Monday Cab Fun

Dear Readers, It’s been a long time since the lab cab speculation-info dump. Too long. Without further ado, let’s speculate.

Here’s a two-for-one Cab photo special, and both cab names have a decent alcohol connotation. First, Absolute Cab, which presumably is the third cab in the telephone book (right after Aardvark Cab (great name, too) and ABC Cab). Absolute is a very strong word, evoking the idea that you’re absolutely going to get where you want to. And Absolute Cab might make you chuckle if you’re inebriated (“heh, I was just drinking Absolut, bro”). But Captain Cab is better. In addition to referencing the Captain Morgan Rum spokesperson, Captains are leaders – they’re at the helm – and stand firm against torrential seas. Perhaps the same individual who who owns Sea Cab owns Captain Cab. If so, he’s a sailor. And a good one. Mark my words.

Frequent Vegas visitor M-wife snapped a picture of Desert Cab in, fittingly, Las Vegas. Me? I love Las Vegas, partly because it is fun as fun can be, but mostly because there’s liberty and opportunity, as well as all of their consequences, good and bad, everywhere you look. To illustrate, Vegas’ mayor is sponsored . . . by Bombay Sapphire gin. By contrast, New York is considering prohibiting restaurants from seasoning food with salt, strongly indicating that American society is not worth its salt. With that said, Desert Cab is a fairly snazzy name (and it’s certainly appropriate). In hopes that Vegas has fleets of uniquely named Cabs, I’m commissioning a team of photographers to visit Vegas later this month to canvas the strip and airport (always a veritable gold mine for Cabs) to search for presumptive gems such as Venetian Cab (no ways that’s copyright infringement), Pyramid Cab (has a cousin in San Diego, the Nile cab (note: spotted Blue Nile Cab recently), or Sands Cab (referencing Vegas’ soil structure as well as a Vegas icon). Come on Vegas, don’t let us down. We’re feeling lucky. How about Craps Cab? That’d be a sweet one.

It should come as no surprise that Surf Ride Cab is (apparently) on its way to Mission Bay. According to the San Diego County Government website, Mission Bay is “a perfect spot for everyone from wind surfers to water skiers,” since Mission Bay “offers boat docks and launching facilities, sailboat and motor rentals, bike/walk paths, basketball courts, and playgrounds for children” and is “one of San Diego’s most fun-filled spots to visit.” Me thinks, however, that “Surf or Ride Cab” would be a better name than “Surf Ride Cab” because it’d be a funny take on the the Surf MC’s 1987 classic Surf or Die, which you can listen to at http://tinyurl.com/2ezykts (@2:20 to see a surfer take a hacksaw to a vintage, yellow skateboard).

I possess a particularly deep appreciation for the cab driver who christened his cab USA Freedom Cab. I think I like USA Freedom Cab better than “Libertarian Cab,” which is a cab name “so awesome I think I may have just crapped.” (Ed note: If you spot Libertarian Cab and get a picture, I will buy you a beer and a shot at Stout.) If I had fuck you money I’d buy a fleet of cabs and give them names such as “Cato the Younger Cab,” “Nat Turner Cab,” and “Cicero Cab,” and give discounts to customers who could identify the individual my cab is named for and cogently discuss that individual’s enduring socio-political impact. Maybe I could setup a video camera, record our conversations, and send in the really dumb ones to Jay Leno for his Jaywalking (watch that clip, btw). Hey, Leno could use a ratings boost. What’s certain about USA Freedom Cab is that no two-bit teenage punks would dare ditch the cab fare and beat up its driver. If you tried that, USA Freedom Cab’s steely-eyed driver would threaten to castrate you with his metal bill of rights (that he picked up at the Penn & Teller show in Vegas (hey, that’s where I got mine)), take your wallet, extract the proper cab fare plus tip, and tell you to get the hell out of Dodge, or else. Of course you’d feel compelled to say “You’re a hard man,” and he’d reply “it’s a hard country.” Then he’d drive off into the sunset, and you’d be wondering, among other things, how the hell he didn’t even drop his cigarette.