Learning

A. Sorry about the ongoing prom stories, but it's at an end now. I think last night's was the last, and probably the best.

Arriving at the pick-up address, the mother of the teenage hostess came out to meet me. (That's unusual of itself.) She was perfectly charming. We chatted, then I asked her the question: 

Have you had the alcohol talk with the children? 

I groaned inside when she gave me the these are good kids blarney. When I explained the consequences if I found any one of the sweeties drinking, she came out with the magic words:

Oh, if you have any problems, call me, and I'll come and string them all up.

I laughed and told her that I now knew there would be no trouble, and that they were guaranteed to be good kids.

And so it eventuated. Very nice tip, too, thank you Debbie.

B. Is it odd that I find myself taking photographs of people taking photographs?

Technorati: Hellions, Limousine Life, Prom, String Them Up.

Shy Retiring Flower

We're approaching the end of prom season, thank goodness. Last Friday night I was kept busy with the worst behaved bunch yet, which I put down to them having the least responsible parents yet. 

When I arrive to collect the spawn of these parents' loins, I make a point of asking them if they're aware of our liquor policy. The law is that nobody under twenty-one can imbibe, and if a responsible adult is handy, the blame will likely fall on them. In the case of promsters in a limousine, the responsible adult is me. 

Consequently, if one of our drivers finds the kids drinking or in any way intoxicated, we reserve the right to end the run there and then, with the parents still paying for the minimum six hours. 

Determining how seriously the adults take this is easy. If they say: 

Oh, look, if you see them drinking or doing anything out of line, you call us, and we'll be right there to kill them. We'll be backing you up 100%. 

...you know eveything will be cool. These parents I like. 

But if they say: 

Well, they're good kids. I don't think they will do anything like that. 

...I know there will be problems. And so it turned out. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The quote of the night came from the girl most keen on being a hellion. This she screamed - and I mean really screeched - into her cellphone:

He's my date, he'll do what I want him to do!!!

Such a shy retiring flower that young lady.




Technorati: Hellion, Limousine Life, Prom, Shy Retiring Flower.

Cruising Happy

I was in Tampa this morning, at the port, waiting for my customers who were returning from a cruise.

The disembarkation system is well organized, if only for those onboard. One imagines that in the past they tried allowing folks to leave whenever they chose. Inevitably, everyone would have wanted to leave immediately after the ship docked, creating an unholy mess - imagine three thousand over-fed cruisers passing through a ten-foot gangway all at once. Lawsuit, here we come.

Each cabin has a specific time at which the occupants bid adieu to the Lido Deck, kiss the buffet table good-bye, and head back to terra firma. Unfortunately, we ground transport peons have no way of knowing what that time is for our customers until it's too late, so there is no choice but to be there for the first wave.

Which is fine when they are in amongst the early leavers, but sucky if they're the last. Guess which today's were.

But that's fine. It was a nice morning, getting hot and sticky (and - yay! - rainy) in Florida now, giving me plenty of time to find interesting photographic subjects.

The kvetch factor was pretty high there today, with wives carping at husbands, and parents snarking at their uncommunicative teens. I'm not sure why this day was worse than others, but there were some lighthouses of calm. Like the group above. They had clearly enjoyed their cruise, and let the afterglow of nice linger a while.

Technorati: Cruising, Limousine Life, Afterglow, Ground Transport.

Be Prepared

Over at my What do I tip the driver? lens, Geezer asked me what a good chauffeur should carry.

I rummaged through my work bag, and this is what I found:

~ two bottle openers (crown seal openers, for beer.)

~ three (!) corkscrews, only one of which I recognize as being mine.

~ three white cotton dishcloths for polishing glasses. (I washed them yesterday)

~ paper towel for spills.

~ Band Aids, of which I use an inordinate number, mostly for ladies' heels.

~ gum and breath mints, because a driver with coffee breath is horrid.

~ two Swiss Army knives, but a Leatherman would be really handy.

~ two spray bottles, one of window cleaner and one all purpose cleaner (I use the green products I sell.)

~ one needle and thread (white cotton). (Never used, but someone said it was a good idea to carry some, especially for weddings.)

~ spare pens and paper, mostly because I am the one losing the pens. Smile.

~ three small bottles of hand sanitizer.

~ one spray bottle of air freshener (Fresh Rain Concentrated Mist, which says it is a wonderful way to enhance your mood...or create the perfect atmosphere. No wonder I'm hooked on this stuff like a drug.)

~ OTC pain pills.


That's a pretty comprehensive list, now I look at it. The only things to add would be as many different power cords as I could find for phones and computers. (Suggested, quite forcefully, by a customer who had chewed up the batteries on his three phones and two computers.)

Oh, and maps. I have lots of maps, coz GPS sometimes just doesn't cut it.


Technorati: Chauffeur, Limousine Life, Be Prepared, Customer Service.

Marching Men

Men marching off to war?

Nah. Just another wedding.


Technorati: Groomsmen, Limousine Life, Wedding, Bridegroom.

Tight schedules

Why do people do these things?

Why do they book a flight and then book a Town Car to the airport to catch the flight and then allow only minimum time to get to the airport and then get up late and not actually get into the Town Car until twenty minutes after the pick-up time and then say on the phone to someone else that they want to see how good the driver is at getting them to the airport on time although they are the one who was late and now I have to speed all the way.

Why do people do these things?


Technorati: Chauffeur, Limousine Life, Town Car, People.

Sunny days

It's springtime here in the Tropical Midwest. The Snowbirds have flown their southern coops and returned to Michigan and Indiana. I haven't been to either state, but look forward to doing so. The people from there are all so friendly, they must be good places to visit.

Last night was about as good as it gets for your humble limo driver. A couple from Ohio wanted a ten-passenger for their wedding night. Usually weddings are booked weeks in advance, and they tend to be slightly strained affairs.

This one was different. The couple had their ceremony on the beach, and wanted me only to take them to and from dinner. There was no wedding 'party', no angsty wedding 'planner' and no hassle with shoes, handbags, makeup, bussles, veils, rings, corsages or drunk mothers-in-law.

Chauffeur bliss.

Driving in to the beach club at which the happy couple were staying, I chatted with the celebrant as she drove out. Jennifer said everything was hunky-dory. The exchange of vows (does anyone use this term still?) had gone perfectly, and she had changed their restaurant booking to somewhere more romantic.

Equipped with champagne, the couple came downstairs. They were thirty-something, and as sweet as could be. I took some photos of them in the car, and drove them around for a while before dinner so they could have their fizzy. I'm a snob in these matters, but you can tell a lot from a person's choice of champagne. John got it right; Piper-Heidsieck.

Here's the easy part for me. I drop them at the restaurant, and sneak down the road to get some coffee. I then return to sit outside and read my book. A couple of hours later, the couple return, we drive around for a while, and take them home. It's perfect, because it's not a stupidly late night and the only clean up is two champagne glasses and a vacuum.

Plus the very nice cash tip. I could do this every night and not get tired. T'would only it was so.

Technorati: Wedding, Limousine Life, Marriage, Tipping.

Alligator Alley

Interstate 75 is the main vehicular artery in our part of the world, running north-south, (roughly) following the west coast of Florida. 

Aside: Did you know that Interstates are numbered oddly when running north-south, and evenly when running east west? Okay, I thought so. 

At abeam Naples, where it runs into the Everglades, the freeway makes a ninety degree turn, and heads due west. The toll plaza ($2.50) at the commencement of the cross-Florida section is the half-way point between my town and Miami, so it's a kind of driver's landmark. There is a large sign here, proclaiming your entry into what is known as "Alligator Alley." 

For eighty miles or so, the road barely turns. It's straight and boring, because it's as flat as a lake out there, which isn't a surprise, because it IS a huge lake. The Everglades are beautiful and frightening. It's not called Alligator Alley for no reason, although the fence that separates the hard surface from nature keeps the wildlife from becoming road kill. That's a good thing. 

There is another type of alligator that does prowl the freeway, however. This one is two-legged, comes in a khaki uniform, and drives a Crown Victoria with lots of lights. Our friend, the policeman, seem to enjoy the habitat in Alligator Alley. This is the one place I drive where I will not go even one mile per hour over the 70 limit. The gun-toting alligators here hunt in packs, up to seven of them at at time, and I have seen them pull over cars that I could not detect going more than the limit. 

They must make a fortune from fines, which reinforces their behaviour. It's a bit like shooting the proverbial fish in a barrel, because it is so easy to speed here. The road is straight, the scenery is boring, it's a long haul to wherever you're going, and it's often empty. But don't be fooled. The many bridges over the drainage canals provide perfect hidey-holes for the fuzz. 

It might take you ten or fifteen minutes longer, but my advice is to never, ever speed in The Alley. A 'gator bite here could take a big chunk out of your hip pocket. 

Another aside: This book is a well-written history of Florida and the Everglades. From my lens about remaindered books. 

Technorati: Alligator Alley, Limousine Life, Police, Speeding.

Limousine Life

Prom

Here we are, the stretched Lincoln and me, waiting for the evening's customers. Tonight it's eight over-dressed teens trying  to be adults, safe in the delusion that adulthood is all limousines and parties. 

I see these children (for they are still children) trying so hard to be grown up. Why? Adulthood will come to them at some point. What propels them to get there asap? 

My kid innocence lasted much longer than most. I revel in the memory of that time, and wish every young'un understood the delight of gradually finding their feet in the world. Not that I didn't run headlong into life: that I certainly did, from when I left home at eighteen. But the path I chose phased in the intellectual infrastructure young people need to create maturity. Maybe that was luck, maybe something else. 

The promsters went for dinner at their local sushi restaurant. Asian food is the fashion, chain restaurants (especially Olive Garden) derided as unimaginative. After that, to the shindig, and then back to the home you see above. 

Most of the boys said "thank-you", or at least make an attempt at communication. But the girls are silent. I don't know what that means. 

One standout moment: when they piled into the car after a night of apparently vigorous dancing, I was reminded again that they are still maturing. 

Those. Boys. Stank. 

Technorati: Prom, Limousine Life, Teenagers, Dancing.

Uniforms

Yes, it's a limousine service, and yes, it is supposed to be of a certain standard. But why the heck do we have to wear black suits in Florida? (See photo, above, taken last week at my favourite swimming beach. Does it look like a suit and tie kind of place?)

The Boss advertises - nay, makes a highlight of the fact - that his chauffeurs are uniformed. Even that's somewhat of a fib, because we don't all wear the same clothing. One of our drivers wears a full tux for every job, right down to the velvet bow tie. Another doesn't wear a suit so much as dark pants and sport jacket. And I'm given to mixing and matching my black suits with waistcoats and interesting ties. So despite the claim, we are not uniformly uniformed.

But we're sufficiently the same that we look indistinguishable from every other limo service around the place. The fact that we drivers are the only ones in the cars ever wearing a necktie (except for wedding parties) tells us something. It's FLORIDA fer crissakes, and IT'S HOT AND HUMID. Black suits are not natural to this environment. Would the manatee or the great blue heron wear a black suit? I think not.

If I was the boss, I'd settle on a more appropriate Florida-friendly uniform standard. How about comfortable chino-style pants in khaki, with a short-sleeved white shirt and a waistcoat in burgundy or other interesting colour to stand out in the crowd. Necktie optional. Looking neat and professional is a matter of the fit and cleanliness of the clothing, not the colour.

If clothes maketh the man, then a chauffeur's day is made by an interesting outfit. It seems so obvious to me.