Tonight I sat in the Taxi in the rain with the engine running and the hood up, my battery connected with jumper cables to the battery of a van with no door handles at the end of a dirt road. I read Harper's while one guy clicked the handle-less van's ignition and another guy kicked it, rocked it, talked to it.
I looked up from my magazine and watched them for awhile, and thought about this girl I met at community college ten years ago named Ashley. We sat near each other in an English class, and I found out one day that she went to a private Christian junior high school named Brethren, which is where one of my friends from high school went. "Did you know Kelly Pepperidge?" I asked.
Her eyes got big. Ashley was one of the prettiest people I had ever met in real life, and she was friendly, and she had good fashion sense. If I was a jealous god I would have disliked her. "Yes," she said, slowly. "I was really mean to her. I kind of started a club against her."
"Oh my gosh," I said, remembering. "You were the one who came up with PAK?"
She cringed, visibly, and said, "Yeah. You heard about that?"
PAK stood for People Against Kelly. Kelly was, and is, really, really nice. When I met her freshman year of high school she was bubbly, studious, and as confident in herself as any of us were freshman year, which is to say not really at all. She told me one time that people were really mean to her in junior high, that in fact there was a club of people who hated her.
I was teased in school at various points, but the bullies never organized. They never formed a union. I'm not sure of the details of PAK - did they have meetings, a clubhouse, collect dues? I don't know. Ashley put her head in her hands and said, "I feel horrible about that. Ugh. I hated that school - a lot of the other kids weren't allowed to play with me, because one day on a beach field trip we were next to some people playing a Violent Femmes song on a boom box, and I started dancing, and the moms were like, [whisper] 'That girl is evil.'"
A couple weeks after I found out about PAK I walked into English class visibly upset - it was raining and I'd left the headlights of my 88 Honda on all day. The battery was dead. Ashley asked me what was wrong and I told her, and after class she asked me where I was parked, and met me there in her car, and she had jumper cables in her trunk, and she knew how to connect them, and she jumped my car battery in the pouring rain.
Showing posts with label Taxi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Taxi. Show all posts
Friday, June 29
Sunday, June 17
Utah Teen Seeks Agoraphobic Girlfriend
Tonight the guy who runs the taxi (who recently asked in a sincere tone if anyone had any firecrackers, M80s, anything like that, and when someone said "Why," he said, "Because I'm thinking I'm just going to park all the taxi vans in a circle, pour gasoline all over them, and then light a bunch of firecrackers in the middle") (it is a stressful job) asked if I wanted to drive to Anchorage tomorrow at 10am.
"Umm..." I said. I work tonight 10pm to 8am. I work tomorrow night 10pm to 8am. If I really needed something from Anchorage I'd do it, but otherwise... "No, I don't think so. Sorry, I have to sleep."
"That's cool," he said. "Also, you'd have to pull the trailer behind the van." I guess for the passengers' luggage.
My last Anchorage run was a fun adventure of cultural stereotypes that turned out to be true, sandwiches that turned out to be garbage, me pretending to talk to Laura Ingalls Wilder while pretending Joni Mitchell was in the passenger's seat pretending to talk to Amelia Earhart.
But if I'd said yes to tomorrow's I feel like there would have been too many foreboding elements - it's supposed to rain, I'd be running on zero sleep, I just got over a horrible flu, I'd be pulling a trailer, and who knows whether any of the passengers would Canada me through it. Sorry. I know I would've had good stories for you, had I said yes and survived it.
---
In other news, I have two new neighbors, who are boys from Utah who look like they're twelve. They listen to emo music. All the time. Really loud. And sing along. All the time. Passionately.
Do you know what emo music is? It's inanely repetitive chord structures behind whiny-voiced guys yell-singing about their emotions, who all have this weird pronunciation with their vowels where they change "y" sounds into "oi" sounds. So like, "goodbye" would be yelled through the nose as if on the verge of tears and pronounced, "good-boiiiy". I don't know if that explains it. You are probably already familiar with this genre of music, dear reader. Somehow I've escaped it til now. Maybe because my neighbors back home blast either hip hop, R&B, or mariachis.
Hmm. How is it possible that when my neighbors back home blast those genres of music, I am annoyed the way you would expect a white woman who does not listen to those genres to be annoyed; HOWEVER, when I am in Whiteyville, USA and my neighbors blast emo music, I am as annoyed as a Mexican woman who listens exclusively to hip hop, R&B, and mariachis? I am the worst of both worlds. In this sense.
When I was a teenager back home I would sometimes do the music-war thing where I'd crank up K-Earth 101 (bubblegum pop oldies station) in response to the wall-thuddingly loud basslines of my neighbors' hip hop music. Which gets the point across in a non-confrontational way. Bubblegum pop oldies is one of the least aggressive genres of music. The point it gets across is, "I find your music as annoying as you find this music, so let's not do this."
However I don't know what the opposite of emo music is. Metal, or something? I don't like metal either. In response all I do is turn my music on at a normal volume, which drowns their music out. Because ultimately what I care about is that there be peace in Southcentral.
Just one more thought though: the other day one of the lyrics of one of their stupid emo songs was, "I want a girl who doesn't leave the house when I'm away." I snarled at our common wall in response.
"Umm..." I said. I work tonight 10pm to 8am. I work tomorrow night 10pm to 8am. If I really needed something from Anchorage I'd do it, but otherwise... "No, I don't think so. Sorry, I have to sleep."
"That's cool," he said. "Also, you'd have to pull the trailer behind the van." I guess for the passengers' luggage.
My last Anchorage run was a fun adventure of cultural stereotypes that turned out to be true, sandwiches that turned out to be garbage, me pretending to talk to Laura Ingalls Wilder while pretending Joni Mitchell was in the passenger's seat pretending to talk to Amelia Earhart.
But if I'd said yes to tomorrow's I feel like there would have been too many foreboding elements - it's supposed to rain, I'd be running on zero sleep, I just got over a horrible flu, I'd be pulling a trailer, and who knows whether any of the passengers would Canada me through it. Sorry. I know I would've had good stories for you, had I said yes and survived it.
---
In other news, I have two new neighbors, who are boys from Utah who look like they're twelve. They listen to emo music. All the time. Really loud. And sing along. All the time. Passionately.
Do you know what emo music is? It's inanely repetitive chord structures behind whiny-voiced guys yell-singing about their emotions, who all have this weird pronunciation with their vowels where they change "y" sounds into "oi" sounds. So like, "goodbye" would be yelled through the nose as if on the verge of tears and pronounced, "good-boiiiy". I don't know if that explains it. You are probably already familiar with this genre of music, dear reader. Somehow I've escaped it til now. Maybe because my neighbors back home blast either hip hop, R&B, or mariachis.
Hmm. How is it possible that when my neighbors back home blast those genres of music, I am annoyed the way you would expect a white woman who does not listen to those genres to be annoyed; HOWEVER, when I am in Whiteyville, USA and my neighbors blast emo music, I am as annoyed as a Mexican woman who listens exclusively to hip hop, R&B, and mariachis? I am the worst of both worlds. In this sense.
When I was a teenager back home I would sometimes do the music-war thing where I'd crank up K-Earth 101 (bubblegum pop oldies station) in response to the wall-thuddingly loud basslines of my neighbors' hip hop music. Which gets the point across in a non-confrontational way. Bubblegum pop oldies is one of the least aggressive genres of music. The point it gets across is, "I find your music as annoying as you find this music, so let's not do this."
However I don't know what the opposite of emo music is. Metal, or something? I don't like metal either. In response all I do is turn my music on at a normal volume, which drowns their music out. Because ultimately what I care about is that there be peace in Southcentral.
Just one more thought though: the other day one of the lyrics of one of their stupid emo songs was, "I want a girl who doesn't leave the house when I'm away." I snarled at our common wall in response.
Sunday, June 10
Nacho Cheesier
I drove five guys to Anchorage on Wednesday.
But let's back up a minute: on Tuesday I drove the taxi from 4pm to 4am. Then I slept from 5am to 10am Wednesday morning. Then I drove the taxi back to town where it belongs, and saw the guy who runs it.
"We've got five climbers who want a ride to Anchorage. Three Russians and two Canadians. They need to leave in ten minutes. You'll have to take the 15-passenger van. You want to do it?"
"How much of the fare do I get to keep?"
"A hundred. And whatever they tip you."
My phone was on its last bar of battery power, I hadn't eaten breakfast, and I didn't remember how to get to Anchorage.
"Okay."
But let's back up a minute: on Tuesday I drove the taxi from 4pm to 4am. Then I slept from 5am to 10am Wednesday morning. Then I drove the taxi back to town where it belongs, and saw the guy who runs it.
"We've got five climbers who want a ride to Anchorage. Three Russians and two Canadians. They need to leave in ten minutes. You'll have to take the 15-passenger van. You want to do it?"
"How much of the fare do I get to keep?"
"A hundred. And whatever they tip you."
My phone was on its last bar of battery power, I hadn't eaten breakfast, and I didn't remember how to get to Anchorage.
"Okay."
Tuesday, May 29
Things I Need From Civilization
I asked someone who is going to Wasilla this week to buy me three things from the Wal-Mart there.
1. Blank cd's. The other week I drove a nice couple who were staying at the lodge to Denali, three hours north. It was the first time I had ever been north of Talkeetna. I made a hundred dollars.
Their accent was not familiar to me, so I asked where they were traveling from. "We start in Quebec," the wife said. She pronounced it, "Kee-bec." Huh, I thought. I've been pronouncing it wrong. We tried to talk about the weather where I am from versus the weather where they are from but were thwarted by the fahrenheit/celsius conversion. Then we tried to talk about gas prices where I am from versus gas prices in Alaska versus gas prices where they are from, but were stymied by gallon/litre converson. The car fell silent and I thought, I wonder if the real reason the US refuses to convert to the metric system is so small talk with foreigners will be difficult and we will remain in an ignorant bubble.
Anyway, it turned out they were from Brazil and had started their vacation in Quebec. We all had a good laugh when I explained I thought they were from Quebec. This was a preposterous assumption to them, probably because (from what I hear) Brazil is one of the best countries.
On the drive home alone I could not get any radio stations to come in and I did not have any cd's with me. I let the radio search continuously for a clear station and tuned out the static. The whole drive back, the only song that came in was "Cheap Sunglasses" by ZZ Top. I realized how good of a song it is. Then a bird smacked into my windshield and probably died.
I could go online and buy a tape-to-iPod converter thing... like that fake cassette you plug into your iPod to trick the car into thinking your iPod is a tape... but I like the idea of making cd's more. The challenge of picking songs I will not immediately get sick of. Trying to balance upbeat songs with slow songs. Trying to put some ones everyone knows on the cd's so that when I drive the taxi in town, my drunk friends will ask me to turn it up.
2. Bug spray. Did you know if you get too many mosquito bites it turns into leprosy? Little-known fact. I can't believe I forgot to pack bug spray after last summer. Not much else to say about this one. Except that I am really sick of the joke where people call mosquitos the state bird of Alaska. I might start saying that mosquitos are the state flower. Or the state dog. Each state should have a dog. Why not? I should try to start that.
3. Glue. To make these. I already have watercolors, and cardstock in the form of discarded hotel key envelopes. I've got big plans to turn the flowers into a crown and wear it on Solstice. I haven't yet tried to make them because I am still enjoying the fantasy stage of the project, where it is really fun to do and turns out beautifully.
1. Blank cd's. The other week I drove a nice couple who were staying at the lodge to Denali, three hours north. It was the first time I had ever been north of Talkeetna. I made a hundred dollars.
Their accent was not familiar to me, so I asked where they were traveling from. "We start in Quebec," the wife said. She pronounced it, "Kee-bec." Huh, I thought. I've been pronouncing it wrong. We tried to talk about the weather where I am from versus the weather where they are from but were thwarted by the fahrenheit/celsius conversion. Then we tried to talk about gas prices where I am from versus gas prices in Alaska versus gas prices where they are from, but were stymied by gallon/litre converson. The car fell silent and I thought, I wonder if the real reason the US refuses to convert to the metric system is so small talk with foreigners will be difficult and we will remain in an ignorant bubble.
Anyway, it turned out they were from Brazil and had started their vacation in Quebec. We all had a good laugh when I explained I thought they were from Quebec. This was a preposterous assumption to them, probably because (from what I hear) Brazil is one of the best countries.
On the drive home alone I could not get any radio stations to come in and I did not have any cd's with me. I let the radio search continuously for a clear station and tuned out the static. The whole drive back, the only song that came in was "Cheap Sunglasses" by ZZ Top. I realized how good of a song it is. Then a bird smacked into my windshield and probably died.
I could go online and buy a tape-to-iPod converter thing... like that fake cassette you plug into your iPod to trick the car into thinking your iPod is a tape... but I like the idea of making cd's more. The challenge of picking songs I will not immediately get sick of. Trying to balance upbeat songs with slow songs. Trying to put some ones everyone knows on the cd's so that when I drive the taxi in town, my drunk friends will ask me to turn it up.
2. Bug spray. Did you know if you get too many mosquito bites it turns into leprosy? Little-known fact. I can't believe I forgot to pack bug spray after last summer. Not much else to say about this one. Except that I am really sick of the joke where people call mosquitos the state bird of Alaska. I might start saying that mosquitos are the state flower. Or the state dog. Each state should have a dog. Why not? I should try to start that.
3. Glue. To make these. I already have watercolors, and cardstock in the form of discarded hotel key envelopes. I've got big plans to turn the flowers into a crown and wear it on Solstice. I haven't yet tried to make them because I am still enjoying the fantasy stage of the project, where it is really fun to do and turns out beautifully.
Friday, September 16
Monday, August 8
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