MOOMINS M.C.

I went home on the weekend as I figured it might be the last time for a little while.
I had all sorts of offers from various people, of going for a trip somewhere on the Sunday in order to take some photos or something.
I for some reason or another didn't really feel like it and at the risk of seeming ungrateful, refused their generosity.
I was more interested in watching the rugby ( Bloody All Blacks ow! Smashed the bloody Wallabies again! ), going down the local fer a couple of cold ones and actually getting a decent night's sleep.
So there I am at the pub, and I get a phone call from Inge.
Inge is Alan's wife and she'd informed me that someway or another he'd managed to cut the back of his hand in the band saw.
For those not in the know, a band saw is literally like a rubber band made out of steel, with big sharp teeth on it and it spins around at a very high rate of knots.



So apparently the part between the wrist and the first knuckle, in the little and ring fingers, was chewed up faster than a cabbie trying to rip off a disabled person.
Supposedly his nerves aren't too bad, but there is a fair bit of bone and tendon damage.
Now Alan is of German extraction, so it should take him about a couple of weeks to get over this.
No but really, he should expect around 6 weeks off work.
He just bought a new motorbike too.


Cabbies.
A necessary evil.
On Sunday night I asked the taxi company to send me a cab that can take a folding wheelchair.
I specifically asked for a station wagon as I'd experienced the grumbling cabbie, who complained about attempting to get the chair in, before.
The bloke on the phone was adamant that I didn't need a wagon and that it should fit just fine in a sedan.
So, the taxi arrives and the driver proceeds to grumble and moan about not being able to fit the chair in.
Sure enough it had to go in the back seat, but we got it in.

Today I went in to the city to the dentist and again rang for a cab to get back to the hospital.
I told the muppet on the phone that I have a folding wheelchair and would like a wagon.
Guess what, he reckons it should fit in a car.
I informed him of the previous night's incident and that I don't really care what I get as long as it can take a folding wheelchair, but reckon that a wagon would be a good idea.
One of those maxi cabs turns up, you know the big van with a wheelchair lift.
The habibi bloke jumped out and asked me if I can get into the van.
Now getting into a car isn't a problem, but getting into one of those vans is nigh non impossible for me, especially without my crutches, as they are just too high.
So then I had to go in via the wheelchair lift in the back.
He asked me if I had one of those disability taxi cards and I told him that I don't.
The reason for this became very clear shortly afterwards.
After getting lifted into the back I noticed that the meter was already running and had clocked up $4.10 before we even started moving.
Upon questioning this I was ignored.
So I asked again.
This time I was told that if he has to use the lift, it costs extra and that was why he asked me if I had the card.
I explained to him that I'd never been charged for that before to which he argued that that's how it is and that's that.
Now, the bastard had that meter running before asking me if I had that damned card, and also failed to inform me of the extra charges prior to loading me in, and on top of that reckoned that he was the closest first available.
I said that I asked for a wagon, as I can get into one of those and the fact that the office had sent me a van was the taxi company's problem not mine.
As I can't get into a van I didn't think I should be charged extra because of the taxi company's screw up.
At this point he got shitty and just stopped the meter.
After a very silent ride we arrived at the hospital.
I had told him about my ongoing misadventures with his employer and offered to pay $15 ( it took me $12 in the morning and the trip back was slightly longer ).
He then refused and gave me the whole story about the extra charges again.
I again stuck to my guns and said that if the cab company can't send me the right car in the first place, then I don't see why I should be penalised.
I once again offered to pay and he again refused.
So I left and that was the end of that.

Honestly, if anyone thinks I was wrong let me know.
And let me know where you live so I can send you the parcel bomb instead of the explosively hot mexican pizza you ordered.
I'll just tell you that you ordered something hot, that's what was delivered and I can't comprehend what your complaint is.


Oh, and I'll charge you extra because you are now disabled.


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