My Tenure as an Airport Limo Driver Part IV

Training done I’m on my own, I’ve picked up and dropped off my first batch of passengers and keeping a Running Tip total (including the tips I didn’t get when I did all the work during training) we are at $0.

I knew if I was going to make any money at this I’d have to adopt the sunny disposition and professional demeanor my training driver showed me— in other words I couldn’t be myself.

The way pickups work is you circle the airport and stop at each terminal, put the bus in park and then get out and yell the name of the limo service in case someone can’t read the giant letters emblazoned on the side of the van.

You look for movement from all the tired, hopeless souls dragging huge pieces of luggage with them and then you confirm that they are on your list of passengers, put their bags in the back and open the door so they can grab a seat. On your passenger manifest is their name and address so you take a minute to figure out via your road atlas where they live and how best to get there, then you multiply this times as many people as you can pick up and head off. I was thinking I’d stick to five or six passengers, meaning they would be on the bus for less time and it’d be easier to lay out a route— the dispatcher had other ideas and had me swing back around two more times until I had eighteen people jammed into the back.

The problem was they were going ALL over the state. Gloucester, New Bedford, Cape Cod, West Springfield, Worcester, Leominster, Brookfield, Palmer, Barre, East Longmeadow, North Adams— if you look at a map of Massachusetts those destinations were in almost every spot on the map.

I pushed the sunny disposition and from the small talk we were all making I was feeling good about this one. I started to head west to drop off my first passenger just outside of Cambridge when the dispatcher radioed in that I should take my load of passengers to a parking lot at a supermarket in Cambridge for a “prisoner exchange” or whatever they called it.

This was so that they could have buses that were heading North - South or West and better get the passengers home in a timely manner. It was actually impressive thinking the only thing was when I got there I found SIX other buses waiting so all of my passengers disembarked my bus and were placed on all of these other buses. Now being empty I was sent back to the airport to pick up more people. Apparently, despite my being the new guy, I was very fast at getting into and out of the airport.
This would have been fine except for one thing.

Passengers only tip the final driver— so everyone getting off my bus had their luggage picked up and brought over to the new van by the other drivers. So total tips for these 18 passengers despite my incredible charm and personality and all of our clear new friendships and connections came to $0.

I made this repeat trip another four or five times. Same thing. Full load, stop in parking lot, lose all my passengers and any hope of a tip. Hey there was still the amazing minimum wage paycheck, right?

My shift was scheduled to end at 12 midnight, so at 11:15 I radioed in that I would be picking up my last batch and heading in only to be told that no I needed to go back in. Visions of working four straight days with no sleep or shower like my trainer driver crept into my head.

I got my final load of passengers at a little after 1am, this time only four pickups and I was taking all of them home. No prisoner exchange this time. I dropped off the first two passengers in Worcester, they lived about a mile and a half from each other, traveling down the same road twice. They got off without saying a word and had no bags. Tip Total: $0

Passenger #3 was also from Worcester and as I pulled up to her apartment I realized it was on the other side of the very road I’d been driving by.

“I was wondering when you were going to stop, you drove by my house three times.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” I asked her.

“I figured you were racist and wanted to drop off the white people first.”

I looked at passenger #4 who was a white male in his fifties. He just shrugged at me at her comment. She walked away. No tip.

The last passenger was a nice guy, he moved to the front. Trouble was it was now half past two and he lived in rural Hubbardston— down a road that had never seen a vehicle that didn’t have a horse pulling it. I dropped him off and he handed me $5.

Three Days; Tip Total $5.

I drove the 40 minutes back to drop the bus off and radioed that I was coming in.
”Make sure you vacuum it and fill the gas tank.” Came the reply.

“Yeah, I’m not doing any of that.” I dropped the bus off as well as my resignation. This was not for me.

“No problem, come back anytime. Drop off your windbreaker when you get your check.”

I informed him I had declined the windbreaker and told him to keep the check— by my calculations it would be $44 after taxes.
They needed it more than I did.

My Stint as an Airport Limo Driver Part III

The third part of my Trains, Planes and Automobiles (and Airport Service Buses) is upon us. I think it’s important to state up front that I don’t condescend to jobs I consider “beneath” me— there is no job beneath me, I honestly mean that. I admire hard work and am in awe of people who work full time jobs and then some. As a freelancer who lives a pretty much a golden lifestyle where I can work where and when I want I like the idea of jumping in and doing another job— even for a little while.

One early Spring evening Number Two son and I were driving back from my purchase of a nice little James Bond style gun and it being dinner time and we were in a hurry, options were limited and we were far enough from home that we just wanted something quick so we stopped at a Burger King. As we walked into the shop it was an absolute mess. Now, most Burger Kings are absolute messes, that’s in the mission statement, but this one looked like they just had six birthday parties and let the kids run wild. We soon found out why— there was one guy working the front and one guy working the back. Two guys running this whole place. They were frazzled beyond the point of any return. We ordered our food and waited and waited. Another couple was there before us and they were very understanding of his situation. While we waited Number Two son and I grabbed nearby brooms and mops and we cleaned up the dining room and wiped down the tables. Not because we are saintly visitors but because it was the right thing to do and our other option was to just stand there and watch these people work themselves to death. This kid was doing his best, he was handling the drive thru with one hand, taking our orders with another and unjamming the shake machine with his foot. If I needed an assistant I’d hire this kid in a heartbeat.
We finished cleaning up the place and the kid had tears in his eyes as he thanked us. Since then we’ve half joked that we should do this once a month— go to a place and then just work there for free just to help out and ride off into the sunset like The Lone Ranger and Tonto.

Anyway, back to the Airport Limo job, night three my training was done and I was on my own. I got my passenger manifest and took a seat in the driver lounge area of Flynn’s Truck Stop sipping a coffee while I mapped out pickup locations using the road atlas I bought for this gig. I refused the Company windbreaker because it smelled like someone else had lived in it and it was an XXL and I’m a M/L, opting instead to wear my leather bomber jacket which would, I assumed, get me into the spirit of using the WWII bomber pilot lingo on the bus radio to dispatch— as I would find out shortly, it would not.

I boarded and headed for my first pickup. I felt bad for this person, they were heading out on a trip and being the first passenger meant they were along for the journey as I picked up the other seven passengers on my list, all of whom were scattered all over Central Massachusetts. After about two hours the bus was fully loaded and I headed into Logan. I tried my best to use the Radio lingo but I just had a hard time taking it seriously— I felt really stupid saying things like “Roger that” and “over and out”, but I tried.

As we headed into Cambridge, about 10 mins or so from the airport a light rain started falling and once again the windows started fogging up, only this time everyone in the bus sat closer to me and they fogged completely up.

“You should turn on your defrosters.” The man who had taken a seat right behind me and designated himself as co-pilot chimed in.

“They are on. They’ve been on the whole trip.” The defrosters were worse than the bus I trained in. I think waving my hands would have done more to defrost them than anything the truck’s motor was doing. The passengers seemed oblivious to our plight because they were talking louder and laughing as I tried to keep us from careening off the Mass Pike and to certain death.

I pulled up to the first terminal, announced which one it was and then checked the list and got out to get the bags of the passengers who were getting off at this one.

I opened the back and three passengers came with me. A woman who was probably in her forties and had a face that looked like she had smelled something bad in her early twenties and never forgot it was first.

“Which one is yours?” I asked.

“You don’t know?” She shot back.

“There are fifteen bags here, no I didn’t take the time to study luggage.”

“It’s the black one.” She said without pointing.

“They’re all black.”

She huffed and stepped up and took her bag, which was right there on the edge of the bus.

The other two passengers weren’t as polite. Tip total; $0.

I dropped off the rest of the passengers and that total didn’t change any and then circled back around and started at the first terminal for pickups. I knew if this gig was going to produce any money I’d have to work on my service and people skills.

I had a plan.

Continued….