The man approached my cab pressing on the white towel wrapped around his right hand. As he eased into the seat next to me, I noticed the crimson blotches. Bar-fight casualty sprang to mind.

“Going up to the emergency room?” I asked.

“I think I better,” he replied unwrapping the towel for an inspection. Human blood freaks me out, but, of course, I couldn’t help but look. Yup, it was gruesome.... Read more

"I don’t believe in sluts.”

Sitting behind me, in the back of my taxi, the man proclaimed his views on the evolving issue of promiscuity. I say “evolving,” because not very long ago societal opinion was fixed and harsh: Girls who slept around were branded “sluts,” while guys got a pass or even were glorified as “ladies’ men” or “studs.” Lately, I’ve heard men also being referred to as sluts, so that’s progress, I guess.... Read more

Burlington rocked, swung and generally got down over the second weekend of June. The Jazz Festival drew thousands to town, and, as if that wasn’t enough, it coincided with St. Michael’s alumni weekend and UVM’s orientation for the incoming freshmen. Between my regulars and the tourists, I was flat-out.... Read more

For a Burlington-based cabdriver, a fare to the outer reaches of an outlying town — Essex, Colchester, Shelburne — is a perfectly decent fare. Except, that is, during the couple of hours around 2 a.m. on weekend nights. These are the precious hours of “last call,” when the crowds pour from the clubs and bars, ready for their cab rides to hotel rooms or homes. The last thing a cabbie wants during the late-night rush hour is a long haul. The money is in maximizing short trips, such as quickie runs up Williston or Shelburne roads, or to the various neighborhoods of Burlington proper.... Read more

Some things require a full week. Like when God decided to create the world. No way that gets done in just a day or two. Rushing the thing, He or She might have forgotten the amphibians, or light.... Read more

"Do you need a cab?" I asked the young couple who had just gotten off the evening train.

I have voiced this question probably more than 10,000 times over my hacking career. As queries go, it's as concise and unambiguous as they come. Hence my bafflement when the man and woman looked through me, as if I was a nettlesome street person angling for a handout.... Read more

St. Patrick's Day was over a month ago, so how did I end up with a leprechaun riding shotgun in my taxi? Well, maybe not an authentic Irish elf, but a short, good-looking man with a perfect red goatee and, yes, twinkling eyes direct from Central Casting.... Read more

The young woman who exited the Three Needs bar and approached my taxi was no shrinking violet. Taking full advantage of one of the few warm nights we'd had this spring, she was dressed in a skin-tight, backless dress, vibrantly revealing wide swaths of her chunky frame.... Read more

The end of this year's spring break coincided with a major late-winter snowstorm that tied East Coast air traffic up in knots. Shrewd cabbie that I am, I knew this would mean extra-heavy Amtrak usage by the returning college students. Sure enough, the evening train produced two fares headed into town: a bushy red-haired young man, UVM-bound, sat with me in the front, while a post-college-age couple relaxed in the rear.... Read more

[This is Hackie's very first column. We are republishing it in honor of the column's 10th birthday. Congrats Hackie!]

It's a quiet, late Tuesday night in downtown Burlington. The students are in their dorms; Tuesday is not one of their big nights for bar-hopping. Weekends -- beginning with Thursday night -- you can bank on a lot of student runs. The other four nights are touch-and-go. Twenty-plus years in the taxi business and I've yet to discover how they seem to collectively make this decision, and don't think I haven't given it a lot of thought.... Read more