Musings of a Drunken Monk: Individual Entry Archive

So you may have (but probably not) been wondering where the hell I was over the past few days that I neglected to update you on your French lesson. The short (and only) answer is that I was in Irvine, California to visit UC Irvine's Urban Planning Department. It was a good trip. I have no idea why someone would ever even think about moving back to cold, depressing, cranky Boston after being out there. Regardless, I have a funny, if not short, story.

My flight first routed me to Houston, where I hung out in the George Bush airport. Yes, they actually named an airport after Bungling Daddy Bush. Thank God it wasn't GW, at any rate. I particularly enjoyed the statue of George senior with a windswept suit and tie, with his coat thrown over his shoulder. What a pose! How heroic! Moronic. Texans truly are weird.

After Houston, I took a flight to LAX, upon which I was informed by native Los Angeleans that the only way to get from LAX to Irvine at 11:30 at night was a cab and for sure I would pay out the bum. Not a pleasant thought.

Upon my arrival, I realized that my hastily-formed plan of going to an information desk would be an exercise in futility, simply because it was indeed 11:30PM and nothing is open, even at the airport, at that time. So I milled around the baggage area trying to figure out what to do, and most importantly trying to figure out how the hell I'd get my hotel's phone number.

But then the big man approached.

He was huge, shaved bald, scary, and in a pimpin suit. He looked at me and nodded. The three things he said to me were:

"My name's Roy. I got a towncar. Where you goin?"

I, of course, was speechless. I didn't want to pay some random guy with a towncar to drive me to Irvine, an hour away. But what the hell, it was 11:30 and I wanted to get to the stupid hotel. I told him Irvine, he told me 85 bucks.

Ah what the hell.

So big Roy grabs my bags, we walk like 14 miles to the parking lot, to his towncar, and got our asses moving.

Now, I know you're thinking "85 bucks?! Ripoff!" Now you try making a rational decision after a day of flight, 3 time zones, no food, and it's 70 degrees and you're wearing a Boston-geared jacket and hat. Right.

It got me to thinking. This is a legitimate business here. Not really legit as in legally sanctioned or following any sort of structure, but legit in that it makes money. Wait around at the pickup area of an airport, and there are surely hundreds of people a day looking for a way to get somewhere. Get them before they get to a cab, woo them with your towncar, and you are set. Most of them are in a state of semi-consciousness like I was (I swear it's the air they use in those planes), so you won't get much of a fight. It's like shooting fish in a barrel!

Though this is an idea that has occurred to many others, I file it away with my other business ideas like the clear front refrigerator (with LCD darkening), the tapeworm, and other less-than-legally-responsible ideas. Someday, when the world has drifted into anarchy, I will implement them. Mwa ha ha.

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