Just as the most gorgeous of fog was burnt off by the prettiest of sunrises,.. a call out to the base... picking up a Rear Admiral and a Brigadier General out front to the Officer's mess to be delivered to the Train Station... Good dudes, both younger than me (yikes); one had grown up in Trenton, the other, stationed there for his three...

They got my standard "thank you for your service" spiel... the spiel I give, every chance I get to the service men I meet.... the firemen, cops n' soldiers et all who toil away in harms way on our behalf.
A pleasant conversation with a couple of guys humbled enough to seemingly know their rank was as much PR as it was a definition of their leadership (which I'd never put to question)... both had served "over seas" which I come to find these days, seems to be code for having served in Afghanistan. These past few years, I've not met a military man who hasn't... (The Woodstock syndrome? I doubt it).

Good guys... no tip... it happens.

Later today, a dream call... rather than driving an empty cab back from dropping a fare all the way past Treasure Island, I was again called into the base... another railroader delivery... this time a Captain in for courses designed to help him advance to Major (way way younger than me, this guy)...

The standard thank-you spiel led to his interest in telling me how he'd been to NYC a few times... mostly to attend that Electronic Music Fest they hold out on Randall's Island each year... a "three day" I never made it to (sadness overcomes me? not really)... We jib-jabbered on about this DJ n' that... the scene's we'd seen over the years... His shining-star moment was organizing an Afghan-leave to dance to some spinners in Cote d'azur (who knew this service I'd been thanking these guys for could be so... "cool man")

We turned into VIA just as we were agreeing on how peaceful and respectful the vibe at all those parties had been... I suggest that he give Bedouin a listen, I think he might...

Good guy... ten dollar tip... it happens.

It's funny how little the military presence is felt in this town. A town where the harbor is essentially a strung out fortress and there appears to be a cannon on every corner... I look forward to the next foggy sunrise lit gorgeous morning I'm called to service our service men and women... good guys put into uniform service... it happens.

Thanks guys!

The long-time locals do so like to grumble when "the kids" return to this litlle limestone college town. I've only been through it twice, it IS quite the event... an adventure even.

The other day I was having what may just be the best (in terms of business) day I may ever have in CAR 29. Call after call, drop off n' pick ups, one right after the other... each one just ahead of the last, all headed in the same right direction... forward motion swirls around n around this preciously littlest of cities...

I picked up a fare downtown, dropped 'em near the Kingston Shopping Centre... picked up a fare just down along the Bath Road golden mile and drop 'em at the Riocan. The next pick up, just across the street, Progress heading out and into the Days Road area... bing, bing, bing... cha-ching.

While zipping along Bath towards the Riocan, out and up Gardiner, I notice a larger than usual plane coming into the airport that, until recently I never believed existed... (I made a mental note). After dropping the next fare off beyond Days, near what passes for Bayridge around these parts... I think a busy thought to myself, well... I may as well push on along westward, a little further out and see who and how many get off that plane... (an opportunity to learn how to work the airport stand)...

...a long line of "little kids" each with more baggage than one would ever have imagined. Oh right, it's move in day, I've heard stories... horror stories... AVOID ZONE 6 (avoid the campus) at ALL COST! ('cause, it'll cost ya)

My guy in line is a fresh young thing. Still bouncy after a full night's flight from Calgary to Toronto then onto the Norman Roger's none too International Airport n' flyin' club... All wide eyed and a little, maybe nervous... Definitely on the verge of the next big thing that'll ever happen to him.

As we pull out onto Front Street (at this point, think road rather than street, country road at that)... as we pull out and roll along the road that runs along the lake and get that first windswept n' white caps shoreline view, my little guy literally explodes with joy... lets out a bit of a wow-ishy boy-like screamie little squeaking noise... "Have you visited Kingston before?" ...he'd only been here once, in the dead of Winter for an orientation weekend... chitter chatter... whatcha studyin', bits of personal history n' all that fill the ho hum gaps by the old n' gorgeous Dupont monstrosity... I can see the thrill n' wonder on his face straight out through these freshly grown "backseat eyeballs"... on the back of my head.

When we break past the last lakefront house along the King Street shore, where the view opens up at that lakeshore park... he gasps for air... I've already asked him were he'll be living, Morris Hall, I have him turn his head just a little to the left, opposite this view... "You'll be living right there..." – Lets just say, this news made the ensuing 45 minute of the snarled traffic that snaked through the campus this of all morning, move in morning, a way lot easier! ...Queens University really does have a stunner of a campus!

Grumble?

Oh sure they're drunken idiots, they make a big mess, throw beer bottles all over the place and light things that shouldn't really be burned on fire. Many have this sense of entitlement, maybe an over-confidence especially when travelling in packs. They're dreadfully young, way under dressed for any weather goofy annoying and loud.., but...

Their yet to be weighed down by the day by day still not bridaled, and unchecked enthusiasm! I must say... I find it bloody well infectious.

Welcome to Kingston boneheads! I still kinda know how you feel.

[...later that week I picked up four of the female variety of this species, all hung over n' giggly, way too made up and like, you know... gawd they make me laugh, smile and make this pleasant job that much more... wonderful]

"CAR 29" (go ahead car 29) "Is Morven on the meter?" (repeat car 29) "...is Morven on the meter?" (car 29, don't speak so closely into the mic) "...is Morven on the meter, the city... er town of Morven?" (car 29 is your mic off the hook, put it back on the hook) "...got it, I have a fair, says she takes a cab to Morven daily, on the meter" (Morven is on the meter car 29)... (more on this fare later)... for now... this fare...

...this so far seems to be a pretty much routine job with the opportunity for pleasant surprises. The other day I was hangin' in ZONE 2 (most likely at the wrong time of day... more on this later). A call comes over the "dispatch lottery machine" (more on this later)... pick up on Thomas Street (street names changed and numbers to be omitted for the purpose of privacy)... Destination... UNKNOWN.

Of course, given the vicinity of the pickup, I'm already (even just one day of training into this job) thinking it'll be another trip to the methadone clinic on Hickson (possibly, more on this, later)... A rough lookin' youngster, pony tailed in construction clothing meets me on the street... "Kingston Solar Farm, Zone 2... out on Unity Road"... Imagine my confusion... (I tippy type Unity Road into my GPS, to no avail)... As with most of my fares, the good people of the city of Kingston are more than happy to assist me in completing my training in my knowledge of getting around this place where... I kinda know where everything IS, I just don't know what everything is CALLED (just yet).

So... my first full morning... a pleasant AND pretty surprise. A way north of the (relative) hustle and bustle of this little limestone 'burg we go... SHEEP... look up!

(and away we go) (oh... and when CAR 29 and I return... we stopped in at the CAT Centre... just to look at the clouds ...and to see what ZONE 14 is like