Leaving the tennis site early for St. Patrick’s Day was a positive one… at first. We left in good spirits even though too many sets of car keys were in the hands of the people leaving early, stranding anyone without a car who had to stay late. After going back up to the batcave and dropping off the car keys, we were on our way. Being dropped off at our rental house wasn’t exactly ideal but we were still going to make the best of it.
“Cab company!” Buschy says as he dials the number to the first cab company in the Google result list. Here’s the info:
Indian Wells Cab Company – (760) 409-7437
Alright, just enough time for me to quickly shower before the cab gets here. Buschy realizes that they didn’t ask for the code to the gated community, nor did they tell us how long the cab would take. After another quick phone call it was settled to be around 35 minutes. After asking nicely if it could be sooner, they said they would do the best they could. After getting out of the shower, I go into the front room and see a puzzled look on his face.
Buschy – “They left a message saying that they couldn’t get in through the gate. That if I didn’t call back they would charge me $75.”
Me – “Haha, good luck trying to charge us at a rental house…”
Some of you have already caught on to what was about to happen but we were still clueless, blinded by the thoughts of a drunken night full of green beer.
We called back and tried to help the dispatcher guide his cab driver through the gate by hitting the right combination on the keypad at the gate. After a lengthy explanation we got the dispatcher to understand and he said he would call his cab driver back. We decided to wait outside.
5 minutes go by…
Me – “Seriously it takes 5 minutes to walk to the gate from here. He’s obviously too stupid to figure out how to get in here.”
Going back inside we call back to cancel the cab. A woman answers and Buschy tells her that the cab driver still isn’t here. She explains that they haven’t heard from the cab driver and they would call us when they do. By this time I’ve already lost interest and told Buschy that I really didn’t want to go out anyways. A few minutes later we get a phone call…
Buschy – “Hello… what? You’re kidding me… [long pause] …that’s fucked up… [long pause] …that’s fucked up.”
Me – “What did they say?”
Buschy – “It’s not a real cab company, they were just fucking with us…”
After feeling like assholes, we decided to look up the number again. This is the site that comes up should you decide to cross reference their phone number with a web page:
Kudos to Ric Cruz and the others who came up with the idea of a fake cab company. I decided to call for myself and a girl answered. It sounded like a party was going on in the background. She was as happy as a sissy on a battleship that it was her turn to answer the phone and screw with someone another person’s St. Paddy’s Day. Accepting defeat graciously I decided it best to calmly hang up the phone.