The Ho

Time:  12:37 AM

Day:    Wednesday

Fare:   $6

Tip:     $2

Passengers: 2 females – early 20s

After a fairly tame evening, I got a call for a pick-up from the Canmore Hotel (one of the busiest bars in Canmore, aka: The Ho).  The Ho has a younger demographic than any of the other bars in Canmore.  More often than not, the party spills out onto the street and the tenuous line between jubilance and fray entwined in any large group of inebriates is on display.  When I get a call for a pick-up from the Ho, it can be a bit of a fiasco to get the right person into the cab.  This night however, I was pleasantly surprised, by how quickly they loaded up.

-       Are you Katy?

-       Yep

-       Alright, hop in.  How’s your night going?

-       Mi neight wuz real goood.  Hur neightT?... natasgoood…

-       Oh no, that’s too bad.  Can’t win them all I guess.

-       We met a guy on da tstreeet, hiss mame was Furbo.  Is dat a drugg deelers ‘ mame?

-       Yeah, sounds like it to me.

-       Neeways, sshes av’n sumboy trooblez Furbo seemedd tuu bee a gud pursen soo I axedim to geeve hur sum boytips  Hee didn’t tho so we r goin ome.

-       What kind of boy troubles are we talking about?  Maybe I can help out.

-       Yeea u seem ike u wood naw wat to do so she met a boy onligne

-       DOUGHN’T TELL’M THAT!

-       Wat?! Sory, ‘s part o wat ‘appens whan I drinc. So she net dis boy onligne ‘nd day av’nt ssceen eech oder in ttree weaeks. Schee raly liiks ‘im dough. Wat schoould chee do? I tink dat ‘f u real ‘ike sumbady u kneed to ‘ell ‘em, n try to get bakk wid dem. Wat do u ‘tink.

-       Yeah, that sounds like good advice to me, although you might want to sleep on it before you make any decisions…or phone calls…or texts.

-       Woowu, ur a grat cab diver. U now cab dicers r kindaj ‘ike modern ‘ay barteenders do gud at geev’n advice.  U r reel grate. Narmallie I taak Apex cabs, buut cuz a u, I’m goona tak ‘ougar reek cabs now.

-       Glad I could help out.

-       Yeeh, ‘m praty gud normuly fur daadvice, but ‘m a lil fdroonk rite now. ‘ow lon ‘ave u bean divin’ cabs fur?

-       This is my third week driving cab.

-       Wooow! ‘nd ur alredy dis gud?

-       Hehehe, yeah I guess so.

Awkward/drunk silence ensues. Katy, the passenger without the boy troubles was sitting in the front seat, and hasn’t taken her eyes off me since we left The Ho.

-       Well, here we are.  That’ll be 6 bucks.

-       ‘ears sum honey.

Even in the best of times, the moody idiosyncrasies of the sliding doors in cougar creek cabs are enough to trump efforts by the most clearheaded teetotaler.  As I leaned over, and reached behind the passenger seat to help the boy-troubled backseat passenger, I glanced at Katy.  Her eyes - shut, her lips – puckered, and she was listing heavily in my direction.  Apparently someone was looking for more than just a cab ride. I dodged right, unlatched the door, and cleared my throat all at once.  It amazes me how the most embarrassing of moments can be so easily brushed off when well lubricated with alcohol.  Katy, un-phased, gathered her purse, fumbled her way out the door, then turned towards me and waved goodbye with the muster of a Marine Land dolphin.