For years, Handy Delivery Taxi Company was the only mode of transportation for inebriated co-eds looking for a ride on their way to a hot night on the town. Their unchallenged monopoly on a field that primarily catered to drunken degenerates undoubtedly led them to care very little about the concept of "customer service." That, coupled with the fact that they seem to exclusively hire the very same drunken degenerates as drivers, leads to a very poor experience for those of us who have had the (dis)pleasure of patronizing this terrible business.
In the social sciences, we concern ourselves with scouring the landscape for a variety of "social facts" about the world. And in honor of Rusty Pipes, I'm going to dub this one the "Iron Law of Handy Delivery." The Law--rooted in vigorous empirical observation and tests--affirms everyone's sneaking suspicions: Handy Delivery Taxi, in fact, sucks. All of those who have utilized its services has a Handy Delivery Horror Story (HDHS), and all of them seem too ridiculous too be true ("Hey...remember the time our driver asked us if we liked kiddie porn chat sites, and the awkward silence and early departure from the cab that followed?"). But the experience of the writers of SC Soapbox over homecoming weekend may top all of the HDHSs. Let me paint you a picture:
Our driver--a 50-something year old man who has read far too many science fiction books and currently resides in his mother's basement--was at the heart of the problem.
For purposes of anonymity (and purposes of my shitty memory), we'll call this guy Ralph. Here is a composite sketch of Ralph trying to find online love in his mother's basement--and to answer your burning question: yes, the real Ralph is equally as creepy as that guy.
Like all HDHSs, ours started wonderfully, as we piled into the beat-down HD van on our way to what we hoped would be a delightfully trashy evening at everyone's favorite night club. This, of course, all changed.
It began on North Atherton, as the six of us excitedly chatted about our evening prospects and made fun of Rusty Pipe's flowing gold locks. Perhaps we were being a bit loud, but what would you expect as a cab driver who carts around drunk college kids? The way I see it, if the driver needed quiet for some reason, he could have tried two approaches:
1. "Hey guys, I have to make a call to one of my drivers real quick, would you mind quieting down for a quick second while I make this call, please? I really appreciate it"
2. Ignore the clientele and make the call to a fellow driver, telling said driver: "I'm sorry, I can't hear you because I have a bunch of assholes in here who don't realize that they're only a foot away from one another."
He, as you probably guessed, chose option 2. This, of course, led to an awkward silence that fell over the van as we all exchanged "oh no he di'nt" glances. To his credit, I'm going to guess our friend Ralph has never taken an Intro Economics or Business class--if he had, he may have seen the error in insulting those responsible for tipping him.
But it's not over, folks. No ... Ralph had much more to offer.
Next on Ralph's socially awkward agenda was a twenty minute tirade, defending the rights of drunk drivers to hoist their keys in triumph, drive down the street at speeds exceeding the speed limit, and mow over any innocent individuals that happen to be crossing the road. After we informed the driver we, in fact, had friends who have been innocent victims of asshole drunk drivers, he continued by telling us why our friends were all-too deserving of their fate. Apparently Ralph is a card carrying member of DDU (Drunk Drivers United), and feels he has to fight for the inalienable rights of the socially stigmatized group--but again, perhaps not the right place nor time for such a tirade. If Ralph had the resources to be a politician, his motto might be something along the lines of: "Fuck Everyone. Get Wasted and Smash People Up. It's Your Right as an American."
Final Score: Ralph: 2, Non-offensive and pleasurable cab ride: 0.
So to all of those who have countless of HDHSs just like this one (or, worse), do something. Mobilize. Bitch to your local government organization. Refuse to patronize Handy Delivery, and instead use D & S Taxi (besides, they have the cute yellow cabs, which makes your experience that much more authentic).
And now for the rundown (as if it were even necessary):
Service: Handy Delivery thinks they own State College. When you call, expect the dispatcher to be rude. Do not expect them to say anything like "Certainly, we will be there in about 15 minutes! Have a safe and pleasant evening!" No. Not at all. Instead expect this: "What do you want? ... Oh, a Cab? ... Well where are you? ... I dont know where that is ... All right, fine, it will be there in a while" *Click*." Oh, and if you call back asking for an ETA, they will castrate you.
Food: This place does not serve food. Thank god. But rest assured, if it did, you would not want to eat it, and it would taste distinctly of cigarette ash and urine.
Facilities: Once again, Handy Delivery has enjoyed their reign as the only cab company in State College (until recently), and their cabs reflect this. For the most part, their cabs are shitty vans, or converted 1986 Ford Tempos (see above) that reek of booze and cigarette smoke. After a night of hard drinking, you often step into an HD cab and wonder "who is more drunk? me? Or the driver?" It's a fun game to play as you pass time and await your destination.
Atmosphere: In the words of Dane Cook, "remember the time daddy hit mommy at the dinner table?" Regardless of what happens, that's what your ride will feel like. It will begin jovial enough, but as soon as the driver makes a ridiculous comment (whether he is supporting drunk driving or talking about how much he loves child porn) your ride will become silent and awkward. Fast. 5 minutes into the ride you will want nothing more than to ask for a stop at the nearest ATM and walk the remaining 14 blocks.
Attractiveness of the Staff: Need i say more?
Final Grade: F-. Avoid at all costs.
No comments:
Post a Comment