Driving my Taxi up Noe Street in the Castro about 11:00pm, I noticed some commotion in front of a garage door. Three men had surrounded a Hispanic gay man. He appeared to be hemmed in and uncomfortable. I stopped my cab in the middle of the street, got out, stood at the rear of the car and shouted, "Is everything OK over there? Two of the three men locked eyes on me and stared. The third took a few steps in my direction,
"Yeah, everything's fine," then stood still until I did something. I climbed back into the car, looked unconcerned, and pulled ahead five carlengths. I watched the leader return to the assemblage, noted that the man in trouble said nothing.
I backed back down to my original stopped position, watched the return to aggressive posturing on the part of the three men, and the fearful stance of the victim. I stepped back out onto the street. In my best drill sergeant command voice, I shouted, "That's enough! YOU! (pointing at the victim) GET OVER HERE AND GET IN THE CAR! He stepped between the frozen trio and jogged out to my taxi. He got in the back seat. I watched the men remain stock still, then I returned to the drivers seat, locked the doors and accelerated up the hill.
The man thanked me, told me he'd been afraid, he was being robbed and maybe about to get a beating. But he was not going to let the scare interfere with his night out. I drove him around the block to the crowded bar of his choice, where he'd be safe, and he hopped out and disappeared into the club.
I stopped a robbery and assault from happening, and I didn't have to fight the three thugs. I was safe. I felt I'd contributed. I felt good.
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