Don't Mess With the Women of Huntington Beach

The woman in I'm writing about looked a lot like the woman in the car at :50 in this clip.


It was a slow Tuesday evening in downtown Huntington Beach.  I think it was the summer of 2003.  I picked up a couple guys in front of Perq's in my taxi, and was headed slowly inland on Main Street to drop them off.  As we neared the bike shop at Orange Street, we saw a young couple, with what I called the "Rockabilly look" back then.  The guy was in new Levi's, a white T-shirt, and had his hair slicked back.  His girlfriend was in a beige print retro dress, had jet black hair with bangs, two inch heels, and her bright red lipstick was shining.  It looked like the couple was walking home after a trip to one of the bars. 


In front of the couple were two guys with dark hair and naturally tan skin, maybe Indian or Persian guys from Irvine, I thought.  The two guys were walking backwards in front of the couple, waving their hands around like gangstas, and obviously giving the couple a hard time.  The couple seemed to be trying to ignore the two guys.  As I got within about 80 feet of the couple, the woman in the dress stepped forward and punched one of the guys in the face.  He dropped to the ground.  Then her boyfriend stepped forward and dropped the other guy, also with a single punch.  "That's why you don't mess with the girls in Huntington Beach," I said to the two passengers in my cab.  We all started laughing. 


I drove past the couple and the two guys on the ground, and went another mile inland to drop my passengers off.  On my way back down Main Street, I was surprised to see not only police cars, but an ambulance where the "fight" had been.  The Rockabilly couple was sitting on the curb talking to the police, and one of the guys who had been harassing them was getting loaded into the ambulance.  That may just have been the best thing I've ever seen as a taxi driver. 


This is just one of the taxi fight stories that will be in my upcoming DIY book, Level 5: Getting Shot Sucks.  Click the link to pre-order a copy.  And don't talk shit in downtown Huntington Beach, even to the women.

Make Money Panhandling #1: When hard work doesn't pay off

Are you looking for a new way to make some money?  Are you a self-starter?  Do you like to work on your own?  Do you like the outdoors?  If you answered "yes," then maybe panhandling is for you.

Back in 2007 after years struggling to get by as a taxi driver living in my cab, I had some serious health problems.  My sluggish lifestyle of working 14 to 18 hours a day, seven days a week, led to me gaining over 150 pounds and getting a serious bacterial infection called cellulitis.  The first bout nearly killed me, because I didn't have health insurance, so I just lay in my taxi with a fever of about 105 for five days.  I finally went to the emergency room, and luckily I was covered by some insurance for homeless people.  Three days in the hospital and a week on my boss' couch, and I was back to the crazy taxi lifestyle. 

I had that happen two more times that year, and went straight to the ER both times.  On my last visit, the ER doctor told me that if I kept up my crazy taxi lifestyle of not enough sleep, bad food, no exercise, and high stress, I was going to die.  "In months," he added, "maybe weeks."  After another month in the cab, I decided I needed to quit.  After four years of working 70 to 100 hours a week, paying $550 a week for the taxi and $300 a week for gas, I gave up.  I rolled into the taxi yard, threw my stuff in my backpack, turned in the keys, and walked out onto the streets of Orange County, California with $15 to my name.  I weighed 365 pounds, I could barely walk because of severe athletes foot (which is pretty funny when you think about it), and I expected to die within a few weeks.  I started panhandling for food money, just asking people for change at bus stops or gas stations.  I slept in the bushes.  After a few days, I decided to "fly a sign" as we say in the panhandling business.  A piece of cardboard, a pen I had in my pocket, and an off ramp, and I was in business. 

Don't panhandle unless you're really homeless of down and out, OK?