The Cut

Tuesday 4:35am: I am out hacking the streets of San Francisco early, again. Something woke me up. A mental vortex emanating from my previous cab shift. A thought popped into my head during half sleep which kicked in my adrenaline,

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The Homeless Scam

It’s 5:45 in the a.m. and I’m rolling the Castro of San Francisco, in Citizen’s Cab 2976, my eyes peeled for flags the likes of late night stragglers, and early morning Mexicans headed across town to their dish washing jobs.

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Cabbie Guilt

I’ve been having some weird sepia-tone dreams this past week. They’ve all involved escaping from one or some other long, drawn-out, violent and bloody urban drama. I don’t know if it’s the sickness I slogged through (which kept me home

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Call 911!

I have a theory, about why San Francisco is so… unhinged. When I lived back east, you would commonly come across a guy on the streets of the Lower East Side wearing a strung together suit of empty plastic water

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