Full-Assed Friday: Ray St. Ray, The Singing Cab Driver

You may or may not have noticed that the tag line for this blog is adventures in half-assed step parenting.

Chase McFadden called me full-assed about something a while back, and I took it for the compliment that it was. Hence my new regular feature, Full-Assed Friday.

Every Friday I’m going to share something that I consider Full-Assed. It may be funny, awesome, meaningful, or just different. I’m taking suggestions, so if you have an idea or want to be a part of it, email me at accidentalstepmom at gmail dot com.

For the first Full-Assed Friday, I’m introducing you to Ray St. Ray, the Singing Cab Driver.

When I played Chicago with the Hairspray tour, it was an extended stop, eight weeks, and I ended up having foot surgery because it was the only time in my career I could fit it in. Afterwards I was in a boot. This made the loadout interesting because in typical fashion, a blizzard began while we were loading trucks and the Teamsters made fun of me since they could see my toes poking out of the boot. They wanted to know if my toes were cold.

They were.

Weeks before the load out though, there was the Superbowl. I was at a midway point in my recovery and wasn’t supposed to walk more than a block. I needed food and this is how I found myself hailing a cab back from the Whole Foods and being greeted by Ray St. Ray.

Ray totally made my night. He was completely unexpected, entirely entertaining, sang me a song called Sugar Slut and kept me from limping back to my apartment in the boot and the snow.

I googled him a while back and found that he’s still in Chicago, is still the Singing Cab Driver, and still going strong. I contacted him via his website, and even though he doesn’t remember me (I’m pretty sure he does, he’s just not letting on) he was gracious enough to grant me this interview over email.

When you get in Ray’s cab he gets your location then introduces himself, tells what he’s about and gives you a menu of songs to choose from. He’ll sing you one (don’t be greedy).

Me: What song do your passengers choose most often?

Ray: I offer a menu of a little over 20 songs I’ve written and selected for passsengers. They fall into what I call “the four main topics of life: Love, Sex, Social significance and Other.” On any given night a surprising number of people will usually choose the same song. But it’s different each night. Sometimes a song doesn’t get picked for a month, then suddenly it’s a popular subject.

In general, however, whatever song is the last on the last list tends to be chosen more than others, probably because it’s the default for those who can’t decide. It was the last thing they remember.

Me: I read on your website, and remember from my ride, that you became The Singing Cab Driver largely to promote your band Chameleon World. Tell me about your band.

Ray: Chameleon World is “more than a band…It’s a world!”

Originally it was friends backing me up for a New Years Eve party twenty years ago. Back then it was all covers, mostly Talking Heads, and we tried to sound exactly like whoever we covered. When I started driving a cab, I started writing original songs and we started slipping them into shows.

Over the years, there were a few “incarnations of personnel”. This group I have now is the most fun and the core of us have been together for over four years. We play all original songs that I write while I drive.

Me: Do you use a voice recorder? Or do you have like a guitar with you in the cab?

I always have paper and pen in my pocket to jot down notes.

A guitar would be useless to me, since I don’t play any instruments. It’s probably just as well because I can hear a whole orchestra in my head.

I do, however keep an mp3 recorder handy to scat or whistle song ideas. I probably have ten hours of these from over the years. It’s important that I make notes like this. The songs I finish I rarely have to go back to listen to, but for every song that’s completed, I probably lost five as soon as someone opened the cab door and said “Hello.”

Me: What’s your most memorable fare?

Ray: I sang for a group of people I picked up at the Opera House. One was Renee Fleming, the opera diva. Another was John Kander, who with Fred Ebb, wrote the songs for CHICAGO and CABARET.

One of the songs from CHICAGO, All I Care About Is Love, I could pinpoint as being the genesis of my music career. Accidentally seeing it performed on TV started a chain of consequences over decades which led to my being The Singing Cab Driver.

How many artists can say they actually met and personally performed for a genuine influence?

Me: That’s fantastic. What song did Kander pick?

He didn’t. We deferred to the ladies and Renee Fleming chose a sexy number called Little Trouble. Not the best example of my writing, but it’s fast, hooky, and it was a short ride.

Me: Who tips the best and who tips the worst?

Ray: IN GENERAL: Best tippers: cool, hip people. Worst tippers: people who aren’t. Also, doctors and their wives.

Me: Do you remember me? I’m cute and blond and had a walking cast and you picked me up at Whole Foods during the 2004 “wardrobe malfunction” Superbowl. This was before I had five step kids and still had disposable income. You sang me Sugar Slut. It was appropriate.

Ray: I remember your shoes didn’t match.

Me: Ouch. Did I tip you okay?

Ray: I can’t even remember if you paid me, Judy.

Me: It’s funny, you using the wrong name like that, like you really don’t remember me. I’m memorable. Can we see the chorus to Sugar Slut, because it’s awesome.

Ray: “She’s a sugar slut! She’ll do almost anything for chocolate! She’s a sugar slut!

Chocolate gets her hot!”

Me: I will believe until the day I die that you totally wrote that for me. Do you like the X-Files?

Ray: I do, but I prefer a rival show that was on for one season called DARK SKIES.

Me: How about bacon?

Ray: I’m eating some now.

Me: Do you have any songs about bacon?

Ray: Not in the foreseeable future, present or past.

Me: Name your two favorite musical artists.

Ray: The Turtles. David Byrne.

Me: On your website people comment frequently that you’re quite the snazzy dresser, but I couldn’t really see your outfit that night, being that it was winter and you were driving a cab. What were you wearing?

Ray: A long time ago I read or heard an old salesman say: “Every day is special. Dress up for it.” I took that to heart. Even as a kid I tried not to dress like a child but like a adult man, usually guys I saw in the movies. I still dress like that.

It’s all what I call “found art”, that is to say, I bought it in thrift stores for next to nothing.

A lot of next to nothing can add up to a lot of something over a period of time. For example, I own over 1200 neckties. It’s a fact. nine years ago when I was moving I figured I might as well count them as I was packing. Lost count after 1200. Most cost less than a dollar, but still, added up, that’s some arithmetic.

A stylin’ kid of guy? Yes I am. Every day is new so every day is different. I wear the costumes of the story of my life, in which I am the eccentric hero. Might as well dress the part, right?

I have no idea what I was wearing when you rode with me, but I’m sure it was something gentlemanly, seasonally appropriate and possibly anachronistic.

You can see the variety of my outfits in my blogs.

Me: I’m genuinely bummed that I didn’t get to see your outfit. What are you wearing right now?

Ray: Avert your glance, please. Right now I’m not wearing anything.

Me: What’s your favorite comic strip no longer being published?

Ray: Alex Raymond’s FLASH GORDON daily and color strips from the thirties. Each panel is a framable masterpiece of pen and ink.

Me: What’s the greatest thing about Chicago?

Ray: Besides The Singing Cab Driver? The weather, I guess. It does demand that you pay attention to the environment and gives one a reason to own several wardrobes.

Me: “The weather” is not an answer I would have guessed, but you totally sold me on it. When’s the next Chameleon World show?

Ray: The next Chameleon World show is MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 26 at HUNGRY BRAIN, 2319 Belmont, Chicago.

We will also play the CLUB LUCKY stage at 1824 W. Wabansia on SATURDAY, OCTOBER 1st at 4:00 pm as part of COYOTEFEST.

You can check out more about Chameleon World on their website.

Ever had any memorable cab rides?

Yours, Mine, and Ours

I’m lucky enough to belong to two great writing groups, one of which meets in New York every week.

We meet in a Public Space near Julliard close to Lincoln Center. I had never heard of a Public Space- spoken of in capital letters- before I met these excellent people. A Public Space is a place where you have the right, just by being a member of the public, to be there. Seems like a no-brainer, but it’s something of a big deal here. They don’t kick you out because you’re taking too long to finish your cappuccino or someone else wants your table; they only kick you out for being seriously annoying and/or dangerous, in which case the cops do the kicking. Not that I would know about that.

At the Public Space in which we meet there is a Public Restroom. These are rare and highly valued in New York. One of the reasons I’m not revealing the exact location is so that you don’t show up and I have to wait to use the restroom because you got there ahead of me. I live in Jersey. We don’t play nice.

There are actually two public restrooms in this Space, but one of them has no door handle and while you would think you would just be able to push the door open and go in, you can’t. I have no idea how to open the door. I’m not writing about that one.

I’m writing about the other one.

I had to be sneaky to get these pictures. Every corner of this building is under surveillance, and authorities here don’t take too kindly to people taking pictures of the insides of buildings.

A Unisex bathroom. I’m down with that. Except. . . it has multiple stalls. Huh.

Even though the door goes all the way to the floor, it’s weird.

Because girls go here…

seatup — you are totally allowed to leave the seat up

And so do boys.

It got me thinking. Somehow there’s a very European feel to this restroom. I base that on absolutely nothing, because the only two places I’ve ever been to in Europe are London and Berlin. While I did have a unique restroom experience in Berlin which you can read about here, that restroom looked nothing like this restroom, with its instructions on how to flush:

And how to panic:

(Here’s the panic button. You can’t miss it)

My natural inclination, upon walking out of a stall and running into a member of the opposite sex in a public restroom, is to panic. However, to date, I have restrained myself from hitting the panic button. It’s poor form.

Have you ever run across multi-stall unisex restrooms? If so, where? Is it weird, or is that just me?

Seeing Stars

Our elementary school does a fundraiser where they sell deeply discounted amusement park tickets and somehow make money off of them. Being that we live in New Jersey, I’m pretty sure they fell off the back of the truck.

Monday we took the kids to Hershey Park.

Thank god for #3, who took it upon herself to get someone to watch the dogs because it completely slipped my mind. She’s hellbent on doing as many good turns for me as possible so that I let her get contacts this year (8th grade) instead of next. I’m not above being bribed and I kind of like the way this is working out so far. Anyway, back to our trip Monday.

We got started late.

I forgot my camera.

CC forgot his hat, so we dropped two kids off with money for donuts and went back to the house.

CC picked up his hat and I forgot my camera again.

We retrieved the kids and the donuts and went on our way.

The kids fought over donuts and then fell asleep, until the last hour or so when they told each other horrible amusement park death stories, which then degraded into tasteless jokes which I will not repeat here. It’s imperative that there be no public record of what was said in the van. I will say only that I was impressed.

When you enter Hershey Park, kids line up under the candy bar signs to see how tall they are so they know which rides they can get on.

#5 talked about little else over the past week besides his hope that he had grown enough to reach Twizzler status this year. Twizzlers can pretty much go on any ride. Sadly, even with his shoes on, his very best posture, and his hair all spiked up with sunscreen, he was an inch short. He’s still a Hershey bar.

We had a grand time even though it was about a million degrees out. The best part for me came about four in the afternoon. In the distance a big storm was brewing, and gradually the taller roller coasters got shut down. We migrated to an area with shorter rides that were still open. CC and I sat on a bench, the kids all took off in a pack together, and we totally fell asleep. Each time when they finished a ride, they checked in with us and asked if they could go on another ride. Each time we mumbled yes and fell back asleep. The storm winds rolled in and dropped the temperature a blissful twenty degrees. After five rides’ worth of nap, we consulted the guide and found a place to get coffee and hiked over there. We all reconvened, the rain came down, and it was pretty much the best thing I have ever felt. It was just like that song by The Who.

Plus, my nose wasn’t broken.

I suppose now is a good time to tell you about 2010’s Log Ride Incident. It is why I think of #5 every time I put on my sunglasses, which is every single day unless I don’t leave the house.

We started our visit last year by riding The Comet, a roller coaster designated safe for Hershey Bars. The next roller coaster we found was for Twizzlers on up. #5 was too short to ride. So we split, and I took him to the log ride while CC took everyone else on the big scary coaster.

I love log rides. They’re so peaceful and then you get that little teeny scare at the end followed by a big splash, which is exactly what you need on a hot day at an amusement park.

Bolstered by his prior experience on The Comet, #5 was well aware that this wasn’t a thrill ride. He was feeling very brave. When we went down the giant hill at the end, he leaned forward, and went from sitting to squatting, poised as if to leap. I was immediately convinced he was going to jump to his death. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him back down, sitting against me.

At which point we completed the hill and the log caught, as it is supposed to, on the chain-thingie that keeps it from careening out of control.

Which sent #5’s head back full force into my face.

Full force into the bridge of my nose, to be exact.

He giggled and screamed at the ride, completely unaware that anything was amiss, and I tried not to pass out.

In the past I have experienced small traumas that caused me to involuntarily swear, moan, or shut my eyes; this time I couldn’t speak or move, my eyes were wide open, and I saw little silvery stars, lots of them, kinda like glitter. No birds. It was the most pain I’ve ever been in without losing consciousness.

Much to the disappointment of my kids and my work colleagues, there was no blood, nor were there black eyes, and my nose was not repositioned on my face, but according to my ENT it was, in fact, broken, right across the bridge where my sunglasses sit.

#5 was pretty proud of himself when he learned his very own head was that strong. I still have the same sunglasses, they just sit a bit differently now on my reformed nose.

This year, I went on the big scary roller coaster and made CC take #5 on the log ride.

What’s your favorite thing to do at an amusement park?