Actually the poor cabby got his throat slit by a mental case. "Could have been anybody!" the 20 yr. vet says to the job applicants. Thanks. I feel better now.

Dirty, unmopped floor covered with dried up winter slush and salt. Driver's table so pitted with holes you can't write on it. Probably been there since the 70's. We watch a couple hokey training videos to cover the company's legal obligations before setting us loose on the city. Then the important stuff. "Rus" the manager/trainer shows me how to fill out trip reports, put the money in a sandwich bag (not kidding) and drop it into the safe.

A couple cabbys drop in at lunch and swap stories around the table to impress the new guy. Rus grills me on the stuff their insurance company (and probably their lawyer also) say they need to tell me. Tomorrow he'll squeeze me into a cab with the other newbie and kill two training sessions with one tank of propane. Yes, PROPANE. I ask if it's greener. "Ya, a little better for the atmosphere," says Rus. Makes me feel I'm in the right place. Still pretty damn depressed when it's time to leave.