Note: This is a continuation from Halloween's Barfly Chronicle<>
After we finished up our Gluhkriek, Janet and I decided to just walk home and get some sleep. Unfortunately, the fates decided that sleep was not in the card for us. As we were walking towards our apartment, we happened to bump into Jocelyn, Paul and Shadee, standing in the rain… trying to hail a cab.

The cab situation in San Francisco is horrible. Factor in a holiday in which everybody is out on the streets after drinking for hours and hours and a little bit of rain, there is no chance of just catching a cab on the street. So, we decided to be the benevolent hosts and told the three of them that they could come to our place and we would call a cab.

2:10am – Called Yellow Cab, got a busy. Called Luxor cab, got a busy. Called every other cab company in San Francisco… got busies. Then, we remembered that we had a business card from a jitney cab driver, so I decided to give him a call. You see, in San Francisco, there are two types of hired cab licenses: taxicabs, which are for cars that you can hire on the street and jitney cabs, which are like limos – where you have to pre-arrange the route before getting into the cab. The major difference is that with Jitney Cabs, you pre-set the rate… you don't get charged by the minute/mile. So, I called Mr. Joe Do from TLC Limos, and asked him for a pickup. He told me that he would be here in 40 minutes.

2:50am – No Joe. Called and got his voicemail. Left a message and paged him.

3:00am – Still no Joe. Started calling cab companies again. Got ahold of Luxor Cabs, who informed us that the cab would be there in 20 minutes.

3:20am – Paul and Shadee are asleep on the couch. No Joe, no Luxor. I called Luxor and asked them to check on the cab. They tell me that it is on its way.

3:40am – Still no Luxor Cab. Called the cab company again, to find out that they supposedly sent two cabs over and that nobody answered the door. I insisted that nobody ever came. They inform me that they will not send out another cab.

3:42am – Janet goes down and checks the door buzzer. It works.

3:45am – Called National Cab company. They informed us that it would be about a half of an hour. We wake up Paul and Shadee and all go out to wait for the cab.

4:00am – Jocelyn flags down a cab and they leave. I call National Cab and they profusely thank me for calling to cancel and apologize that they couldn't make it here earlier.

The scowly moral of the story: Luxor cabs suck. Royally. I'll never use them again. Also, Joe Do can go blow.
The smirky moral of the story: National Cabs rule… good phone presence, nice customer service. I'll certainly use them again.

I could never whistle when I was little, except maybe through my teeth until I got them fixed, but that's not the reason why I find people who whistle in public – especially in elevators – exquisitely annoying. Would they talk to themselves in public? Sing to themselves? Is it that they are so full of joy that they must share it with each and every one of us? They don't even whistle songs that are easily recognizable, or even real, for that matter. And while we're on the subject of elevators, why, why, oh why must some people stand directly in front of an elevator so that when it gets to the lobby and opens and I want to get out, there are inevitably 3 or 4 people rushing on at the same time like I'm not even there, as if the elevator was attached to a giant elastic band and would somehow ricochet right back up to the 22nd floor once all the passengers got out? And once inside the elevator, isn't it proper elevator etiquette to stand facing the front of the elevator? I'm thinking that I may have missed the memo on this one, because all of a sudden everyone's standing facing the center of the elevator except for me.

Then there's that whole "the man should let the woman should get off first even though she's in the very back of the elevator behind seven people" thing, which always turns into an awkward situation because 1&#41 I would rather follow people than be followed; 2&#41 not every guy does it, so you have to kind of play that guessing game where you kind of wait, and he waits, because god dammit, the woman's gonna get out first, then you wait, because you don't want to get out first, then you just say "fuck it" and try to get out, and so does he and meanwhile the elevator is just eternally sitting there at the floor in question; and 3&#41 some men tend to make the biggest, grandest sweeping-of-the-arms deal about holding the door for you to process through, and god help you if there happen to be two of these types of men, each holding a side of the elevator doors as if you were the Queen of England or Madonna or something. I really don't think that all this elevator chivalry is necessary in this day and age. How about this logical plan: the person closest to the door gets out first, the next closest, second, and so on? &nbsp