Pin It

Weekend Fun & Games 

Well, it was a typically busy Burlington weekend. End Time is approaching for the students, and they were out partying in numbers, final exams be damned.

As Saturday night rushed towards last call, I began thinking, "Wow, I'm doing pretty good tonight; let's see if I can finish up with a flourish." Can you jinx yourself with thoughts? I wonder . . .

My next fare was a guy from Wolcott and his gynormous friend, who immediately passed out next to him, like Jabba the Hutt in repose. So, all the way to Little Eagle Bay (formerly "985 North Avenue," much less sexy) my entire discussion was with the Wolcott fellow. I have an affection for Wolcott. To me, it's like the heart of Vermont - tucked in there, humbly, in the Northeast Kingdom. My wife lived in North Wolcott for a spell many years ago, and, in 2001, I drove my brother to a home in that town where he bought a nifty little Toyota, which is still running strong.

Anyway, just as we pulled to a stop, Jabba, snoozing there in the back seat, opened wide his baby blues and, in the next instant, the projectile vomit was all over the back of my seat, the top of my jacket, my hat and the steering wheel.

"Sorry," he said.

"Get your friend out of the cab," I said to the Wolcott person.

It's like a volcano, I figured. One eruption may just be the beginning. Although I was fuming (there's no excuse for this behavior unless you're 15 and it's your first time getting drunk), nothing I could say would remove the vomit from my clothing and vehicle and return it to the insides of the offender where it rightfully belonged. So, I just took a twenty buck tip, accepted the profuse apologies from both of them, and rushed to the carwash.

A half-hour later, this is what my taxi smelled like:  A heady blend of cleaning fluid, air freshener and vomit. How lovely is that?

One final reflection, slightly random as it is:  At Cumby's, I searched out the green, pine-scented, tree-shaped car deoderant. They were out of that flavor, so I bought the "new car" scent. Where the "new car" scent arises from in an actual new car is a mystery to me. But, darn if that little air freshener didn't have my old buggy smelling just like it was direct from the showroom. That is, if someone had already vomited into it in the showroom.

Wow, this was a pleasant posting . . .

Got something to say? Send a letter to the editor and we'll publish your feedback in print!

Pin It

More by Jernigan Pontiac

About The Author

Jernigan Pontiac

Jernigan Pontiac

Jernigan Pontiac is a Burlington cab driver whose biweekly "Hackie" column has been appearing in Seven Days since 2000. He has published two book-length collections, Hackie: Cab Driving and Life, and Hackie 2: Perfect Autumn.

Speaking of Yo Hackie Blog


Subscribe to this thread:

Add a comment

Seven Days moderates comments in order to ensure a civil environment. Please treat the comments section as you would a town meeting, dinner party or classroom discussion. In other words, keep commenting classy! Read our guidelines...

Note: Comments are limited to 300 words.

Latest in Hackie

Social Club

Like Seven Days contests and events? Join the club!

See an example of this newsletter...

Keep up with us Seven Days a week!

Sign up for our fun and informative

All content © 2016 Da Capo Publishing, Inc. 255 So Champlain St Ste 5, Burlington, VT 05401
Website powered by Foundation