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Mexi-meltdown
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9/20/2006
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When I arrived in Los Angeles last week, the first order of bidness was to get to the hotel. The first shuttle driver I asked said something that sounded vaguely like "blue van", so I found a blue van and stood while the driver talked with a Hispanic man who looked a little frustrated.
The man's wife and two kids were sitting in the van, and the back of the van was packed full of luggage. I mean full. Like Grapes of Wrath full. Because there were so many bags, the driver was trying to explain that there was an up-charge to take the shuttle, as no more passengers could fit in the van.
They went back and forth for a few minutes, and I gathered that the price had gone from $35 to $44 for a trip into town. Both of these prices were lower than the cost of a cab, so I didn't see many options for this guy.
"Why you charge me 9 more dollars?!" He angrily demanded.
"Sir, because...just a second, I have my supervisor on the line. Let me see what he says."
"It is only four people. My family. You have two more row seats! You put other people there and we go 35 dollar! Done!" *waving everybody aboard the van as if he is now running the show*
"See, we don't have room for the other peoples' bags..."
"They hold them! Now we go!" *motioning once again to the rest of us to climb aboard because we looked like we all wanted to hold our bags in our laps on a trip through Los Angeles in a crowded bus. At 4:45 on a Friday afternoon. With Comandante Furioso Yelling at the driver.*
"Well, we can't do that because it is not legal. My supervisor said we have to charge you the $44 fare."
I don't think that the supervisor was really on the phone, but the driver was about the most patient person I have ever seen. In a few minutes there were ten more people waiting with me, all exchanging confused looks and wondering when it would be our turn.
One of the most irritating things I can witness is someone spending time and making themselves and others stand around while they bicker over a few dollars. This is not because I am rich, as I assure you that I am not. It is because making your family suffer in a hot van while ten other people stand on the sidewalk holding their bags because you are being charged the price that is on the huge damn sticker on the side of the van- well, that whole situation just has to end for the good of humanity.
While the driver was on the phone, I handed the pissed off guy $10 and told him to go. In hindsight, it might have been less offensive to have just given the money to the driver and let the guy think he had won the argument, but I make mistakes like that all the time.
"Sir? Take this and go."
"What? I don't pay the money! That man is cheating!"
"Don't yell at me. Take the money and go. You are holding all of these people up, and it's not worth our time. Just go. Pay me back next time."
Then the driver turned back and asked if they were going to go. To my relief, the man took the bill and said "fine".
Then he grabbed another bag and a collapsible stroller that had been sitting behind the bench. Another sticker on the van said that additional bags were $3 each, and that was quickly pointed out to our friend Angry Gonzales, who promptly flipped right out. I seriously thought he was going to deck the driver.
He barked an order in Spanish to his family, who slowly got out of the van, and he opened the back doors and started piling his luggage onto one of those rolling baggage carts. As the pile got higher, the cart started rolling almost imperceptibly toward the curb. I was telling the driver where I needed to go and I caught the motion out of the corner of my eye and made a move to stop it, but it was too late. The front wheel of the cart went over the curb, spilling all of his bags into the street. This event could only be compared to the failure of the New Orleans levies in its unleashitude of havoc.
The gentleman's anger spun up to a point where it transcended reality, spanning both time and space. I had an image of Baby Jesus playing with the mobile of the three wise men that hung above his crib so many centuries ago, stopping suddenly, having a brief instant of complete comprehension, and beginning to cry. 20 years in the future I imagined myself charismatically addressing trillions from my nipple-encrusted castle on the moon from which I rule the universe- uncharacteristically pausing as a shiver runs up my spine-for the briefest moment causing my concubines to halt the fanning of the palm fronds, but then getting right back to the business of being awesome...
Dude was so unbelievably pissed that I was afraid to offer to help him pick up his bags. He was screaming in Spanish and went out in the street, almost being clipped by a cab, and just started hurling his bags toward the curb. He gave the collapsible stroller a fling, and we all watched in horror as it hit his eight year old daughter pretty squarely in the head. She was okay. No blood or anything, but she started crying, which made the man's wife start yelling at him, and holy shit, things were about as headed downhill as they could get. I was probably the only one who really believed that he was going to start disemboweling people with his mind, but I was convinced it was only a matter of time.
Nobody knew what to do other than watch in silence and maybe blog about it later. I briefly wondered what hilarity would ensue if I tried to ask for my $10 back. I was not presently trying to scoop my entrails back into my abdomen and didn't see any reason to change that, so I let him keep it. Maybe he'd get home however he got home and find a surprise ten spot in his pocket tonight and be happy. Maybe not.
An hour later I was the last to be dropped off at my hotel. The driver was quite understanding when I was $5 short on my shuttle fare. In fact, he appreciated my patience so much that he didn't charge me for the ride to the ATM.
 Dusty
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posted by Dusty at 8:33 AM |
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8 Comments:
Snaps to you for your patience as well as your attempt at oiling the troubled waters. Also for the clarity of your communication about the whole scene, it almost felt like we were all there with you. Don't you just wish you could speak spanish though just for the fun of listening to Senor Furioso going right off his brain.
Hope the rest of your stay in my hometown was enjoyable, or at least somewhat bearable. Adios!
I'm a Conflict Management consultant based in South Africa (and religious reader of your blog).
Take it from me, what you've described happens more often than you might think. It also proves something I continually tell my clients: that you can't even BEGIN to solve your problems if you're not in a rational state of mind.
I'd have given him 10 bucks too!
signed,
girl who inadvertantly learned spanish
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