did she never put my dick into her mouth.
“I’m afraid of a disease”- she said,” If  you had a condom I was ready to do anything for you!”
That was cool! I myself prefer safe sex, and blowjobs without condoms don’t make it much safer, I heard.
So I saw Renee to her car, in the elevator I turned her around, tenderely pulled her to the wall, pulled up her skirt and rubbed against her ass. Oooh, I like those business-ladies! We mixed up the floor the first time , so on the way to another floor I did the same thing  in addition slapping her ass through her black stockings a couple of times…
“Oh, oh”-she moaned…But the elevator stopped, she went to her car, and I never saw her again. Luckily.
See, we both had fun, and the best thing is to remember it as fun without further complications…

***
      The prostitutes in Washington DC look so horrible that you really want to run and hide from them. I am not talking g about escort call-girls, some of them might be ok, but those street-girls are plain ugly. And they dress really funny: tacky mini-skirts and dresses open up almost to the crotch, high boots, fancy shitty purses –  as if they wanna be visible both to the clients and cops. And taxi-drivers too. They know cabbies always have some cash on them , enough for blowjobs for sure. Sometimes they come up to you at the light and ask for a short ride , warning that they don’t have any money.
     Those street-walkers usually hang out at15-th and  K and L streets, although police harass and arrest them from time to time, so some of them move around K and 4-th street, close to a black strip-joint called Louie’s Rogue Club. I never seeen a white person going to that club. White businessmen usually go to Camelot and Archibald’s, sometimes to Good Guys on Wisconsin Avenue, but what kind of fun can they have there except looking at naked bitches without the opportunity to touch any of them whatsoever – yes, lap dance is illegal in DC, it is the Capital of the free world after all. So no wonder that after coming out of these establishments guys jump in my cab and ask to take them to a massage parlour or to pick up a girl on the street. Well, I know a couple of massage parlours, so I take them there, but messing with those street girls is dangerous, because cops watch them, and they arrest both the client and the service-provider. They do set up people too – some street-walkers are really policewomen, after you name a price you can get arrested immediately! One of my cab-colleagues , a nice Iranian guy, got busted this way – he just wanted a blow job, and as soon as he said that he is ready to pay fifty bucks for it all of a sudden three police cars came out of nowhere and he got arrested and charged with soliciting for prostitution. He had to pay fine and take some stupid classes about sexual diseases, and he still sees that set-up girl walking around the same area, about five blocks from the White House.
Some of them walk around the hoods, and most likely are not cops, but you never know…Here is the way to check if they are police or not: it is illegal for police agents to show their private parts, so if a girl shows her breasts she is a legitimate prostitute, but she wants to make sure that you are not a policeman either, so what they usually do – they grab and touch your dick after asking for a permission, of course. Then, everybody is out of danger and can proceed to business! But not so fast.
Cops patrol every street and alley of DC, and they can pull up any second. Once I met that Latin girl Sylvia at a Eurasia Foundation party and was giving her a ride to her car. At the parking lot as soon as we simply started kissing bright police cruiser lights appear and the cop was about to arrest both of us, until a short interrogation and a credentials check. I told him that she is my friend, told him her name and she told him my name. “ Does she really look like a prostitute to you, officer?” – I asked. She actually was dressed quite sexy. But since policeman finally understood that she was not into hooker-business, he let us go and I fucked her the same night at her place in Silver Spring, fantasizing about her actually being a prostitute and sticking ten-dollar bills into her wet cunt…
                ***
     Well, I tried real street-walkers too, of course. Sometimes you just want to relieve stress, and it doesn’t matter who sucks your dick, as long as you don’t jerk it off yourself. And I did not want to spend much money either, those junkies can be bought for ten to twenty dollars. They just walk along some hood street, looking at the cars passing by, so when you stop next to them, they just come up, get in, check your dick for police-proof and then they are all yours. The problem is to find a hidden spot for a cop-car can pull up any second out of nowhere.
One time I asked  that black middle-aged woman if she lived around, so we went up to her room in the cheap high-rise on 14-th street. I did not want to be seen with her so I followed her a few steps behind. And I had my cap on too so my face would not be picked up by cameras. She fucking had a roommate too! “I got fresh blood”-she told her, I felt sick after these words, but it was too late to leave, so we went to a separate room, I gave her ten bucks, made her take off underwear and sit down on the bed. I simply was standing with my cap on and fucking her in the mouth squeezing her huge soft breasts. It took me about 30 seconds to come, and since I after taking the condom off made her to wipe my sperm-covered dick clean with a paper-towel. No class, just a dirty monkey business.
      Another time I was giving a ride to that street saxophone player all the way to North East DC taking Rhode Island Ave where here and there women walk along, so on the way back I stopped by one and let her in my car. I simply parked on the side street and let her suck my dick and balls for a ten. If the police pulled up there was nothing I could do! A middle-aged worn-out black woman did not look like just a friend of mine, or colleague, or a cousine. She also put the condom-covers right on the dash-board, stupid bitch! Well, I got lucky that time again, and after dropping her back at Rhode Island Ave went back to work in downtown DC.
      Lots of girls walk on North East part of New York Ave, ready for truck-drivers and whoever… I picked one up at the bus stop, I had a feeling she was working and a needed a stress-relief at the moment. We pulled up into some wharehouse yard, it was a dead-end and mine was the only car in it. Although I turned off the lights and engine any police car would wanna check on me. She didn’t have condoms either – and that’s what you call a DC pro! So I made her to lick my balls, came all over her face, and pushed the pedal to the medal just to drop her off my car as soon as possible.
Most of the street-walkers are black, although from time to time you see a white trashy whore walking along and looking at the drivers. Once that white woman was staring and waving at me from the bus stop, so I made a turn and let her in. I had a feeling she was working but wanted to make sure, just for fun. So she said she didn’t have any money but needed to go downtown, and was ready to satisfy me. That turned me off instantly, and I said that I would give her a ride just for free. So we talked on the way: she was originally from Virginia, has been working in DC for a few years, got arrested a few times but got back on the streets. Her name was Melissa, I am sure she just made it up.
   “I had an encounter with Russian dudes just the other day”- she said. Those Russian students picked her up on the streets, brought her home, and wanted to pay for pleasure by credit card. They were drunk as shit too, so she left. The guys were following her on the street, and finally got into fight with some street dudes.
“I don’t know what happened then, I took a cab”- she said. ”Are you sure you don’t want anything? It won’t be expensive.”
“Do you fuck in the ass?”- I asked.
“Usually I don’t. But if you really want…” No I didn’t, so I dropped her of on 14-th street and went home. Sometimes I get a pleasure from just talking to different characters, since one of the best pleasures in life for me is the pleasure of human interaction and communication.
    That’s the whole point of me picking up those street whores – just to have some kind of encounter, relieve some stress and unload some sperm… But the whole activity is so dirty, the women are mostly ugly and dull that after experimenting with that kind of activity I call it quits. Although, never say never. Just never for now.
It’s much more fun to play a sex game with a regular normal woman, the one you don’t have to pay to, the one who can blow you off, or let you into her world… Or just body.

                ***
      I was going down on Connecticut Ave at 3 am on a Friday night and stopped at the light on the intersection with Florida Avenue – in front of the “Russia House”, for some reason I had a few stories connected to this restaurant or around it, may be its because of its location in a busy spot of town, or may be it has some energy around it which we don’t see but it does exist, and especially attracts Russians like me. But that time it was just a coincidence – a young black girl crossing the street in front of my cab suddenly came up to my window on the passenger side and slightly knocked on it. So I rolled it down thinking that she needed a cab ride. Well, it was not quite what she needed. “Would you like me to give you a nice blowjob?” - was her first question. “ No, thank you” – I said. She took me by surprise and I thought that it was strange and might be some kind of police set up. “ I see “- she said.” If I was a white girl you would not reject.”
“It’s not because of that! You are very pretty but I just don’t understand why you want it? You want to it for money, right?”
“No, not for money. I just you and it occurred to me…”
By that time the light turned green and there were cars behind me patiently waiting  - it probably looked to them that a passenger was simply negotiating fare with a taxi driver.
“You wont regret it! May I get into your cab?”
“Oh, boy! Jump in real quick to the back seat but I will just give you a ride without any blowjobs or anything, ok?”
   Car behind me started signaling and blowing the horn, so the girl got into the back seat.
“Where do you need to go?” – I asked. I really did not want to put myself into some kind of trouble – I had enough experience in making out with passengers in my cab, every time I got lucky, and nothing bad happened. But I knew that if police saw it I would probably be arrested, and who knows how my passengers would testify under pressure although everybody was more consenting. So I really just wanted to give her a ride, just for the fun of it, and nothing more.
“I really feel like sucking your dick, please, let me! Ny name is Destiny, here is my ID” – she really handed to me her ID and in fact her name was Destiny. She was in her early twenties, with pretty face and nice long gurly hair. She was dressed in jeans and white blouse, she was quite attractive.
“We had a party with my girl-friends and we stay at the Courtyard Marriott, I was on the way there but then I saw you. If you want you can come to our room.”
Courtyard Marriott is just a couple of blocks from that intersection so I made a U-turn and soon was pulling to the empty cab-stand in front of the hotel on a side street.
“Please let me do it, do you mind? Am I not too good for you? Don’t worry I won’t tell anybody, I just really wanna suck it, pleeease!”
Unbeliveable! So she is was not a prostitute, she didn’t want any money, I guess she really was eager to give a blowjob, may be it was her personal challenge – to suck a taxi driver’s dick? By the time I pulled to that cab stand I got slightly exited myself.
“Ok” - I said. “Come to the front seat”. She readily obeyed. She sat next to me, then put her hand on my zipper and went down to my crotch with her head, unzipping my pants at the same time. I was playing with her nice perky breasts and then then put my hand inside her jeans, under her panties and straight into her hot and wet pussy. It was so wet, almost dripping.
“Wait, let me take my pants off” – she said. Boy, that was not necessary and risky! Passenger on the front seat without her pants would be a red flag for anybody passing by, thankfully there were none since it was a small side street next to Connecticut Avenue which I was facing and seeing all the cars, including patrol police cars, going down the avenue. But she already took her jeans off along with her panties, and got back into sucking my cock and I was passionately fingering her.
    I came quite quickly, in one minute, she swallowed all my cum and then licked my dickhead and balls. I said “thank you” but felt like finishing that adventure as soon as possible and with my three fingers made her come as well. “Oh, it feels so good!” – she moaned. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to our room? My girl-friends from the Dry Bar are there, they would love to meet you!”
   “Not this time, sweetie. The sooner you’ll get dressed the better. And, thank you – you made my night!”, I said - it’s always good to stop in due time.
   Every time I pass by the Marriott on Connecticut Ave I look at that cab stand and see that it is very visible and I just got lucky again that nobody was looking or passing by.



                ***

      I was passing the Capitol Grill on Pennsylvania when a valet parker flagged me and opened a door for a classy lady. She was going to Bethesda, she called her husband and told him that she was on the way home and that she loved him. She wasn’t quite sober, I’ve noticed but couldn’t believe my own eyes when she asked me to turn around and look at her. She took her white blouse and bra off right on the back seat of my cab! She was playing with her tits, asking me if I wanted to touch them! With one hand on the steering-wheel, I put another all over her tits - she moved closer to me. It was in the middle of downtown DC, and anybody could see it! Police, I am sure, would not appreciate the fact that a cabbie was publicly engaging with a passenger in front of the whole world… So when we hit Reno Road, I pulled to the side street, stopped my cab and got into the back seat myself.
“Uh, would you like to suck on my nipples?” - I would.
“Uh, you make my clit wet!”- oh, yeah, my middle finger was already in it.
“I am on a period, so just touch my breast, please…”
I thought she would help me to come, but she said she couldn’t.
“I am an ex-Playboy model, that is what we Playboy girls do, but I can’t have sex with you here…”
“Yes, I know, and your husband is waiting too,”-I said squeezing her nipples the hardest way. I almost came myself!
“Uh, I love it, squeeze it hard, baby!..”
I saw a patrol police car passing on the crossroads, and decided to find a better place for a play. Her name was Nicole, and all she was doing just teasing me, letting to touch her everywhere though…She was sitting on the passenger seat already, smoking, with her blouse pulled up all the way, and my right hand being naughty. She said again she couldn’t give me a blowjob though, so I didn’t insist. I said that I wasn’t going to masturbate even being so turned on, she said she does masturbate often, in the shower, shaving her pussy. We were coming closer to her house, so I squeezed her breasts one last time, French-kissed her, took my fare-money and went back into the city. The devil himself was testing me again! Nicole did look like a Playboy-bunny - that kind of temptation is hard to win over for a big majority of men, and I am one of them too. That is what puts us all down in the end - uncontrolled passion, sexual desires, ufulfilled fantasies…
     I did it again - deep in my mind I realized it was another test of my strength, but was following her lead anyway. Oh, Lord, tell me -how can a weak and sinful cabbie resist such a thing? We all are going to be punished for our sins I thought, grinning. In a couple of days I wasn’t grinning any more…
                ***
                NOT SO JOLLY ENDING

And if only my slow-thinking and stupidity did not affect anybody else’s lives - I could live with it. But one failed moment-of-truth has changed not only all my life in a second, it took my friend’s life, took it FOREVER.
Here I am sitting in a cab-line on 18-th street at 2.30 in the morning on a Monday night,or Tuesday morning already, to be exact. It was the a college night , so surprisingly for a Monday night, clubs on that street were full, and people were hanging out way past the last call. I just gave a ride to a tall black guy, possibly a basketball-player, to the George Washington University, and came back to that same spot in front of club Five, ready to take the last fare and go home. I’d made enough money that night and felt at ease and relaxed. I would be home soon, switch on my Russian satellite TV, have a glass of Black Riga Balsam, made of natural berries, herbs, buds and oils , and fall asleep in peace and quiet, ready for the next day. That was my plan. But God had a different plan for me. And it struck me in a second!
On that particular corner of 18-th Street and Connecticut Avenue I sometimes see mass fighting which I thought doesn’t exist in America, especially in DC with all the security and police presence. But on that corner quite often people are finishing up whatever quarrels they started in clubs. It usually happens after the last-call, which is 1.30 on the weekdays and 2.30 on week-ends in Washington. Sometimes police is helpless for a few minutes - what can one policeman do when 10 guys are fighting? Once they were fighting too close to my cab hitting it a couple of times, so I pulled a little forward continuing to watch the fight until the police broke it.
Another time the guys jumped into my cab, and asked me to drive as fast as possible - I just saw them fighting with another group: Serbs against Croats. I drove off taking them from trouble.
Right in the middle of Connecticut Ave once I saw a black guy with a baseball beat chasing another brother for a minute or so and then beating him with a beat, you could hear the bumping noise… That guy escaped, but only to get to his car, and in a few minutes he bumped into the crowd standing on the corner- that is where his offender was standing! Police came, of course, but I was on the way with a fare already…
I was watching those fights in amusement as a spectator, imagining how I would hit and kick in the same situation. When the opportunity suddenly struck me - I failed, and failed miserably…
Here I am sitting in my cab, enjoying slow songs on CD, I just recorded from the internet: Scorpions, Chris Reah, Tanita Tikaram, Simon and Garfunkel… Suddenly, in front of FIVE, ahead of my car on the left, I saw some kind of movement - like some people are getting ready to fight, standing with their hands up in fist-fighting positions. Well, all night long I saw a policeman going back-and-forth along that street, and I thought that finally there would be order on that diabolic corner, since who would dare to fight in front of a patrolling officer? I couldn’t see who exactly was taking part in that confrontation - the view was obstructed by a car sitting in front of me, and there was a gathering of people over there. Then… Then it happened: one guy ran from that crowd right in the middle of the crosswalk , stopped abruptly, turned around and made a fighting stance… Three other Middle-Eastern or Hispanic looking guys were walking up to him with their hands up-and-ready! I saw it all from my seat…But it took me a second to realize that the guy on the street was my friend! His name was Andrey Apostolov, he used to be my roommate! I was in shock for a moment, but there was no time to think, no time to hesitate! Go, help your friend, cabbie! Run, jump, yell, do something! But my stupidity and slow-thinking put me down again - I was doing all of it but not fast enough thinking that this would be over by now, not foreseeing anything serious happenning to Andrey. But it did happen. The front guy made some sort of jab into Andrey’s face, Andrey lost a balance momentarily, and fell on his back. God, he wasn’t moving! I rushed to him, but not really rushed - just walked to him fast, looking at him laying down on that street, thinking that he would get up in a second. Those guys went into the crowd. I wasn’t worried about them, I was thinking how Andrey would get up and we either go on fighting with them or just go to my cab and go home… I approached Andrey, he lay down breathing steadily, with his eyes closed. There was no blood whatsoever. So I shook his shoulder gently..
-Andrey, vstavay! Vstavay, Andrysha! Wake up, wake up, Andrey!
He did not. No reaction. It can’t be! I was sure that he’ll open his eyes in a second. I wasn’t thinking about the fight any more, only about how to get Andrey into my taxi and leave, so he wouldn’t have to pay if ambulance would come - I knew he wasn’t insured, and I knew he wouldn’t be happy to find himself tied up with those medical bills. He probably would be mad at me for letting the doctors in for that minor injury. Well, I gently dragged him closer to my cab, some black guy passing by helped me with that.
“Time to get up, Andrey! Let’s go home! Come on, Andryusha!”
He still was laying down, right next to my cab, and still could not imagine that anything would happen to that handsome and strong guy. Boy, was he handsome! He was a real babe-magnet, too. And here he is - lying down on the street motionless. Next to my cab -Potomac 33.
The cops came by. One of them broke salty-sticks and put them into Andrey’s nostrills - Andrey’s head shook a little bit, I thought, and a liitle silliva was coming out of his mouth with some blood in it. I still was not even thinking about anything bad whatsoever, can you believe it? I leaned over Andrey, waiting for him to get up.
“If he’s OK, do you mind if I take him home?” - I asked the policeman.
“Do you know him? Were you together? What is his name?”
“We were not together, but I know him. His name is Andrey.”
Cop took out Andrey’s money-clip from his pocket, took out his ID.
“Yeap, Andrey Apostolov. Well, let’s see what happens.”
Out of the crowd came a young guy.
“Sir, I am an Army leutenant, I saw what happened, he caught a hit. The guy who did it is right there, in the crowd. There were three of them, they are leaving, they‘re about to turn the corner…”
“We gotta deal with that guy first,”-the cop said.
I was with Andrey, I was waiting for him to get up, I was thinking the police knew what they were doing, I thought they would already go after the perpetrators… I was all wrong! Police thought that Andrey was drunk, that’s all! That Army leutenant kept telling them that there was a fight, I also said that there was a fight. The firemen came, the ambulance came. Andrey, it’s time to get up, enough already! No. They put him on a stretcher. At that point we were all surrounded by policemen, fireman and nurses.
Suddenly, the leutenant said:
“Sir, the guy who hit him is in that car on the light.”
“You saw it?”-said the policeman grinning.
“Yes, sir. I saw it.”
I was still standing by my cab with Andrey laying on the stretcher… I kind of looked at the car, which stopped on the side next to our gathering of useless people. The light turned green, and the car was gone up the street. I heard some exclamatory noise out of the cabin. No doubt, it was them!
“They are leaving, sir”,- leutenant said.
No reaction whatsoever! Again, what dark force were holding me from running after the car or just marking their license plate number? Carelessness, stupidity, foolishness, relying on cops… I should have known by now you can not rely on anybody in this life! Even on a friend - a friend like myself, who saw it all, and did not do a single smart move neither to prevent it, nor to help Andrey, nor to catch criminals… Empty space! Ghost, nothing more! Fucking observer! Wishful thinker and dreamer! Careless mother-fucker! Even when I knew Andrey was in the hospital I still was not really worried! You wanna know what my thoughts were? I thought that when Andrey will recover he would not want anybody to know that he missed that punch and that he ended up in a hospital! He was a proud guy, I knew it. And I am simply fool!
But what force blocked all my reasonable actions? Was it me or was it something else? How could I have done exactly the opposite what any person in his right mind would have done in that situation? Why was I too slow jumping in between Andrey and those three demons? Why didn’t I catch those demons or at least tried to catch???
Andrey died. His brain was dead for all the time he was in the hospital, his body was still breathing. He hit his head against the asphalt when he fell down on his back. His parents came all the way from Moldova just to bury their only son. He is buried at Rock Creek Church Cemetery in Washington DC at Russian Orthodox part of the cemetery.
This cemetery is situated not too far from my house, where Andrey used to live too. You can see it from the North Capitol Street. After return from Riga, where I spent most of the summer, driving along North Capitol I’ve noticed some distinctly looking Russian chapel. It was not there before, so I thought to myself to stop by one day and check it out. I wasn’t in a hurry though, besides I try to stay away from cemeteries. Well, I had a chance to see the chapel up close at Andrey’s funeral - he is buried not too far from it.
It was baptized a few days later.
That Monday evening I gave a ride to an elderly dude from Mayflower Hotel cab-stand onto the Waterfront. After paying his fare he gave me a dark-red rose saying that I should give it to some girl. I put it into the door-pocket and forgot about it… That is until the funeral when Andrey’s grave was being covered with the same-type dark-red roses…
In early June Andrey gave me a ride to the National Airport, that is where we hugged each other last time. Last time in life. He moved out to Rockville, and took all his belongings except a pair of sports flippers, white towel and a plastic bag fuul of bar-candles. I mean - it was filled up with candles. I lighted them every night in front of the icon praying for Andrey’s soul - let it rest in peace!
Dear Andrey! Forgive me for not acting fast enough at that fatal moment - I think I could have saved your life, my friend. May be it was not in my power, although I think God staged this situation to test my actions too - and I failed miserably. But now it is crystal-clear that God not only does exist, but is watching us and testing us every day. And He gives us signs, only often we don’t pay attention until something unpredictable and unexplainable happens. Something tragic…Look, how many signs he had prepared for me: rose, chapel, candles… My cab number is 33, painted big on boards, - and you died at thirty-three years of age! Your death, Andrey, not only gave you a new life, it turned around my life too - it made me think how sinful I am, how often in the routine of everyday chores I forget to worship God Almighty, it made me confess and repent. I hope to meet your soul up there one fine day. But looks like more challenges are on the way for us humans, I’ll do my best to meet them and fight in God’s name for truth and faith. And for you, my dear friend.
When you moved out, you left a souvenir for me - a yellow porcelain taxi-cab sculpture. That taxi-cab was carrying me around the Capitol City, that taxi-cab saw so many sins - my own and other peoples’, that taxi-cab brought me to the place of your demise and delivered the revelation for me…
Oh Lord, bless our actions in Your name, bless our souls - on this side and that, and, please, bless the Jolly Taxi too. After all, it is integral part of my living, and, may be, part of Your Divine Plan too, unreachable for us, mortal cabbies!


                THE END