I started driving a taxi in the depth of the recession. Those early fares were nothing like the clients and rides I give today. At the time when I first started there had been some violence towards cab drivers and many were afraid to work nights. There were also very few airport runs because people weren't flying. As a new driver I didn't have the luxury of an existing client base, or could I be choosy about what time of day I was going to drive. I took every fare I could find. Wal-Mart's, alcoholic booze runs, drug runs, dancers going to work—whatever put cash in my hand.

Some of those early fares came out of a motel/hotel on the border of Maplewood and Oakdale. This was before a significant remodel and it was a den of welfare fraud, drugs, and prostitution. You never knew what adventure a fare out of there would bring. Many folks come to Minnesota from the south side of Chicago to dip (or sometimes double dip) into our state's generous programs. My first big cab fare came from this hotel. At the time of this fare, many were staying there waiting for their housing to come through.

It was the middle of a slow sunny day, so just getting a fare where the people actually came out and got into the cab was a victory. My riders were four people in their 20s. They fit the profile of the Chicago folks I had been picking up there in the weeks prior. The one who walked with the most authority picked the front seat and turned out to be the ringleader of the group. I really should've asked for money up front but as a new cabdriver I wasn't that brave (just yet). The ringleader said that they wanted to go to the Associated Bank in Saint Paul. The young man said it with slick swagger like he was headed to ring the opening bell for the NYSE. While I hadn't been rolling the streets long, I already knew this was not the percentage of the population that participates in our traditional banking system. These folks bank at UN Bank and Wal-Mart's Money Center. I was suspicious of their destination at the corner of Selby and Snelling Avenue.

The entire ride I'm wondering if I should ask for money and I'm suspicious of their plans. Upon arrival the ringleader stays in the car with me as the meter runs, and the others go inside. Because they didn't come running back out right away I am confident they did not rob the bank in the traditional sense. But they did spend nearly an hour in the bank and appeared to have more money than when they went inside the bank. What were they up to? I'll never know.

It was a long wait with the ringleader.

He seemed to think he was a pretty big deal. Maybe he was in criminal circles? I noted the cab was parked just far enough away from visible cameras. Not sure if our parking location was intentional but he didn't want to be seen. The meter climbed a bit from the ride and given the wait time I started to wonder if I would be working for free. Thinking we were going back to the hotel, I jumped back on the E-Way as they called it, also known as 94. But, they quickly informed me that they wanted to go to a place called Hook's on University to "celebrate." Although they did not tell me what they intended to "celebrate," but I suspected it was the success of the Associated Bank mission.

They ordered 200 pieces of fried chicken. In case you were wondering, 200 pieces of friend chicken takes some time. It was a 45-minute wait and I'm thinking to myself: Do they plan to feed the entire hotel? But no, we drove around various hoods in Saint Paul delivering chicken to their friends in celebration. Apparently they already had a lot of people living here that they knew from back home. The meter now read well over $100. I'm starting to really sweat the situation and I'm fearful that the smell of fried chicken will be impossible to get out of my cab.

Finally we headed back to the hotel. As we pull up to the front doors the ringleader said, "Most (insert offensive word here) wouldn't pay this fare( he's right), but I ain't most (insert offensive word here)." Then he said, "In fact I'm gonna tip you," which was even more surprising. The meter read $132 and he handed me $134. I breathed a sigh of relief.

He was smart to have paid me. A couple years later a man would rob a Skyway (also known as Minneapolis' gerbil tubes) bank and flee in a waiting taxi. That man ran on the taxi driver and left his ID behind. The police were called, and he was caught all because he didn't pay his taxi driver. I guess one would never think that not only can we be your mode of transportation, but if you play by the rules, then we can also be your best alibi.