Pirates to Pyramids: Las Vegas Taxi Tales (3 page)

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I was starting to pull away from the Bellagio Hotel, and who walks in front of my car? Congressman Charlie Wilson.

I never before wanted so badly to park my car and buy someone lunch. Why? If you don't know him it is not your fault, because he may be the greatest unknown hero in America. At least until Tom Hanks played him in a tribute movie,” Charlie Wilson's War".

In the movie we find out that he was a mostly unknown U.S. Congressman from Texas. He made it his personal project to help the Afghani’s defeat the Russians in the 80's which helped topple the Communist government and knock down the Berlin Wall. That's all he did. And we're not told about it until 2007, during the unpopular war in Afghanistan.

No one was even noticing him walk into the hotel, alone. So I called the local gossip columnist to encourage him to get an interview and he said he wouldn't know him if he walked right up to him. I think that is sad. We should probably have already built a statue of him. Watch it happen after he is dead.

Note: Charlie Wilson died in 2010. Maybe now we will build a statue to honor him.

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It is always fun for cabdrivers to have a new hotel open in Las Vegas. A new hotel has new energy that is fresh and exciting for the visitors, even for veteran visitors who alre
ady know this town well. One evening shortly after the Palms Hotel opened I picked up four attractive young girls who wanted to see this new hotel.

They asked me a stock question, "Do you ever see any celebrities?" I stayed positive and said, "Oh yeah, especially at the newest hotels and you are on your way to the newest one in town."
Sell it, baby, sell it. It was the truth... but man, what a stretch to get it to happen.

As we rolled up on the hotel property we were all shocked, me especially, given how many uneventful rides I had had. We saw one of the stars of the hottest TV show of the year, CSI, George Eads, walk in front of the cab.

"How's that, girls?" I milked it. They screamed and I didn't blame them one bit.
I almost screamed myself. But that would have blown my cool cabdriver thing.

So as I was thinking "I am the coolest," for finding them a celebrity. Then I see how a really cool guy performs. He was looking so good with the muscles and the Hollywood haircut and perfect shades I just assumed he would break their hearts. Nope.

Beyond all my expectations, he walked back to our car, having noticed the girls’ excitement. He chatted up the girls a little and let them take pictures with him like he had nothing else to do. Then he blew them all a kiss and glided away so coolly into his Hummer that I started to think we were in a dream sequence. The girls must have thought the same because we all sat there, frozen, eyes wide open.

I give good cab.

SEX IN THE BACK SEAT

People often ask me if I've ever seen someone "doing it" in my cab. Some might want to and I am
a romantic but I discourage it, mostly because my rides only last an average of ten minutes or
less. I learned this the hard way.
 

One night, two guys and a gal got into my car after an amorous spell in front of the hotel while
they waited for a cab. I found it odd that she was kissing and pawing each guy, like she couldn't
decide which one to choose. They entered the car, named a destination hotel and asked me to
turn my mirror sideways.

“
No. It is a safety hazard and we will be there in less than ten minutes.” One of the guys offered me $20 to use the side mirrors for the remaining 2 miles, so we worked it out. I assumed he heard me about the short distance.

I checked the two outside mirrors and they were correctly positioned for a short drive. Then I saw her feet. I thought what are her feet doing out that window and then I saw her hair blowing out the other window.

I remembered how extra tall she was standing next to these guys, but nothing about her suggested she was a circus performer or any kind of pro but they were all a little drunk and
now she was lying across the two guys who were making noises. Humming and munching
noises.

Seemed like a poor time for guys to compete but evidently, neither wanted to lose out so close to
their goal and so they were working on opposite ends, simultaneously.

Well, to each their own but, damn, I was glad to see their hotel approaching. I told them, twice,
"We are almost there."

I confirmed she was just an amorous amateur when we pulled up to their hotel lobby and the whole cab line of people swooshed their heads with their mouths open as we went by and came to a stop.

One of the guys said, "Oh, oh!" she said, "What?"

"We're here," they said. “Hurry, put my clothes back on, hurry," said she.

They worked for a very long minute at this, with the open mouthed people staring at the cab
which was as interesting as delays ever get in my business. I bit both cheeks until they paid me.

Thinking back I remembered the doorman blushed and you cannot get a Vegas doorman to
blush, since they've seen almost everything..

The next people to get up to my cab studied the passenger area thoroughly before getting in
which, of course, I understood. They said, "This seat is still hot. Do you get this kind of thing of
ten?"

"Nope,” I said. “And aren’t we all glad?”

“
What do you say we open the windows for a little air?"

HOW SCREWED AM I?

Colorful language is not foreign to me. I was in the army. And I drove a lot of drunks when I started my cab career. Since new cabbies often started on the 3 a.m. shifts, on those nights it was nice to get sleepy riders just for the break from the language. Even the females would sometimes try to compete with trailer trash talk; just for fun. My ears paid the price. And I had to listen to it in case of impending violence to me, the cab, or both.

After a while I was very glad my seniority allowed me to work day shift when the drunks were sleeping. Gone with the drunks were the arguing, cursing, sickly customers and bad smells. And I grew attached to the peace and quiet of normal language. Most trips were now to the airport, buffets and shopping, never a need for cursing. I was now quite comfortable with civil talk.

Until one day, a guy started his conversation the moment he got in my cab with,

“
How screwed am I?” Only he used the F- bomb.

“
What does that mean?" I asked. He answered,

“
I am Arab-American. I am going to the airport to catch a flight and I don't have any identification."

I F- bombed him right back. "You are screwed."

This was New Year's Day only three months after 9/11.

"So, how did you get to Las Vegas without an I.D.?”

He barked, "I had an I.D. when I got here."

“
Okay,” I said more calmly," so where is it?"

“
I was pick-pocketed."

"Didn't your friends tell you to put your wallet in the front pocket? It's a sure fire protection."

They had told him and he had done it.

"I put the wallet in my front pocket."

“
What? How does a guy not notice someone reach into his front pocket?”

I wasn't prepared for the answer.

"Last night was New Year's Eve in Las Vegas." Okay, there were 300,000 people in the street, crammed like sardines. I've had heard that in some places they are squished so tight you get intimate with strangers and you've got no choice. Evidently, this was one of those scenarios.

A girl he didn't know put her hand down his pants and grabbed him "by my Johnson." He was so shocked that he eventually thought,
"Boy I am glad my wallet is in my front pock...hey, wait a minute."

Then she was gone and so was the wallet. How did she escape in this crush?
"I looked and looked for her but she had disappeared." Practice, he guessed.

Now he had to face the brand new airport security without any identification. Boy, you're screwed, I thought. Silence covered the car the rest of the way to the airport.

As I dropped him off, I gave him my only idea, which was admittedly thin because I had nothing.

"The only suggestion I have for you is to walk up and immediately ask for a cavity search, you know, just to show your earnestness."

He just stared at me. “Well...what have you got?" I asked him.

THIS IS SO EMBARASSING

I picked up this nice looking, well-dressed older man one Sunday morning. Little did I know that this single ride would alter my standard expectations, forever.

"Take me to the Bellagio" he moaned, unhappily.

I told him we didn't have to go there if it made him unhappy.

He said “I have to go there."

That didn't sound good. My eyes darted to the mirror to double-check my assessment of his age. The older they are, the quieter they are, is the rule. No, he was as old as I first thought. So how is it that he has to go there? What trouble could a nice old man get into?

He spoke slowly, "They threw me out of the Bellagio last night."

"What? They threw you out of the Bellagio?" A long pause followed.

"First I lost 12,000 dollars," he said.

"They don't throw you out if you lose 12,000 dollars; they get you a free room."

"I had a room," he boomed.

"Oh" I said. Another long pause happened.

"First, they threw my girl friend out," he said with a little anger.

“
They threw your girl friend out of the Bellagio?

My head had snapped around again, this time faster. I was shocked. Shocked he even had a girl friend. He was old. Maybe it was a hooker, I thought, silently.

"They called her a hooker," he said, outraged.

She was, I thought

"They called your girl friend a hooker?" I sympathized.

"So what, if she was?" he said. I bit my tongue. He went on.

"When you lose 12,000 dollars at a Casino in Vegas the least you expect is that you're going to get laid, but not at the Bellagio." Back came that outrage and another long pause.

"So, that had to upset you." I showed him I was on his side, because I had to get to the best part of the story before we ran out of ride.

"So then what did you do?"

"This is so embarrassing." Oh good. Tell me now or you are never leaving this cab.

"What did you do when they made you mad?" Yes, a really long pause.

"I got up from the table, went over and took a leak in one of their slot machines."

I looked right into his eyes, thinking, oh my god, did he just say that? The voice in my head got louder; Joe, the car is still moving- the car is still moving. I turned my head back to the road and started my own long pause.

The Bellagio was then considered to be the premier hotel on The Strip. Of all the hotels in the whole town you chose that one. Then my thoughts stumbled onto something good.

"Cheer up! At least, you are not in jail."

"Yes, that is the good news." But it did not cheer him.

"I am not allowed in the Bellagio again for at least six months." That figured. If not for the $12,000 he would never get in again.

"Did they take you to the back room?"

"Oh yes. They take you to the back room for that."

"Did they hurt you? Did they want to hurt you? Did they act like they were going to hurt you?"

"No, no, no. They just looked at me, for two hours. Then they escorted me out. This is so embarrassing."

"Oh… I bet they were checking out that machine to see if you damaged it. That is another good thing; you didn't have to buy a new machine. How good is that? “He clammed up on me.

“
See, we are finding some good things. Evidently you didn't get your stream up into the ‘electrical's’ of the machine. You probably just filled the change tray?"

I noticed I might be talking too much for him so I went back to listening.

"This is so embarrassing." He repeated, and he was right because I was even getting embarrassed. Now we both needed to cheer up so I offered a new thought.