Well, not exactly. Substitute security guard for police and low for high, and you get a little closer to the real story.

It’s around 11:30pm Friday night, and I’m picking up a group of college kids at the Regal Cinemas at Valley River Center. For the last few months, VRC’s crack team of elite security dorks have been pulling over our drivers for speeding, crossing the parking lot the wrong way, etc. I haven’t been bothered yet, but that’s about to change. As we make our way around the mall I see those dreaded yellow flashing lights in the rearview, and I know there’s only one thing I can do, only one thing any cabbie can do in this situation - I ignore them.

We drive around the mall along the little two-way street closest to the stores. The security guard honks his horn, and my passengers inform me that I’d better pull over. “Why would I do that?” I ask. “Well, aren’t you supposed to?” I tell them that if it were a cop, I’d probably do so, but this is a mall security guard. The guard chooses that moment to ramp up the action, he pulls around us, back into our lane, and comes to a stop. I can see him calling for backup on his radio. He climbs out of his jeep, puffs up his 20-something chest, and tries to swagger over. I smile, wave and pull into the oncoming lane and head towards the main road. He runs back to his car and the pursuit is back on! At 10 mph.

“Dude, that was awesome!” The kids are now getting into the spirit of the chase, offering suggestions on tricky maneuvers and collision avoidance. The guard once again zooms past us, and having realized that blocking only one lane of a two-lane road just won’t cut it, he brings his jeep to a stop sideways, across both lanes. Damn, looks like we’re done for. He’s learned his lesson this time though, he’s going to stay put in the car in case I have other tricks up my sleeve. After a long 2 or 3 milliseconds of careful thought, I hit upon the idea of backing up a few feet, and pulling down the nearest completely empty parking space aisle. It’s just crazy enough to work! Once again, the chase is on.

We finally make it to the main city road that runs beside the mall, just in time to see a second security jeep coming to join the action. This time though, they have a plan. A plan so fiendishly clever it cannot possibly fail. We’re still moving at low speed, enjoying the chase, the kids having a great time! Once again, one of them pulls in front while the other moves in from behind. The one in front slows down, with the other in position to box us in. Oh no, however will we escape? I also slow down, keeping a nice 8 foot clearance between myself and the lead car. As he comes to a stop, I pull into the next lane, narrowly averting a disasterous capture. I pull up next to the lead car and roll down the passenger window, and motion for him to do the same. He does, and starts screaming that the police are on the way, and I’d better pull over, and pull over NOW!

“Well, I’d like to comply, really I would, but I have to take these folks home, so I can’t hang out and play with you any longer. Oh, some advice? One, you’re not cops. You’re mall security guards. Deal with it. Two, if you’re going to try to box in a car, bring a few more of your buddies. It takes more than 2 cars to pull that off. Three, be sure to mention to the cops when they get here that you tried to forcibly stop a Public Passenger vehicle on a city street, using your vehicles to do it. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re no longer on mall property. And if you don’t mention it to them, I’ll be glad to do it for you.” We pull away, leaving both mall cars sitting in the middle of the street. The rest of the trip consists of the passengers telling me what a cool cabbie I am, and they’ll tell their friends about the chase. And they tip me very nicely when I drop them off.

Now, while both I and my passengers thought this whole incident was a lot of fun, I have no doubt I’ll be hearing something from the front office about it. Just not what those guards would like. I think the company is getting pretty tired of our drivers being harassed, and it’s more likely the big bosses, who have more business connections in this city than you can count, will call the security company and have a little chat about it all. But until then, I think maybe I’ll just avoid the mall for a few weeks. Or maybe not.

Well, they’ve finally done it. Strippers have somehow managed to develop super powers. At least I assume they have, based on the passenger I had the other night. The following story you are about to hear is true, only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. And the guilty. And the truly stupid.

I’m sitting at the train station around 8pm, it’s slow for a Saturday. One of my fellow cabbies calls me, asking me to pick up one of his personals for him. He moonlights as a bouncer, and isn’t in his cab tonight. He tells me the passenger is a ‘nice guy, in town on a big construction job, he’ll take care of you’. I head off to one of the Broadway hotels to pick him up.

When he hops in, he tells me he needs to swing by a bank, on the way to a strip club. As we head for the bank, he tells me about the construction job he’s working, about his wife and kids, about being away from home and family for extended periods of time, but what are you gonna do, you go where the work is. He hops out at the bank to get some cash. When he gets back in, he tells me he can’t believe how much money he’s spending at the strip club, he figures it’s gotta be around $4000 in the last 2 months. “What? You’ve gotta be kidding!” “Nope,’ he tells me, ‘at least that much.” Wow, I must be in the wrong business. After a few moments of silent contemplation, he clarifies things. “But that includes $800 I loaned to xxxx so she could get a beater car to drive to work. She’ll pay me that back.” I look at him. “She will, she’s a good girl.” When I drop him off at the club, he tells me he only took out $200 so he won’t go crazy.

Fast forward a few hours, to picking him back up. He’s not a happy camper. He managed to get rid of the $200. And another $200. He goes off on a rant about how the girls don’t really care about the customer, they’re only in it for the money. Really?? I am shocked! He feels anger, and embarrassment, but not enough to stay away from the club, he’s been doing this for 2 months now. Going on $5k.

See what I mean? It has to be some sort of super power. Or maybe they’ve figured out how to become Jedi.

Stripper: This is not the money you should take home to the wife and kids

Moron: this is not…the money…I…

Stripper: This is the money you want to give to me so you can look at these!

Moron: (drooling) uuuuuuuuhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuhhhhh

Whatever it is, super power, Jedi mind trick or just playing on the weakness and stupidity of the male population, it represents a danger to the very fabric of society. For now, they exercise their powers in the confines of the club. But how far can we be from something else? Will I one day be walking down the street, minding my own business, when I pass a beautiful woman admiring a pair of stripper shoes in a store window, and suddenly find myself handing her my cash? Will we all simply become mobile ATMs for their nefarious shopping habits? And who will stop them? Who will stop them???

I pick him up on the west side, and I can tell from the moment he gets in that something has gone terribly wrong for him. He has that thousand yard stare, and doesn’t say right away where we’re headed. Just to drive. He looks to be mid-twenties maybe, he’s carrying a grocery bag. After a minute or so he tells me to head towards Four Corners, so off we go. He doesn’t seem talkative, so we ride in silence.

“Sir,” he finally says, “can I ask you a question? What would you do if the girl you’ve been seeing for four years dumped you, as you proposed to her, handing her a diamond ring?” Damn, I tell him, that is a harsh one. “Did she actually break off the relationship, or just say no to marriage?” “She told me I wasn’t good enough for her, and threw the ring down a storm drain.” Ouch. “It was a $5000 ring. She just tossed it away.” I ask him if he looked for it. “I don’t care about the ring. How could she say that? I’m a line cook, I pay my way in this world. I guess that’s not good enough.”

We ride on for a few minutes, he’s back to silent. When we arrive at his friend’s house, he says ‘I guess that’s life. Now I have to tell my mother I owe her 3 grand on a ring that’s gone. And that her son isn’t good enough.”

He hops out into the rain, and walks up the gravel driveway. Don’t worry, kid. Mom will NEVER believe that you aren’t good enough.

“Ow! Ooowwww!!!” He’s sitting in a parking lot, holding his elbow, in a lot of pain. Blood runs down his arm. It’s 3am, no passing traffic to witness his distress. He’s been drinking, but not to the completely wasted point. Quiet now, he contemplates his bloody arm and tries to wipe away the blood to see the damage. Then he turns. And notices the very large, pissed off cabbie standing behind him. And remembers.

15 minutes earlier

I picked them up in the downtown bar black hole of Broadway and Olive. They are both early twenties, and are sporting the urban thug look, although neither are thug. The one in the front seat has his hands wrapped in bandages, tells me he messed up bad on his skateboard and had to be stitched up at the ER. They want to head to Springfield, so off we go.

The one in front offers some general chitchat, how’s your night going, been busy?, etc. The one in back is mumbling a steady rant about how cabs are such a rip off. I look at him in the mirror, and say loudly “What was that?” He shuts up. The guy in front says they need to go to the GenX store, they’re looking for a girl’s house right in that area. When we get close, he asks if he can use my cel to call her and get the address. I dial up the number, and he talks to her for a minute. He hands back the phone, and tells me to just drop them in the parking lot, she’s gonna come find them. His buddy in the back asks if he can use my phone, so I hand it to him. He calls another girl, says he’ll be late, but can she please stay up and wait for him? We come to the parking lot, and they point to another lot across the street and want to be dropped there. My spidey sense is tingling, and I hit the door locks as we go over a speed bump. They don’t notice. As we stop, I ask for my phone back, and the guy in back reaches for the door handle. Finds it locked. He hands me the phone. The guy in front steps out, but stands in the door, and tells his buddy he’s gonna have to fish out the cash from his pocket, he obviously can’t do it himself with his hands wrapped up, and “no gay stuff, just fish out the cash!” His partner gets the door unlocked, and steps out and tries to get something out of his pocket. Hmmm…maybe they aren’t gonna run after all. Sure felt like runners, though. I hear a whisper, and see them bolt.

Or try to. Front seat guy takes off, but back seat guy gets caught up in his feet and goes down hard. Elbow straight to the asphalt, he’s writhing in pain as his buddy streaks off into the night. I jump out and run up behind him, but he’s oblivious, too caught up in his drunken pain to notice.

“Ow! Ooowwww!!!” He’s sitting in a parking lot, holding his elbow, in a lot of pain. Blood runs down his arm. It’s 3am, no passing traffic to witness his distress. He’s been drinking, but not to the completely wasted point. Quiet now, he contemplates his bloody arm and tries to wipe away the blood to see the damage. Then he turns. And notices the very large, pissed off cabbie standing behind him. And remembers.

“Motherfuucker, I’ll kill you!” He starts screaming that he wasn’t running, he didn’t even know the other guy, no no, it’s not like that…. I grab the collar of his jacket and stand him up. He struggles, and I slam him back to the ground. “Do NOT piss me off more!” He becomes compliant. I pull him back up, walk him to the cab, and tell him to sit his ass in the front seat. He does, all the while talking a steady stream of innocence, while I call the cops.

I explain to the dispatcher where we are, and what’s going on. He keeps protesting, telling me to hang up, don’t call the cops, it’s a mistake. I yell at him to shut the fuck up. The dispatcher asks me to talk to him in a calm manner, to keep things from escalating. I tell him, in a calm manner, to please shut the fuck up. The dispatcher laughs, and says 2 units should be there any second. A few moments later, 2 officers arrive, and while one handcuffs the idiot the other gets my statement. Yes, I’ll press charges. They have me sign a form, and let me know I’ll be contacted by the court. As the dumbass is stuffed into the cruiser, he wants to know why he’s being arrested. The cop tells him “Because you’re a moron!” God, I love this job.