Well, October is upon us - the insects have been departing their bugsy bodies into that good night, and the silence of autumn and pre-winter is here - with it's charming silence and times of reflection. Well, in Vermont anyways, in NYC, the noise never stops. What this also means, is that in just a few short weeks, the iconic body on frame Crown Victoria's, will also be entering that good night. On October 31, 2015, the garage I lease from, will be lining them up, and without so much as a flinch, be kicking them out of the parking lot for the new 'Taxi of Tomorrow', which has been sifting flour on the streets of New York for many yesterdays - all the way back to 2012. But now, it's the law. Sad days are here.
He asked me if I was a flat fare, to which I told him I wasn't - meter only. He wasn't happy about that, telling me the green Boro Taxi's he can barter with, to which I pointed to the meter and told him whatever this says is the cost. So he said fine, take us to 163rd and Broadway - a straight shot. The odor of intoxicants emitting from his mouth was quite powerful, and I at once heard the unmistakable sound of what I believed to be an El Presidente beer being opened in the back seat, to which I confirmed in the mirror by watching him guzzle it. He had earbuds in, and was cranking some bachata, but was also having a convo with his Spanish speaking girl friend at the same time; I didn't understand how he could do that, but he was. She too had earbuds in. It made no sense at all to me. He was quite animated, and uh.....feeling that his oats were needing sowing. He was all over her in the backseat, to her acceptance and giggles. I could hear his empty beer bottle rolling on the floor, kicked by his foot as he started kissing and caressing her, and he was on top of her. Now, for perspective - it is still light out - it was just starting to become dusk. I continued on, occasionally glancing back there - and I noticed every now and then he would stop, and would simply sit up, look out the window looking angry, then immediately go back to his desire - and start mauling her to her giggles and.....in time....moans. Now, it's tough to see back there with the partition, as well as trying to play it cool and not be a perv, but at no time did any clothes come completely off I'm sorry (and a little glad) to say. But, judging by the moans and a couple of Spanish words I am familiar with, his pesky little fingers were doing most of the talking. Her foot kept kicking the partition, and Spanish, reverberated about the cab. She was leaned against the passenger side door, with him half on top of her, and feeling her contours. His earbuds were still in, and on full blast.....weird o rama. For quite a spell, I could hear her moaning, and well, I think you get the jist of what I assume he was doing with those chatterbox fingers, before he sat back and a favor returned. I couldn't remember if he wanted 165th or 163rd, so I kept asking, but got no answer from anyone, so I just guessed it was 163rd. Since he was sitting up at this point, I did everything I could to avoid looking in the mirror, so as not to interrupt whatever story she was telling to his belt buckled area. As we rolled up, the meter said $17 and he handed me a $20 as she collected and straightened herself out - and said to keep it. As he picked up his stuff and beer bottle, he closed the door, and thus concluded my first NYC Taxi back seat sexy time experience. I looked in the back seat at the next light to make sure there was nothing that needed to be cleaned, and there wasn't. Being the germaphobe that I am, I couldn't help to think about the back door door handle though. Ew.
So, my social experiment OVER, and quite pleased someone had gotten a little sort of kind of nookie in the back seat, I headed back downtown and immediately called Ori to apprise her of my events; however, she wasn't very enthusiastic about it. Hey, I'm a country kid, this doesn't happen where I come from! Anyhow, I grabbed a number of fares, but they were all short trips here and there. It was a weird shift -and call me naive, but I was surprised because many of the people that climbed in, were really rude. I dropped some tourists from France (they were very pleasant) off at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and rolling south on 5th Avenue turning onto 59th Street, an older African American woman and two young children hailed me at the light; I motioned to her to jump in. She wanted to go to 96th and Columbus Avenue. As I headed into Columbus Circle, the police had Central Park West all closed off near Trump Towers with an accident or something, so, I headed up Broadway and turned north onto Amsterdam, which runs north, parallel with Columbus Avenue, which runs south. So as I'm doing this, she rather nastily exclaims "Why are you going this way?" (I've heard this a few times...hey..I'm a rookie give me a break). I told her about Central Park West, and that this was the most direct route. On and on and on she sat back there griping - telling me I was scamming her etc. I told her I wasn't, and that the trip was so short, there really wasn't much room to scam anyone and assured her that I wasn't. Still, she wasn't having any of it, and I once again told her that the way I was going, really was the easiest and shortest route there was. I told her a number of times that if she wanted, I could cut across back to Central Park West (the portions that were now open) if she wanted, and she told me no. This lady just would not stop squawking in the seat that she's no sucker, and was mumbling calling me names, while the kids just sat in silence. Anyhow - before I got there, I killed the meter to just appease her - it wasn't worth arguing over the 50 cents she thought I was so hungry for, so it came to 10 bucks. She handed me a 10, grabbed those kids, called me a mother fucker and slammed the door so hard, it instantly brought rage to my head, but I decided to let my cooler side prevail. All it takes is for a passenger to dial 311 and make my life complicated, even if I'm in the right. I don't have the time or the inkling to deal with that over a dollar.
Towards the end of the night, I had picked up three young women on those lettered Avenues near East Houston Street; they had been out eating and drinking, were dressed to the nines, and thought they were just fabulous. Their stale booze breath, mixed with perfume and whatever eatery odor they were at, emanated throughout the car's interior. So the ring leader of this trio, starts chatting with me, but it was drunk brave chatter - all condescending......designed to make me think she was interested in my actual answers, but really just making fun, because after all, I'm JUST a lowly taxi driver.......all low key digs like that, to which her little friends would giggle and tee hee, and playfully telling her to stop it, like she is just like, so crazy tee hee. I played along - let them have their little fun, because at that moment, I had cut off an Uber car by accident, as sometimes it's hard to see what's behind you with those partitions. Plus, the seats in these Crown Vics sit really really low; I look like a munchkin in it. This Uber guy was so beyond pissed, he kept the horn blaring for an entire block. Then....as he pulled next to me as we rolled along, he kept blaring it. I was growing tired of it, so If he went toot toot, I went toot toot; and it was enraging him. Finally, at a stop light, he is on my right and honking for my attention, so I finally gave it to him and rolled the window down, to his great glee. It was an Indian guy - and he says "You. You IdeeiOUGHT. You IdeeiOUGHT". I told him to chill out, that I didn't see him, and that if he gets this pissed off at getting cut off in NYC, he's going to have an awfully long night honking and stewing. He then says "You IdeeiOUGHT". In the backseat, the ringleader girl is yelling at the Uber guy to fuck off, playing protector of yours truly. Ugh....booze.
So, between the gabbing little twits slyly poking fun at how poor I was, and this knucklehead next to me, I decided I'd had almost enough for the day/night. I managed to fall back into the patterned fold of traffic along 6th Avenue and dropped the privileged little Queens off on Broadway at Columbia University. Gee, what a shocker.
4M15:and following..a small gallery of pics for giggles if you're into that sort of thing.
Till next time.....