Largest fare stories among taxi drivers are a lot like “biggest fish” stories among fishermen.
But the summer story of a man kicked off the South Shore Line with his bicycle — resulting in a $150 cab fare to South Bend — got us asking Chicago cab drivers about their most memorable fares.
Here’s a selection of the best stories we could verify through the taxi companies:
Talk isn’t cheap
Sam Ahmed, 37, cab driver for six years. Chicago Carriage Cab. Taxi 918.
My longest drive was to Dearborn, Mich., a couple years ago. I was playing pool, and a friend of mine [a fellow cab driver] called and said, “Do you want to go to Detroit?”
My friend got a fare that he couldn’t take, so I said, “Sure, I’ll go. I want to be paid.”
So I picked this guy up at Foster and Sheridan, on the North Side of Chicago. He was tall, from Ethiopia. He didn’t have anything, maybe just a small bag. He was in a hurry. His friend promised him that he was going to drive him home, but his friend got drunk.
This guy was in medical supplies and had a very important meeting that Monday. He couldn’t find a flight or anything like that.
He paid with a credit card before we left. I agreed on $450 … according to the mileage … and he gave me $20 extra.
The weather was good, and he was talking most of the time about business … how he has to deal with doctors, stuff like that.
I left the city 4:30 a.m., and I got back 3:30 p.m. — just about 11 hours, round trip. I talked on my phone all the way home, just to stay awake. The worst part was, it cost me $150 to my phone company. I didn’t know I was roaming. That was terrible.
Home from the hospital
ZESHAN SHEIKH: 25, cab driver for 2 1/2 years. Chicago Carriage Cab. Taxi 805.
Basically it was just a normal day, March 24. I got a call to go to Norwegian Hospital, but the fare wasn’t there. But I started talking to this guy in the hallway in a wheelchair.
The gentleman said he was actually a victim of Hurricane Katrina, and he’d been in Chicago for two weeks.
He was Latin. He looked more like Jerry Lewis, but a darker complexion and a little skinnier. He was partially paralyzed. He could move his arms but couldn’t move anything else.
I told him that I used to work in radiology in CAT scan at Northwestern Hospital, and he got the notion that I’d know how to move him around, versus most of the cab drivers.
He asked, “Can you take me to my apartment?” So, I checked with my dispatcher, to let them know my fare hadn’t been there.
Now, the wheelchair he was in wasn’t his own; it was the hospital’s. So, I assisted him into the cab, and when we got to his apartment west of Wicker Park, he said, “Can you go up to my apartment and bring down my wheelchair?” So, I did.
The fare was $13 and some odd change. Literally, it was like 2 miles. He asked, “Can I put this on a credit card?” and I said, “Why not?”
Now, the majority of people using a credit card add a tip, so I asked him if he wanted to include one. He said, “Yeah, add $222.”
I said, “Look sir, I can’t take this from you.”
But he said, “No, I want to. Quite frankly, before you came, three other cab drivers, they refused service when they saw me. But I met you, and you took me without any hesitation, and I respect that. You’re the first person who was generally helpful and respected me.”
I said, “But of course, that’s my profession.”
I would want him to be assisted … for someone to help him if he was my father or uncle.
I said, “Look, I’m not doing anything extraordinary, I’m just being a regular human being.” I told him I would do this for anyone.
He said, “Forget about the $222. Make it $300.” He was very persistent that I take the $300. So, that was that. I called my dispatcher, and OKd the transaction.
We traded phone numbers, and he called me that night. I returned the call the next morning and had a pleasant conversation. He wanted to make sure I made it OK; he said there are a lot of crazy drivers out there.
Detroit, C.O.D.
PETER SIAKPERE: 57, cab driver for 15 years. Yellow Cab Co.Taxi 3991.
I was actually at a cab stand at the Greyhound bus station on West Harrison last year, and five Mexicans came up to me and asked me to take them to Detroit.
No, they didn’t say why they wanted to go. I didn’t ask.
Only one of them spoke English: He was about 5-9, semi-well-dressed and well-groomed, a nice-looking guy in a maroon shirt and black dress pants.
I checked the mileage, which was almost 300 miles. I said $800, and they said, “OK.”
They were very quiet; they talked to one another mostly. When we stopped to get gas or get a bite to eat, they did not come out of the cab. I don’t know, maybe they were here illegally.
The only thing that was unusual: They said they would pay when we got there.
I was a little bit apprehensive, but I took a chance.
My wife called me, to see how I was doing. I told my friends about the fare, so everyone was excited. They kept calling me on the way, to see how it was going.
When I got there, to a suburb in Detroit near the airport, they gave me nine fresh $100 bills. When I stopped the car, the meter read $585, but I also have to drive back, so they came out ahead. The whole trip took about nine hours.
`Honey, I’m in Ohio’
FRANK TETTEH: 57, cab driver for 20 years. Chicago Carriage Cab. Taxi 6062.
I was in front of a hotel near Lawrence and Clark, and this guy waved me down, said he wanted to go to Columbus, Ohio. I said, “You got the money?” He said, “I got a credit card.”
He gave me the mileage, and I gave him a discount; it was $850. I had to call in and get an approval.
He told me it was a business trip. I don’t know if he missed his plane or what. He said he went to the Greyhound station, and a bus wasn’t leaving until later in the day. I didn’t want to get deep with the conversation.
I thought I could do it within six hours time, but when it took longer than that, my wife called. I told her, “I’m in Ohio” then told her about the money.
I looked for the highway patrol. If I don’t see them, I lowered my foot on the accelerator. The guy said I did a good job getting him to his hometown, so he gave me a $300 tip.
It took me about 12 hours, roundtrip. If it wasn’t for the rain, I would have made it in 10 hours.
It was a good trip. It happens once in a lifetime.
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relder@tribune.com
