Rope Me and Ride Me!

 

It must have been around '94, or '95, and I was third in line at The Stud. Around 1:00 AM a young man stumbled out the front door, and up to the first cab. He was tall and thin, around 22 years old, and a dead ringer for Iggy Pop, circa '73. He was wearing a pink cowboy hat, a cut-off t-shirt with some writing on it, and nothing else, and by nothing else I mean no pants, underwear, shoes, socks, watch.

 

I remember thinking that cowboy boots would have been a nice touch. The first cab driver waved him away, barely looking up from his newspaper. The second driver shook his head violently (side to side, not up and down), and drove away, in what seemed like indignation. Even his cab looked pissed off. So now it was on me. Seems like I'm always dealing with the nuts. I'll be 6th in line at the Hyatt Regency, the first five cabs get business people, I get the 70-year-old man dressed like Mary Poppins, smelling of urine. Billy the Kid walked up to the passenger window, I hit the door locks, raised the window to a 2 inch crack, and thought, No way this guy gets in my cab, but let's see what he's got to say for himself.

 

He didn't say anything, just held a piece of paper up to the window. On the paper were a name, a phone number, and an address in Concord, CA., with directions to the address written out, and a little map. I asked him if he needed a ride to Concord. He shook his head up and down. I told him to "move along little doggie." He produced a cell phone, from where I don't even want to think about, dialed a number, and motioned for me to lower the window and take the phone from him, which I did. What the hell, I was now in it for a laugh, and maybe a story at the cab yard. You can never have too many good stories to tell the fellas, and this one had all the earmarks of a beaut. I put the phone to my ear and there was already a woman on the line yelling, "Hello, Hello?"

 

Me: Hello.

 

Woman: Hello?

 

Me: Hello.

 

Woman: Hello, who is this?

 

Me: I'm a San Francisco cab driver. Who's this?

 

Woman: Oh, hello. I'm Billy's mother, Mrs. _____. Is Billy there with you?

 

Me: I don't know. Was Billy wearing a t-shirt that read, "If you can rope me, you can ride me" the last time you saw him?

 

Mrs. _____: Yes, yes. That's him. Can you drive him home, to Concord?

 

Me: Ma'am, we're in San Francisco. That's a long, expensive ride, approximately $95, plus bridge tolls.

 

Mrs. ______: That's fine. Just bring him home and I'll pay you.

 

Me: He's not wearing any pants. ANY pants, and he's high on what seems to be a volatile combination of drugs, alcohol, life.

 

Mrs. ______: Oh, he won't give you any problems, I promise. Billy is just........ a free spirit.

 

Me: Ma'am, if he soils the cab, in any way, you will be held responsible, which means you will clean up the mess, plus pay a $50 cleaning charge on top of the $95 fare, plus all bridge tolls.

 

Mrs. ______: I understand completely. Let me talk to Billy.

 

I handed Billy the phone and he talked to Mom for about 2 minutes. Actually he didn't utter a word. He just nodded his head up and down, up and down. I wondered why this guy couldn't, or wouldn't, speak. Was he an honest to goodness mute; too high for vocalization; involved in some sort of protest, or religious ritual? I didn't care anymore that he was naked and his balls and ass were going to be rubbing against my nice clean interior (rear seat). Why the hell didn't he say something? It's always the little shit that'll drive you mad.

 

I unlocked the doors, and Billy started to get in the front with me, but I immediately, and emphatically, pointed to the back. He handed me the well-worn Xerox with instructions to his house, and got in back. The ride was completely uneventful. Billy behaved himself, although I kept my rear view mirror aimed at him the whole way. I was waiting for the meat cleaver, although I noticed that he didn't seem to have one when he got in. But I'm not one to let my guard down. He stayed awake the whole time, never spoke, and barley moved.

 

The directions were impeccable, and I pulled up to the address within 45 minutes after leaving The Stud. Mom was out the door and handing me cash before I could turn off the meter. She gave me $105, thanked me, grabbed Billy, and went inside their house. I drove 2 blocks, pulled over, turned on my dome light and inspected the rear seat. It was clean. I remember it was a warm night in Concord, much warmer than in the city, and I took a moment to enjoy the balmy air. I thought about a couple of things that I no longer recall at this time, then leaned over and smelled the approximate location where Billy had been sitting.

 

I shouldn't have done that.

 

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