It’s obvious that she’s the professional in this situation.
“How fast can you get us back there?” she asks.
“I only go one speed,” I say.
“Well, go faster than that.”
It’s 3 a.m. The streets are gloriously free of traffic. As I’m heading back to Public Works, a man waves me down at 15th and South Van Ness. He isn’t going far, no doubt on his way home from work, when the last few blocks can feel like torture. I pull up to his place on Folsom just as the meter hits $5.15.
“Give me $5,” I tell him.
He hands me a $20. “Make it $10.”
While I’m sifting through my wad of bills, a scantily clad woman approaches my cab and tries to open the back door.
“¡Pinche puta!” the man shouts and slams the door shut.
She looks at me imploringly through the window. I hand the man his change. He exits, spewing more insults in Spanish.
“You don’t have to be rude, Chubby,” the woman says before asking me, “Can we get a ride?”
Beside her is a young Latino carrying a plastic bag in the shape of a 12-pack.
“Sure. Where to?”
“Balboa Park,” the guy slurs. Then he asks me to play music and cracks open a beer.
Read the rest here.
One of the first responses to this column after the Examiner posted it on Twitter was critical of using the word “prostitute.” The person suggested it had negative connotations and I should have used “sex worker” instead.
My first reaction was, isn’t this how Trump got elected? Then I thought, Well, I guess my working title: “The drunk Mexican and the wary hooker” was definitely too insensitive. But prostitute?
Ultimately, this is how I responded.
Perhaps there is still hope for civil communication on the internet.