On the Move!

Rewind ... Rewind .... Rewind!

2006-12-05T17:16:00.000+08:00

Playing Cyrano

2006-12-04T14:25:00.000+08:00

I like B … god knows how much I want to be with her!

I’ve got a good mate whom I have known for ages, who likes B as well.

Now this friend (let’s call him Z), wants me to play Cyrano so he could get to know B better. Being loyal to a friend that I am, I’d do that for him. There’s nothing more meaningful than a XX years of friendship … plus, I don’t think B thinks that way about me. I’m just a cabbie that loves to talk.

You see Z is your typical corporate Pow-Wow. He’s a leader of his industry. Models / Artists want a piece of him. He’s not your typical Mohammad Rahmat or Megat Junid. He has the dough and the looks and mix that with a splash of his wit, brain and personality makes him your perfect gentleman. If I’m a girl, I’ll spread my legs for him in a flash!

Z has known of B for X number of years. But he doesn’t have the balls to talk to B. Z got to know that B always takes my cab. Z looks at this as an opportunity for him to get to know B better. What better chance for Z to know B by using me as his Cyrano.

Should I, as a good friend of XX number of years tell Z the truth about my feelings for B or should I save these XX years of friendship and go on with this?

I wanted to tell her ....

2006-12-01T21:07:00.003+08:00

B boarded my cab crying today. I adjusted the rear view mirror to look at her. She tried her best not to show it . But I can feel her. I feel her sadness, I see tears dripping from her eyes. Those eyes are not made for that, it's too lovely. I heard her soft sobs. She did try her best to hide it from me.

I wanted to tell her that she can always count on me.

I wanted to tell her that not only I am a good driver, I am also a good listener.

I wanted to tell her we can drive around so she can see the world go by from the window of my cab for free.

I wanted to tell her that everything will be alright.

I wanted to tell her that I'd drive her to a happy place.

.... until reality hits me ... that i am just her cab driver.

parallel universe

2006-11-29T16:32:00.000+08:00

It’s been quite a while now. I’ve been busy ferrying people around, and never had the chance to get meself in blogspot to document my daily journal.

Life hits you when you least expected. Talk about luck.

I’m now am getting involve with a passenger. I don’t know whether that’s a right thing to do coz me mom always told me, never get involve with the person who feeds you. It’s started a few months back when I ferried her from One Utama to her office in Wangsa Maju. She’s the bubbly kind, there’s something about her laugh that reminds me of Cameron Diaz. You know … those cute little giggles. We had fun talking about everything under the sun. I find her very intelligent (that’s my no.1 turn on … well I’ll be lying if looks doesn’t matter, she passed the SIRIM ISO standard score at 10/10).

From that day onwards, whenever she called my call centre, she always requested for me. There wasn’t any flirting going on between us. I am generally a very shy person. I can get meself naked in any Makati City Bar but when it comes to the opposite sex, I just can’t do it. I don’t take rejection very well.

Well this girl … let’s call her B, she’s different. I enjoyed talking to her and I would like to get to know her better. I am glad that she requested me every time she needs a cab.

It’s funny though … there’s something about her that really scared the shit out of me. I’ve a feeling that there is a big chance that B is my long lost twin sister. Talk about similarity!! We go through the same process of life from birth till today. I kid you not. In fact we are glad if we find something that we can’t relate it to each other. I can even feel her when she’s depressed a few kilometers away. You know those feel that only a mother could feel when the child is in danger.

I can’t stop thinking of her.

What should I do?

Should I tell her that she’s special?

I’m confused …. My heart says something and my head says the other.

I’m not into really into relationships at this moment. But if I ignore this, would I miss the chance of a lifetime to be happy again?

Let’s just see how this soap opera goes. I can’t predict the ending meself.

Stereotyping

2006-08-22T13:17:00.000+08:00

Life is about defining moments. Sometimes you think you had the defining moment and then you look back and realize it was just another insignificant moment onto which you tried to project some kind of gravity. But occasionally you are really at the crossroad. And when those two roads diverge, your creature-of-habit self starts to push you down the path most taken, but your gut tells you that maybe this is the defining moment when you need to take the road less traveled. It happens in an instant. There is no deliberation, no analysis of the consequences, and no contemplation of the repercussions. You just do it!

I became I a cabbie because I think it’s the coolest job in the world. You sit in your car, wander around and get paid doing it. I am not denying, there are some bad apple in my profession (c’mon there are some bad cops as well).

A lot of cabbies do act as pimps. Imagine going on a 12 hour shift, getting less than RM200 a shift where ¾ of it will got to business expenses (Cab rent / petrol / food / coffee). Those extra incomes do come in handy to the cabbies that have family of 8 to feed. It’s easier to sell sex than to sell insurance.

When I was asked about women in my previous post I was a bit pissed. Stereotyping is not cool.

I remember when I was about 16 or so … I was body searched by a bunch of cop who thought that I was a drug addict …. Just because I was skinny.

Man … I really hate being stereotyped!! The world would be a better place when people stop stereotyping.

It is time to shave

2006-08-19T01:40:00.000+08:00

It is 1.19 am; I just got back from my shift.

I don’t know whether there’s a sign on my back that says … “want a lady, ask me!” or what. I’ve got about 5 passengers asking me questions as though I am a pimp. All one after another. In fact, one asked me whether I sell Viagra on the side. Go EFF off you MF!

I guess I better shave this moustache off.

Bitching time

2006-07-30T21:27:00.000+08:00

Since I'm not working today, I figured I'd post a brief list of some memorable passengers from recent weeks:

1. The young suburban couple who were "waiting for the mushrooms to kick in." They offered me RM20 to let them smoke weed in my cab, but I wouldn't. Instead I showed them a relatively dark street near Brickfields, where I let them off, so they could smoke up before getting on their train.

2. A manager of a bunch of Indie bands, including the One Buck Short and Alfafa Weedgrass (so he claims). I took him to a concert venue, where One Buck Short was playing later that night. He had lost his cell phone earlier that day in a taxi, but had managed to retrieve it in time for the show. He ended the trip by offering me free tickets and passes. Unfortunately, I had to decline.

3. The young well-mannered Indian guys who wanted me to take them on a long round trip, saying they were just meeting a friend for a second and there would be no waiting. Five minutes before we got there, one of the guys made a call from his cell telling their "friend" to be on the corner. When we pulled up, a preppy chinese guy walked up to the window of the cab. One of my passengers said, "Yeah, you wanted two tickets?" The guy said, "Huh? Oh, yeah." A discreet exchange was made through the window of the cab, and then I took the guys back to where I picked them up.

4. One of my very favorites was the oddly-mannered late-middle-aged lady who told me she only watched Korean and Hispanic soaps on TV. She rattled off all the different shows on the free and Astro channel and described the merits and drawbacks of each one. When I asked her what made her watch these crap shows, she told me she has always had the urge to learn a foreign language, by watching these series religiously, she had mastered at least two languages.

5. The rich young gay guy who voted for Keadilan and was dating the son of the Colonel of the Johor Military Force (Timbalan Setia Negeri)..I took him to the Carcosa Seri Negara while he told me all sorts of stories about his boyfriend. He gave me an RM8 tip on a RM12 fare.

6. The 23-year-old gay guy who had lost his virginity the day before to a much older, self-proclaimed spiritual guru.

7. The middle-aged woman who got in at PWTC and told me she used to be a cab driver in the early '80s. She quit driving because she went back to school and became a doctor.

8. The deaf girl who signaled for me to give her a pen and paper so she could write down her destination.

9. The woman who had just had dental work and was still numb from the Novocaine. She got in saying, "fethral ftheshen," which I finally realized meant, "Sentral Station."

10. The psychic who didn't read my mind about what kind of tip she was gonna give me.

11. The guy who claimed he produced three Malaysian Hip Hop songs. I took him to Jalan Telawi in Bangsar and the whole time he was flirting with some girl with a 'Yo! Brathar' thwang on the phone. Then he hung up and called his mom and and said "Amaaa, can cook Nande (crab) Kari today or not amaaaa? Can or not amaaa ... please laaah can laaaah"

12. The Japanese diplomat who used to work at the UN in New York who is trying to get Japan into the UN Security Council. (Then he was transferred to KL)

13. The young woman who worked as an oncology nurse, administering chemotherapy to rich people's pets.

14. The two gay guys from Damansara Heights, one of whom was planning on coming out to his entire family by way of a note.

Reading it over now, this list seems kind of tame. I suppose one reason for that is because I'm saving some of my better passenger stories for full posts of their own when I get around to it. And another reason is because there are just so many bankers and lawyers taking cabs in KL, and all of them are relatively sane and well-behaved. As one old-time driver told me once, "KL so boring these days, the cab drivers are more interesting than the passengers. It's just a jerk store out there."

p/s: However if you want me to give you a full post of any of the passengers above, please indicate which one. Cheers!

Tipping the Cabbie - 101

2006-07-22T14:42:00.000+08:00

Somebody fucked up, but, thankfully, it wasn't me.

Overall, it was a boring day. I drove around, picked people up, dropped them off, and sat at traffic lights. Apparently, people weren't in the mood to tip tonight. I guess it's time I addressed this, so here are a few helpful tips on tipping for clueless cabbers:

Most basically, tip like you would if you were in a restaurant where service charge is added. This means add about 10 to 15 percent of what's on the meter, or even more for exceptional service. This means if your fare is RM15, don't just tack on a single precious Ringgit. Give at least two, but three or more is preferable and customary.
Try not to ask for a coins back. That's just cheap.
If you ask your cab driver a million questions about his or her life, and he or she is nice about answering you and pretends like you're not the millionth person to ask these questions, give a little extra. Remember, most of the time we are just humoring you so that you'll give us more money. We are not necessarily driving around looking to make friends, though, if that happened, it'd be a nice bonus. However, this is a rare occurrence. Driving a cab is an exhausting job, made even more so when at least half of our passengers ask us the same tired old questions night after night, expecting some sort of entertainment. A nice friendly conversation is one thing -- and that is certainly welcomed and helps us get through the day -- but being repeatedly grilled about who we are, where we come from, and why we are doing this job, well that's something entirely different. And please don't get offended if your driver doesn't want to answer all the personal questions you may be asking. We might just be too tired and bored with ourselves to be able to force ourselves to answer.On a related note, do not ask your cab driver about the money he or she makes. We will not tell you the truth. It makes us nervous, mainly because we don't know if you're just innocently asking, or if you're trying to figure out if we're worth robbing.
If you need a cab to wait for you, compensate. We do not, by law, have to wait for passengers, since this means we will basically be losing money. Yes, the meter is running, but it is running at a much slower rate than if the cab was actually moving. The meter adds 40 sen for every two minutes of waiting time. This translates into RM12 an hour. If we sat with the meter on for the entire 12 hour shift, we would ultimately end up paying out more money in lease fees and Petrol than we made for the night. Additionally, do not act like it is your god-given right to have a cab wait for you. It is not. If you ask nicely, the driver will probably do it, but don't feel entitled to it.
Obviously, over tipping is very welcomed. Just know that when you give even just a ringgit or two more than the driver might have expected, it has a huge impact, not only financially, but mentally. I will never forget the people who surprised me with amazingly generous tips. But even just mildly generous tips have helped to revive my ever-fledgling faith in humanity. On the other hand, it's also hard to forget those who leave no tip at all.
If you fart in a cab, tip extra.

Are we there yet?

2006-07-19T15:01:00.000+08:00

I was supposed to work tonight, but I've been sick, getting steadily sicker all week, until I woke up with a fever this morning. I really do get sick a lot. I put the blame entirely on my parents. And also the fact that I rarely eat any sort of vegetable. The worst part is, I really need to work, I am bored through my arse sitting at home, but I recognize that it's a little too dangerous to drive for 12 hours while one's head is clouded with snot and virus. On top of that, when I'm in the cab, I try to drink as little water as possible so that I don't have to waste time using the bathroom. This isn't the smartest thing to do even while healthy (many cab drivers have kidney problems from either holding it in or not drinking at all), but it's certainly much worse to do when sick. Anyway, I'm again digging into old experiences for this post. Alas, the following story has to do with peeing.

Sometime last week I picked up these two women on Jalan Pudu. When they told me they wanted to go to Mutiara Damansara, I was a little concerned. I already had to pee and this was going to be no short trip. I set out down the Penchala Link, figuring I'd be able to hold it at least until I dropped them off, but, of course, there was traffic. By the time we got into Jalan Kuching, I was starting to sweat. Driving became difficult. I was afraid I would have an accident in my jeans, and to prevent this, I began fantasizing about dropping the ladies off, pulling up to the closest parked cars I could find, and squatting in between them. The situation was so desperate, I no longer cared about things like privacy and safety and toilet paper. After directing me around the neighborhood for a while, the women finally told me to stop. But only one got out. The remaining woman told me I had to make another stop! Emergency! My bladder was threatening to spill over with exclamation points!

I pulled myself together while the second woman directed me to her house. But I began panicking again when she said things like, "Turn at the light." I was trying not to breathe, but was forced to unseal my lips to ask, "Turn to the left or the right?" "Oh, left." She kept doing that, telling me to just "turn," until we finally made it to her house. She paid me, tipped nicely, and said, "Do you want directions back?" I said, "No, actually, could you please tell me where I can find the closest public bathroom?" She paused for a second, I think realizing my state of emergency, and replied, "Do you want to come in?" Me: "Could I, really?" Her: "Yes, it's fine. I've been there. I know how it feels." I parked and locked the cab, and followed her into the house. She pointed me toward the bathroom and, while I was passing the kitchen, I saw a man sitting there. I didn't stop to say hi. When I entered the bathroom, it felt like the most glorious moment of my entire life. I nearly cried. And when I left, I couldn't thank the woman enough. This was certainly the most generous tip anyone could have given me at the time. The whole way back to the city, I was filled with gratitude, mainly for the fact that I didn't pee in my pants, but also for the reminder that sometimes humanity can, indeed, be humane.

Sorry Cikgu!

2006-07-12T16:19:00.000+08:00

So last night was my first night back in the cab. I got into the city around 4:00 pm and found my first passenger on Jalan Sultan Ismail. She wanted to go to Starhill and, seeing that Jalan P.Ramlee was all backed up, I turned right towards Raja Chulan. When I hit Jalan Raja Chulan, I turned left to head to Bukit Bintang. But somehow, I totally overlooked the sign that was posted that said no turns allowed between 10 am and 6 pm, Monday through Friday. I mean, I guess I always knew it was there, but I was distracted and rusty and not really thinking. I just didn't see it, and was still clueless as to what I did when I got pulled over by the police.

They were just standing there, actually, waiting for idiots like me to do just what I did. The Police officer waved me to the side of the street and made my passenger get out and find another cab. When he finally told me what I did wrong, I just felt stupid. I've made this mistake once before, over a year ago, and I got a ticket for it then, too.

I handed over my license and sat there feeling annoyed with myself. After a moment, though, I realized I needed to just roll with it and not let it get to me, so I got out of the cab. I walked up to the police car and started talking to him, saying, "You know, I'm sure you hear this all the time, but I really didn't see the sign. I feel pretty dumb, actually, but I haven't worked in a few days and I guess I'm a little out of practice."

At first he was stern and a little cold, but maybe because I was sort of smiling and laughing about the whole stupid ordeal, he seemed to loosen up and all of a sudden we were almost friends. Of course, he still gave me the ticket, but I already knew there was no getting out of it. The worst part of it is the ticket holds a RM300 fine.

It needs to be said that these Police are notorious for being extremely unfriendly and unforgiving to cab drivers. They're our built-in enemies, mainly because their job is to ticket us -- and our job is to get away with what we can without getting caught by them.

My experience this afternoon, however, was actually not that bad. Sure, giving out a RM300 ticket is not necessarily a compassionate act, but the officer writing it was at least decent to me when he could've been a total dick, and that makes all the difference. I think he even felt a little bad, since I was being so casual about the whole thing, and eventually he smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and with just the tiniest tinge of guilt in his voice, said, "I'm just doing my job." This I understood, but I was just doing my job, too. Unfortunately my job is one in which I run the risk of starting my shift RM300 in the hole.

The rest of the night was fine. But the ticket sort of put a little damper on things.

Recovered!

2006-07-09T00:10:00.000+08:00

It finally popped! Thank goodness!!!!

God ... what a week, I never had a single boil my entire life and when it decided to grow on me, it was a twin boil right between my butt crack … a few cm above my anus.

I never realize that our anus moves a lot. Goodness me … it moves when we sneeze, cough, laugh, yawn (not to mention fart & doing No.1 and No.2 ) … I learned this the hard way.

Whatever it is, I am glad that this happened.

I wouldn’t have met Dr. K. Only thing is, she got acquainted with my butt and it’s not a pretty sight. How on earth am I going to ayat her when she’s seen my ugly posterior?

On the other hand, NZ All Blacks beat Australia Wallabies in the opening of the Tri Nation at the Jade Stadium, Christchurch and Amelie Mauresmo beat Henin to be the 2nd Frenchwoman to win the Wimbledon cup with an 82 year gap. Is this a good omen for MY team to win the World Cup tomorrow?

I’ll be driving back on Tuesday. I need to make sure that I am fully recovered.

Till then!

Mooning the Cutey

2006-07-05T00:00:00.000+08:00

It took me a lot of courage to make this trip. Yes, finally I made it.

BTW … the doctor is cute too. Only that I have to ‘moon’ her!

The Agony!

2006-07-01T21:22:00.000+08:00

They say I can tolerate pain. They’ve seen me suffered throughout the years. Yes, I’ve been betrayed, humiliated, dishonored and used. But I don’t have any grudge against them. We’re all human. We’re not perfect.

Agony, melancholy, misery, sorrow … they are just feelings.

All you need to do is to ignore it. That is how I deal with it. The more you think about it … the more it hurts.

But I can’t endure this pain anymore. I can’t ignore it. It hurts so much. It hurts whenever I sit, whenever I walk, whenever I lay.

How do you get rid of a boil in between your butt cheek?

Ps: I am taking a few days off work until this boil pops. Cheers!

Abducted by It

2006-06-30T01:46:00.000+08:00

I hate driving around KL on Saturday nights. The roads are full of Mat Rempits on suicidal mission. I don’t understand these guys … they ride on scooters and weigh less than 4 sacks of rice while trying to beat the sound barrier on that 70cc machine. For God’s sake … just go on a bicycle lah … at least you can bulk yourselves up!!

The light was red at the crossed junction between Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman and Jalan Masjid Jamek. I was waiting for it to turn green while watching the Mat Rempits ramming their speed machines next to me when suddenly …

“Bang …. Cepat jalan bang!” A very manly voice ordered me to hurry.

I look through my rear view mirror … it’s not a bloke … blokes don’t have big hair like that. It looked like Marge Simpson’s hair only it’s not blue.

“Nak pergi mana ni?” I asked

“Mana mana ja bang … janji jalan”

I turned on the meter as soon as the light turned green. I drove straight through Sultan Ismail Building towards the Railway Station. The Mat Rempits were doing the Superman maneuver while overtaking my cab.

“Stupid bastards!” I said to myself.

“Nasib baik lah bang…” I have to address ‘it’ as ‘it’ … coz at that moment, I’m not even sure whether ‘it’ was a he or a she.

“Apasal?” I asked.

“Diorang buat raid, habis kawan saya semua kena angkut, diorang bawak sampai 4 lorry. Kami bukan buat apa apa pun bang, lepak ja kat sana.” ‘It’ explained while doing the touch up on her face.

“Betul ka tak buat apa??”

“Betul bang ... saya ni bukan ‘pro’ bang … saya kerja kat office siang siang.”

“Habis tu apa awak buat kat Belakang Coliseum tu?”

“Cari anak ikan lah bang bukan cari makan…” ‘It’ chuckled.

“Oh! Cari anak ikan … awak nak convert kan diorang ka?” I teased.

“Abang tak tau … anak ikan ni lah terer bang … lagi lagi muka-muka rempit ni … apa diorang makan saya pun tak tau lah bang … sup torpedo kot …”

“Awak ni pergi office pakai macam ni ka?”

“Mana ada bang … saya pakai Jantan lah bang oii! Orang kat office pun tak tau saya macam ni. Mak bapak pun tak tau. Tu yang saya Jarang balik kampong bang. Eye brow dah trim cantiiiiiiiiiiiik gitu”

Then there was silence. The silence was interrupted by the most irritating ring tone.

“Helloooooo … “

“Akaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak … habis semua lah akak …. Ros … Yvonne …. Tina semua kena angkut. Nasib baik Mak dapat lari lah nyaaah … Kalau dak Mak pun kena sekali. ...” then there was a pause.

“Ni nyah nak jumpa kat mana ni nyah? Mak dalam Taxi ni. Mak tak berani lah nak gi sana balik … mak rasa mak nak pencen kejab … tapi mak tengah gersang ni … nak cari sapa? … huh … Ramli dispatch ? Tak kosa Mak ….”

“ Ok … nanti Mak suruh abang taxi hantar mak kat sana ya … Nyah jangan gi memana tau!” She ended her conversation and said “Bang … hantar kat Brickfields boleh?” to me

“Boleh …kat mana?”

“kat 7-Eleven”

“Ok …”

Then there was silence again …

"Berapa bang?" it asked when I stopped.

"RM12.50 ..." I showed it the meter.

I was handed two red notes with a hand sign - 'keep the change'. "Terima Kasih ya Bang" ... it exited my cab.

This really makes me wonder, why do people lead a double life. Is it all about perception and expectation? Is it hard to be truthful to yourself and being bitch by others? What does it take for someone to be happy?

One Night Under the Neon Lights - Final Part

2006-06-29T05:20:00.000+08:00

She brought me back to her first few days at the Beach Club.

“The first night there I was so nervous. Nobody came to talk to me. One of the experienced girls told me that I must make eyes at the men there to get their attention. Most of these men are shy so they need some encouragement. She was only giving me advice because she was going back the next day and didn’t consider me as her competition anymore.”

“So you didn’t get any customer the first night?”

“No. I was starting to think maybe it was a bad idea and I could never pay back the money I owe. The second night I tried to look more friendly. About 3 men talked to me. One even bought me a drink. But in the end nobody offered anything. I was too scared to ask in case it was the police.”

“There are police in there?”

“Yes. Some girls said that once a girl was arrested because she offered her services to this man who was undercover. But I guess you have to take your chances.”

“You were luckier the third night?”

“Yes. Only about 10 minutes after I started working this guy came up to me. He looked exactly like a Pinoy which made me feel a bit embarrassed. He asked if I was from the Philippines. I said yes. Then he asked if I was working. I said yes. And he asked how much. My heart was beating so fast because it was finally happening.”

“But you were relieved?”

“I was relieved but I was scared at the same time. He said he wanted me and my friend Alexis who was with me. I asked if he wanted us both for himself alone. He laughed and said no, he had a friend waiting at the hotel.”

“You mean he wanted all of you to do it in one room?” I found this quite amusing and chuckled a little. Which I shouldn’t have.

“He said he was in an apartment hotel. Micasa, he said. I didn’t understand at first and he spent some time explaining the layout of the place. We agreed on RM500 each for long-time and he brought us to his car.”

“Yeah. Micasa is not far away from the Beach Club.”

“No it wasn’t. Less than 10 minutes later we were in the apartment. The friend already greeted us at the lift. Something about needing to use his card to bring us up the elevator. It sounded like a safe place.”

“What was your impression of the guy?”

“We already talked a little bit in the car. We kept telling him that he must be nice to us because it was our first time. He laughed and said don’t worry. He told us his name was Redza. I asked him if he was Malay and he said yes. He seemed OK.”

“What happened at the apartment?”

“Actually I was really surprised because I thought the men would want us to come to the bedroom straight away. Instead they talked some more to us. Redza made us drinks but only Alexis took it. Whisky I think. I only took Coke.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Redza especially was interested in where we came from. Asked about my family. What I did in the Philippines. He shared a few jokes. I think he was funny. After I calmed down I realized he was good-looking too and I wondered why he had to pick us up at the Beach Club. But later I found out he was married so maybe it was more convenient than having a girlfriend. I think he’s your age”

“Surely you didn’t talk all night?”

“Well Redza was not in a hurry to do anything but his friend was getting restless. His hands were all over Alexis and finally the both of them went into one of the rooms. Redza said that it’s time for us to go into the room.”

“And you asked him for the money first?” I joked.

“That’s the thing. I almost forgot that I was working and I was actually beginning to like Redza. He was so kind to me. He offered to switch off the light like he knew I was shy. He said that we could talk some more if I wanted to until I was ready. I told him that I want to start working. Then he kissed me.”

“On the lips? I thought that was not allowed?”

“You watched ‘Pretty Woman’ right?” she laughed. “That is bullshit. Of course we kiss our customers. That’s how we turn them on. But with Redza, I didn’t mind. I enjoyed it. He was so gentle. He was always touching my hair and stroking my face and I liked that.”

This Redza guy seriously needs a girlfriend, I thought. “But he did it with you right?” I asked point-blank.

“Of course we did,” she laughed again. “And luckily I remembered to ask for the money after our first round.”

I found this funny too and we were laughing together.

“So, it wasn’t a bad first time for you, then?”

“No. Actually I wish I didn’t have a sweet guy like Redza as my first customer. I started to expect all my experience would be like that. My second time was not good. A drunken German who was rude to me all night. Luckily he went to sleep fast. The third one, well, you know.”

Yeah, Redza. Why did you have to set such high standards? By then I could hear the Azan from a nearby mosque. Mika said she needed to get back and go to sleep. I thanked her for a lovely conversation. More new things I learnt today, I thought.

I must admit, every time I do the Jalan P. Ramlee route at night, I secretly hope that Mika would jump into my cab. I just want to know how she’s getting on. I’m sure I’ll hear many more stories from girls like Mika. They are not very different from you and me. As I said, I can’t judge them. They are just earning a living. We all just get screwed differently.

...THE END

One Night under the Neon Lights - Part III

2006-06-28T05:25:00.000+08:00

I realized was sitting with her for a whole an hour already. She seemed more relaxed and was even smiling at some point.

“Are you OK now, Mika? Are you still upset?” I asked.

“A little bit. Thank you for listening to me. But I still cannot forget what happened just now.” She was not smiling so much now.

I regretted asking her but I was still curious. “What happened?”

“I was so stupid,” she said. “It was a slow night. There were not so many people at the Beach Club as it was a Tuesday night. Finally this man approached me. He looked Middle Eastern. I think he was an Arab. He made it easy. He asked ‘How much?’ I said RM500 for long-time. He seemed to understand what I meant and said he just wanted short-time. I said RM300 and he said OK. He asked me to come back with him to Crown Regency, just behind the Beach Club. I was quite pleased because we could just walk there and the negotiation was simple.”

“Then?”

“At the place, I did the usual thing. But after we had sex and I was still undressed, four other men came into the room.”

I felt disturbed. “And?”

“My customer said don’t worry. He said these are his friends. He told me all of them like me and they will pay extra.”

“What did they want?” I didn’t like where this was heading.

“They said they wanted to gang-bang me. Yes, that’s the word they used. My customer, who spoke better English than the others, said that they will pay RM100 each. I was scared already. I thought quickly, if I did not say yes they would rape me and do worse things.”

“What did you tell them?”

“All I could say was all right but only one time. By this time they looked really scary but said OK. I made sure they paid me first.”

“I hope they didn’t hurt you.”

“Thank God no. It was disgusting that I had to be in bed with 5 men at the same time but they did not hurt me. Please don’t ask me to say what they did.”

“This was the worst experience?”

“Yes, so far. You know, that was only my third customer. Not counting his four friends.”

“You mean you don’t get a customer every night?”

She looked slightly annoyed with me. “What do you think? There are more than 50 girls working there every night. We have to compete. And the customers are either choosy or too shy to ask. Also, our customers are mainly tourists because they are the ones staying at the hotels. I hear, for locals it’s easier for them to go to the health clubs. Those girls at the health clubs are lucky. It’s safe and they get many customers a day.”

“How did you feel the first time?”

“I was scared but I was lucky. I had a very kind man as my first customer. He called himself Redza and he was Malay.”

Next … last episode

One Night Under the Neon Lights - Part II

2006-06-27T09:21:00.000+08:00

If she wasn’t dressed in a short skirt and skimpy t-shirt she would look exactly like my neighbour’s 16 year old daughter. She had a sweet face. Innocent almost. It was not hard to like her. I imagine punters at the Beach Club would approach her all the time.

“I’m from a village in Cebu Island. I’m a Visayan. A friend from my village had worked here before. She was always encouraging me to take a holiday and work here for 3 months. When she was away, people said she went to Malaysia to be a waitress. So I was interested. I wanted to leave my job as a waitress in a restaurant in Cebu City anyway.”

“So you came here to be a waitress?”

“At first that’s what I thought. My friend introduced me to a man who said he was an agent and specialized in finding work for Filipino girls. He told me there was a fee: 60,000 pesos. That’s RM4000. He told me I would be earning RM800 a month and I have to give him half of the wages every month until I repaid the fee. I told him that there would not be much left for me.”

“Go on.”

“He told me there was another way I could repay everything quickly. He said I might earn about RM500 a night.”

I could guess what that involved.

“He said that there is no shame in it. Nobody in the village would know because I could tell people I went to work as a waitress. So he said the terms were, for every customer I get, I will have to pay RM400 to the mama-san in Malaysia. That way, the debt would be paid after 10 customers. After that I could keep the money all for myself.”

“How about your living expenses?”

“He said that I have to pay for my own. I could stay in a place where I don’t have to pay the rent first. But I will owe the money until I pay it.”

“Were you shocked?”

“I hear these stories before but I never expected that I would be offered a job like that. Still, I calculated that I can maybe bring back 150,000 pesos (RM10,000) at the end of three months. I don’t feel it would be that bad.”

“So did you agree then?”

“I said I wanted to find out more from my friend and then make up my mind. He said the offer was only open for a week.”

“What did your friend tell you?”

“She said it was an easy job. I only had to go to a bar and pretend I was having a drink with girlfriends. She said people who approach me will know why I’m there and will make an offer. I have to tell them it’s RM500 for long-time and RM300 for short-time.”

“What is long-time and short-time?”

“Long-time means until 6 a.m. Doesn’t matter what time we start. Short-time is just 3 hours.”

“Did your friend tell her what you had to do for the customers?”

“She said just do what I would do with my boyfriend. But she said there are a few basic rules: only go to a hotel – no houses, make sure the customers bathe first and always use a condom. She said never carry condoms because that is evidence. The customers will find their own condoms. Most important of all, she said, was to ask for the money first.”

“Did you agree immediately?”

“No. I took the whole week. I thought about what I could use the money for. Maybe start a small business or support myself while I studied further. I thought my future was more important.”

“Were you scared? I mean having to do this with strangers?”

“I could not think about it. As long as I’m safe, I don’t get any disease and I don’t get hurt, I’ll be happy enough.”

“So what happened next?”

“After I said yes, I quit my job. I already had a passport so one week later I was in KL. That was two weeks ago.”

….. to be continued

One Night Under the Neon Lights

2006-06-26T01:53:00.000+08:00

Was she crying? I peeked at the rear mirror and I could see that she looked sad. It was dark but I was sure I could see some tears welling up in her eyes.

“Cik ni takde apa-apa ke?”, I asked.

“Sorry. I’m from the Philippines. I don’t understand Malay”, she said.

“Are you OK?” I asked again.

A long silence. And she finally said, “Actually I’m not. I had a very bad experience before I took your taxi.”

I tried to guess what it was. I picked her up at 3 a.m. outside Crown Regency, a service apartment off Jalan Pinang. She’s dressed, well, in a rather desirable manner. I’ve picked up and sent female passengers from and to that place before. If they are Thai or Filipina, invariably they would be working girls. I’m sure my current passenger is not any different. But I’m not passing any judgment. Like me, they are just trying to make a living.

“Sometimes it helps to talk to someone about it. If you need advice I could help or introduce you to someone who could.” I offered.

“I’m too ashamed to tell you. I think you can already guess what I do already.” She surmised.

“Listen. I pick up all kinds of passengers. I don’t pass judgment on anyone.” I explained, trying to lessen any embarrassment, if she had any.

Earlier, she asked me to send her to a shophouse in Pandan Indah. I told her, “There’s a mamak shop around the corner where you stay. I need a tea break. You can keep me company and tell me your problem if you want.”

She stared outside for about 2 minutes and then said, “OK”.

We then took a table and I recommended her to have a teh tarik halia like what I was ordering. She just nodded.

“Not many taxi drivers speak good English like you”, she started. “Have you always been a taxi driver?”

“No I have not. But that is long story.” I answered. “So what happened?”

“You are a taxi driver so I guess you know what happens in the Beach Club right?”, she said. “I’m one of the Filipina ‘tourists’ who work there.”

“How’s business?” I asked, trying very hard to sound matter-of-fact.

“Maybe you think we make lots of money. Actually we don’t. I still owe my mama-san lots of money. I only keep enough to cover living expenses”, she explained.

Now I was intrigued. I always wonder about how the business is done. I have always assumed that these Filipinas and Thais were ‘freelancers’. Since they seem to work on their own, I thought they would come here on the pretext of a holiday, make as much money as they can and go home. And they keep all they make for themselves. I guess not.

“Tell me how you came here”, I queried. “Oh I forgot. I’m Din. What’s your name?”

She said, “Nice to meet you Din. I’m Mika.”

........ To be continued

You talking to me or the other me?

2006-06-23T11:08:00.000+08:00

PEEEEEEEEEEETTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!

“Oiii !!!! LESEN BELI KA PUNDEK????!!!”

I looked back, I saw a Pak Lebai giving me the finger salute. WTF! Aren’t you suppose to practice the ‘sabar separuh dari iman’ thingy?

I think I am starting to stereotype our Malaysian drivers. The 2 weeks being a cabbie, I found out that the Pak Lebais are one of the worst drivers of the lot. They have no road courtesy, abusive and arrogant.They just cut in whenever they want, (belajar belajar lah pakai signal tu Pak Cik!) And when we honk, out comes the finger.

They preach about this and that, but once they are behind the wheels, they turn into some creatures from hell. I won’t be surprise if they have baseball bats or worse, AK47s rested next to their seats.

This also proves my theory that there are two sides in each person. Even Botak Chin was an Angel to some. Robin Hood – Outlaw to some but a Saint to others. I bet Mother Theresa had some awesome bitching sessions as well.

These dual personalities makes a person interesting, don’t you think so?

We need to talk

2006-06-22T11:11:00.000+08:00

“We need to talk.” she said as soon as they entered my cab.

“About what?” the male passenger replied.

“Don’t make that ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ face, you know what I mean.” I sense there’s a bit of anger in her voice.

Hello! I may be a cab driver, but I do have ears …

From what I gathered, the bloke got himself in trouble after having a chat with a lass who was sitting next to them when they were having dinner. The girl happened to be his old college sweetheart. The lass was a bit of a touchy-feely kind. The wife felt threatened.

I don’t think there’s any harm there. He even introduced the girl to the wife. I don't think he did any moves but if he did, he’s moron of the highest order. The wife should just blast the other woman, but then she’ll look stupid doing so. The easiest way to release the boiling anger was to blame it on the husband.

Poor man, whichever way he tried to defend himself, the wife still finds him guilty. There were stories that went back when there were still courting.

… “We need to talk … “ ................ run away !!!!!.

One day near KBU

2006-06-21T23:22:00.000+08:00

Yesterday while doing my rounds in Bandar Utama, a girl in her teens flagged me down as I was approaching KBU. My best bet was that she’s a student at the college, with all the bags and the files she was carrying with her.

As soon as she boarded my cab, she made a quick phone call. “I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

From the rear view mirror, I watched her. I was astounded with her beauty. But a wee bit too young for me. I wouldn’t know what kind of conversation I would have if I go on a date with her. We are from a different era. I can’t even talk music with her (since they say music is a universal language). I was from the New Wave and Rock and Roll era and she comes from the Hip Hop and Grange genre.

As soon as we passed the traffic lights near One Utama, she made another quick call. “Are you sure it’s safe? I miss you so much”. Aaahh … a romantic escapade in between classes!

When we reached the house, a man whom I thought was her father was waiting for her at the porch. He pressed those remote things that made the front gate went ‘Open Sesame’. He greeted her with opened arms. They hugged they kiss and they went inside the house. I got it wrong this time, couldn’t be the father. Fathers don’t kiss their daughters like that!

It really makes me wonder, how the hell do these people meet? What do they talk about? And how would his approach be … “hey you’re cute, you’re young … I am old rich and I have 5 grandchildren … would you like to be my mistress?”

What a life

2006-06-21T01:47:00.000+08:00

It’s 10 am, and I am still at home. Sipping my coffee and reading the newspaper. Such a life I am having now.

But this wasn’t the case 2 months ago.

I was a slave … I was a Zombie … I was a walking corpse.

My existence was dictated by a piece of paper with some long gone Agung's picture on it. Everything was about where I stood in the society.

I don’t want to be that man anymore. I want to enjoy life. Do things as I please. I’m glad I took this decision.

It’s close to 11 am, I should go now – I think I’ll do the Taman Tun / Damansara Jaya / Damasara Utama / Bandar Utama / Mutiara Damansara route today.

A MasterCard Moment

2006-06-20T02:03:00.000+08:00

A passenger wanted to go to Kayu Nasi Kandar restaurant in SS2 to watch the World Cup match there. He told me that he and his mates were all out to cheer for Brazil (would you cheer for the Socceroos? Well unless you're stupid or an Oz).

It was my break time, so I’ve decided to stop there for my hourly Teh Tarik.

The place was packed with football fanatics from all walks of life. What amazed me most was how football brought these people together.

It must’ve been a MasterCard Moment when I saw this bloke who’s been smoking those RM200 a piece Cohiba Cigar hugging what seems to me like an Indonesian builder who has been puffing his Sampoerna A when Adriano scored the first goal for Brazil.

You won’t see this anywhere else!

The Beginning

2006-06-19T20:26:00.000+08:00

They said I’ve gone coo-coo. You be the judge.

I’ve done it all. I’ve had business cocktail with the Leaders of the Industry, had afternoon whisky with Royalties whilst watching cricket from the Terrace and went clubbing with the Rock Stars.

I quit my 6-figure (ANNUAL) income job last month.

And now … I’m a cab Driver.

My new life begins here…and here's my journal!