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The Livery cab, a staple of El Alto, and a major player in the local economy is a small business on wheels. PHOTO: Mike Fitelson
This week when the rain wasn’t letting up, my shoes were soaked, and I was desperate to get back under a roof, I jumped into a cab.
A black one, in all of its livery cab glory.
Behind the wheel sat a young man, apparently in his late twenties. “Danilo Cortez,” read the name of his permit which was displayed on the back of his headrest and decorated by all the City logos and decorations that deemed him a legit operation.
A small business held atop four wheels and four doors, operated to the tune of a smooth merengue, and an occasional switch to AM radio for a traffic and news check.
Along the compartment between the driver’s seat and the passenger seat sat a collection of wires. One for the GPS device, another one for his cell phone, a pair of headphones, and what to me resembled a set of battery boost cables: no shortage of energy there.
Among the wire mess was a gallon of water, two cups of coffee in their respective cup-holders and a note pad. Everything in an organized chaos nestled inside the sparkling car. Clean both inside and outside with shiny leather upholstering, and the scent of at least a dozen pine tree air fresheners. It was clear that Danilo put time and effort into taking care of his business.
From below the glove compartment came the constant buzz of the dispatcher’s radio which emitted a sound I am certain was another language. Addresses sputtered through the speaker at lightning speed, answered by the confirmation of other drivers on their way to any given pick up destination.
“Hay una señora con la compra, en el supermercado 23, 48, 66, [There’s a woman with her groceries, at the supermarket],” or something like that, and then a reply from Danilo, “34, 34, 3 minutos.”
The livery cab, a staple of El Alto, and a major player in the local economy, and my choice of transportation when I’m in a hurry, tired, or when driving is simply not an option. I can always count on them.
“A car-wash, at least twice a week,” said Danilo, after I broke the silence asking him about the car and its maintenance. “People should feel good about riding here, not concerned, and relaxed knowing they’re getting a good service.”
“How’s business?” I asked.
“Bueno, like everything, up and down. We’re struggling in this economy,” he replied. “But we’re healthy and that’s all we can ask for.”
The livery cabs, commissioned by each of the given bases received a tip of the hat this week when David Yassky, head of the Taxi and Limousine commission stopped by the neighborhood to personally thank them for their work during tropical storm Irene. Once again, the cabs delivered, and having them be part of El Alto, our culture and our daily lives is reason to be proud.
Sometimes, it seems the cabs take up the little parking space we have, or that they double park precisely at the wrong time, and sometimes in an effort to pick up a customer they honk like mad when all you want is to cross the street.
Still, every time you sit in a cab, you’re bound to meet an interesting character, a hardworking soul, emblematic of the neighborhood struggle. You also might meet the hopeless romantic who drives to boleros of the 1960’s, an impetuous flirt. Take a moment, just sit back and study the business.
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