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Thursday, February 23, 2006


From Maui News about the guy who rammed my cab.


And nowhere to go.

Another gorgeous Mau'i sunset, (click to enlarge)

as we queue up. Waiting to take somebody somewhere. (click photo)


On one of my early runs last night I took a sweet family to the airport. The were from Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada. Dad told this joke:
Setting, mid-Atlantic in the 18th century, aboard a merchant vessel.
Suddenly a pirate vessel is sighted. After assessing the situation the captain turned to his first mate and said "Mate I want you to go to my cabin and fetch me my red shirt." The mate did as ordered. The pirate ship was engaged in battle and defeated by the merchant ship.

The next day TWO pirate ships were spotted and again the captain ordered his mate to fetch him his red shirt. The bad guys were engaged and the merchant ship prevailed in battle.

At dinner that night, the mate asked the captain why he always wanted his red shirt just before a battle. "I wear a red shirt so that if I am wounded in battle my crew will not be able to see the blood from my wounds and thus will fight to win.

The following day the sea in front of them was filled with hundreds of pirate ships, stretching from horizon to horizon. The captain turned to his first mate and ordered, "mate, go to my cabin and fetch me my brown pants."


Later I had a few dinner runs. Then, at 10:30pm, it died. Went home for about 1-1/2 hours to kick back. Came back out for the bar close. Had a lot of runs during the overnight, including another airport run. Overall, a pretty decent night.


On a friday night early last autumn, I made a closing time pickup from Tsunami's. Three young men, crew members of the cruise ship "Pride of Aloha", and took them back to the harbor. The two guys sitting next to the doors were quiet and reflective of the night's fun. The one in the center was trying to impress them with how tough he was. Kept saying he was a "homeboy" from Compton, CA. This went on for 12 miles. The more he talked, the more aggitated he became. He definately had consumed something more than alcohol during the night. Suddenly, he lunged over the seat and grabbed the steering wheel. It was a life or death struggle for control of the car. I reached down and grabbed my mag-lite, which is always against my right hip, and smashed him in the mouth 4 times, as hard as I could, until he released the wheel. He fell back into the rear seat, bleeding from the nose and mouth and missing his front teeth. I cussed him out in my best "Irish" and told him and his buddies that if he even moved I was going to pull to the side of the road, yank him out of the car, break both his legs and arms and leave him in a sugar cane field to rot. And to cover his face with his shirt, since I didn't want any blood on the velour seats. Ten minutes later I dropped them off at the ship. Got paid, with a nice tip included, from the "quiet boys". As I pulled away, the two nice kids looked at their buddy and walked away. You don't screw with Deputy Dawg.


Update on Nathaniel "Bobo" Russell, the guy who rammed my cab back in 2003. He was formally sentenced this week to 5 years in prison.
Then the Feds get him for 20 years after that.

Correction on the quanity of "ice" he was caught with. It was 6 pounds, not 64, as I typoed earlier.

Have a great day. Lets see what tomorrow brings.

Wil =8^))
"Let's all be careful out there"