Conversations with Taxi Drivers #17

Sitting in the front seat of a taxi. I'm ambivalent about it. Particularly since that beer ad/song thing where he said I'm an Aussie and this is a national trait. That's the downside. The upside is that directions are easily received. And I give good direction. Believe you me. But I usually sit in the front seat when travelling alone in a taxi out of some sort of misplaced social repsonsibility I feel about somehow snubbing the cabbie if I sit in the back. Which is actually pretty fucked up, but, well, at the very least I get my directions followed and offered the odd blowjob. I'm a fairly amiable fellow, and count myself up there with best of conversationalists. No really.

So, taxi's hailed. Oooh, it's a swish one, black leather seats, doesn't smell of stale sweat. The driver is verging on obese though.

We start with a random conversation about routes through North Melbourne, the upshot of which is that Mr Taxi Driver believes, and I mean believes, that Queensberry Street is The Chute, the miracle of inner northwest Melbourne. Hey, I'm cycling, and it's got a nice wide bike lane so I'm happy. I have secret plans for bike lanes fo when I rule the world, but I'll share that at another time.

The radio is on. Bland commercial FM stuff.
An ad comes on for a strip club.
He turns up the volume. I raise an eyebrow.
The strip club is in Campbellfield. Like, Campbellfield? WTF?

"It's a good club that" he tells me.
"Huh?"
"Really good strip club that. But they're having a tough time."
"Oh. How do you know?"
"My mate owns it."
"Ok. So, is it like, more than just a strip bar, you know, can women go along too, like do they have a ladies lounge, or pokies, or a beestro and somewhere to put the kids?"
"Nah, it's a strip club mate. Like Club 20."

In Campbellfield?

Anyway, there was a falling out between two owners, and not-the-taxi-driver's-mate nicked off with half the cash and half the girls. And so taxi-driver's-mate is doing it hard. And we pause for a short silence.

"The girls make good money, you know"
"Really?"
"My girlfriend works there. She's 36. Some people think that's a bit old, but mate, I tell you, if I ever had the cash, I'd open up a strip club with older women. Men love the real women, you know, the full figure, especially older men."
"Do you mean, like, it's something attainable as opposed to, say, pneumatic 19 year olds." Wha...? I actually said pneumatic?
"Yeah mate, those young chicks you know, that's not where the money is. The older girls are much more popular. My girl, she works four nights a week and takes home $1,500 to $2,000 a week."
"Wow. I could do with money like that."
"Pretty good isn't it. And she only has to work 4 nights a week"

So we hit the directions again. Almost there.

"You know mate, she does really well, my girl. Two kids. She loves her kids mate. They're nice boys."
"How does she manage nights at work and the kids then? If you're in a cab?"
"Her mother looks after them."
"Lucky."
"They yours?"
"Nah. Good boys though. They're 13 and 15, so they don't need too much supervision."
"Make their own tea n stuff..."
"Yeah, and they're both in private school." Howard's Battlers, perhaps?
"My she is doing well!" I don't think I actually said 'my'.

We go through the paying motions. He give me my change.

"I really hope she makes her mind up soon."
"Huh?"

I have the cab door open.

"Well, you see, we're kinda having a break at the moment, me and her. And I really love her."
"Sorry mate, I've gotta fly. Thanks for the ride."