HNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGHHH!!

That sound summed up the end of my Thursday night / Friday Morning shift but it was still a decent night and interesting from the very beginning.

I got to the garage about 3pm on Thursday and handed my license through the slot in the filthy window at the garage. It's just about what you'd expect a taxi garage to look like. It's a kinda grungy little room, and I use that term loosely, off the main service area. There's a little room with a door and 2 bullet resistant (I assume) windows with slots at the bottom that are pretty gross. You hand your license to the dispatcher and then wait for your name to be called. There were a bunch of drivers hanging around waiting for cars, the largest group it seemed was a bunch of African guys all kind chatting together, and a smattering of many different ethnic groups loosely grouped together bullshitting. It wasn't like the groups were totally exclusionary of others but there was definitely a race/ethnic separation going on, not in an evil way just in the way that we gravitate to those that are similar to ourselves. I saw a group of guys somewhere near my type of people, an odd mix of a few Caribbean guys, white guys, Arabs, and Spanish. Not Spain Spanish but South American Spanish.

I'm pretty good with people as much as I hate them sometimes so I sidled up to them and worked into an odd conversation that was going on. I see one of the drivers showing 3 little white packets to everyone there as a lively conversation began. Apparently when he parked his car he got out and looked down to find 3 packets of heroin just sitting there. How do I know it was heroin? I grew up in New York City, in a decent neighborhood but I also had my life running the streets with some unsavory elements doing stupid shit. No, I've never even touched heroin, it was one of the few drugs I was just too fucking scared of trying even in my crazier days. So anyway I knew from the packaging it was dope. Myself, the white and Caribbean drivers all exchanged a few quick drug related war stories from our youth. I guess the Arab guys never experimented back when they were young or wouldn't admit it. I wouldn't admit some of the shit I did when I was a kid either, so I get it. One guy was talking about how you can't get addicted to heroin if you sniff it and other completely stupid shit along those lines. I wasn't going to argue the point of how dumb that was so I just nodded and let him go on.

In the end the packages wound up in the hands of a Caribbean mechanic and after joking about using it and getting his balls busted about how he wouldn't do it, he finally dumped the packages out on the ground and crushed the powder into the ground under his shoe leaving a little white smear on the ground where his shoe dragged over it. I was glad to see that shit gone, the last thing I wanted was to see a guy responsible for keeping the cars that I'll be driving safe doing heroin. Later I pictured some sick dope fiend retracing his steps all over Long Island City going crazy about the 3 packages. I've seen people that are dope sick and it looks like complete hell. Oh well, just another day in the life of that junkie I guess.

As this is wrapping up at about 4pm and I'm getting into a conversation about pot smoking and one guy is talking about how some people get paranoid when they smoke, my name comes over the speaker, very much like on the TV show Taxi but without a Danny Devito type doing it. The guy behind the window is kinda expressionless, a nice guy but it seems any expression is forced. I don't really give a shit, I don't have to be his friend, I just gotta get a cab and make some cash. I get my cab and ask the garage guy to go over the meter with me one more time, I'm glad I did because the buttons were hard to press, so he took it out to fix it. I was just kinda standing around waiting so I could get out there. About 20 minutes later he brings the meter back pops it in and I'm off to do battle with the streets of New York.

My shift got a good start, I grabbed a fare right at the base of the Queensboro Bridge going to Little Italy. The passengers were 2 guys, one was guido type, I mean he was such a stereotype of guys I grew up with, even his last name was the same as a very famous Chicago Gangster. I overheard this and chuckled because I got the impression he tries way to hard to live up to it, as he booked a hotel room on his cell phone. The other was some other ethnicity, Indian or Arab maybe. He was caught up in a conversation with what I assume was his girlfriend and it didn't sound like a good one. He proceeded to tell his friend about some argument they had. It sounded like she wanted a kid and he had no desire for another kid. I'm pretty sure he mentioned something about having a kid of his own already. I can understand that, I'm not a kid person and lucky for me, neither is my wife.In the end it sounds like she's getting the old heave-ho sometime soon. There was traffic so I had them with me for a while and they got to talking about business and went back and forth about clients. The good thing about those types is they usually tip well. $5 on a $20 ride, not too shabby.

I find fares pretty quickly at that time of day, there's money all over the streets for a cab driver on Thursdays early evenings. Everyone is going out to party it seems, which I never quite understood. Isn't Friday a work day? How the fuck does someone get wasted and go into work hungover? But I'm apparently in the minority on this view. I start my night bouncing all over Manhattan like a pinball caught in the bumpers taking people to bars, stores, and restaurants. I pick up a group of Spanish tourists in from Spain and apparently taking advantage of the weak dollar judging by all the shopping bags they had, this is a good thing because New York needs all the money we can get with the economy crashing like it is. I took them to B & H Photo on 34th street for more shopping. They spoke English well enough to chat so I made some small talk while I whizzed them through Manhattan. They were nice people who confirmed my assumption that the weak dollar drew them here for all the bargains they can get.

I'd drop one fare off and get another pretty quickly. I was given some advice which made sense, when you drop off a fare wait 20 seconds or so and many times another fare would jump right in. In this frenzy of activity I got to test my knowledge of Central Park and its transverses. The transverses are the roads used to cross the park from east to west and there are 4 of them. This is essential knowledge for a taxi driver as these roads are vital to getting around. Central Park is huge, it covers about 50 blocks so knowing where to cross is vital.

In this time I picked up one lady who was a reserved Upper East Side type. She looked to be in her 40's, I later found out she was over 50 which was surprising. I would imagine it's not often as a taxi driver you have a customer boost your ego like this one did. We were making small talk as I try to do with any customers I can. This is a change for most New Yorkers and seems to work wonders with my tips. Sometimes it progresses past small talk depending on time and the person. I'm pretty open to a point, it's not like I'm ever going to see any of these people again. Somehow the conversation steered her to tell me that she was offered a position as an administrative judge for the Taxi and Limousine Commission but turned it down because she couldn't live with taking money from hard working drivers. When she said that I fell in love with her right there. I proceeded to tell her about how I always thought of being a lawyer when I was a kid but never moved in that direction.

Back then I wanted it for the money, now I would only become a lawyer to work in the public interest, but I didn't want to incur all the loans on law school and then be forced into some kind of corporate or ambulance chasing capacity just to pay my loans and I was also worried that I was too old to make the move. I'm only 36 so I'm a fucking retard for thinking its too late but I can be retarded sometimes. I want to do something that helps people in need not make some fat corporate douche richer. Upon telling her this, she tells me that she didn't go to law school until she was 38 and had kids that her husband didn't help much with due to his career and such. She also told me that there are law schools that will give large scholarships to people that guarantee to work in the public interest. This was news to me, but I also hadn't researched much on it to begin with. I didn't think anyone wanted to encourage more lawyers in the world. I also mentioned how I was accepted into a special program which would have had me start Hunter College High School in 7th grade but my parents wouldn't let me go due to my having to take the train there and home everyday. This was probably one of the worst decisions my parents ever made regarding my education and she agreed. This is something I still haven't forgiven them for to this day. She proceeded to tell me how I was an extremely articulate and intelligent sounding person and she really hopes I take the plunge. The ease at which I conversed with her made her think I would be a great lawyer. This was better than any tip she could have given me. Most New Yorkers will know that the Upper East Side is a super wealthy part of New York and with that kind of money snobbishness is the norm. This lady was not a snob by any means but still a part of New York's aristocracy, I read them referred to that way on another NY taxi drivers blog and it was such a fitting description of the people of that area. Lots of old money and very powerful people live there so to feel like I won over one of them felt really good to me. I dropped her at Lincoln Center and left elated to continue my night.

The rest of the night was pretty normal. I picked up a couple of Irish tourists who spoke with me about "The Troubles" and health care there versus here. I love their accents and they were so friendly so I was kinda disappointed when the ride was over. I think Ill survive though :P

I whiz through the city until about 2am when I catch a fare to Astoria, Queens from Bleeker St in The Village, 3 drunk guys, one of them lost their job due to the crisis in the financial industry, he didn't seem to concerned thanks to the alcohol which I could easily smell in the from the back seat through the open partition. God, I hate drunk peoples breath!! It was an uneventful ride other than them complementing me on getting them home without direction from them. I shoot back into the city again and decide to see if the bars in the Upper East Side were busy, this was a mistake, it was a ghost town so I make my way down 2nd Ave. to the Lower East Side where my HNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGHHH!! moment occurred.

I was driving along looking for my final fares of the night, at that time it's all gravy for me so I'm ready for another good night to turn great if I get lucky. As I'm thinking, "maybe I can get lucky and catch a New Jersey run I can really make my night a blockbuster night."

All of a sudden I am scared shitless by a loud WHAM, some douchebag fucker must have swung left into my lane a bit to make a right turn in a minivan and clipped my mirror smashing it into a million pieces. It's not a mack truck you fucktard!!!!! MOTHERFUCKER!!! I hit the brakes and catch my temper and the asshole is gone, he didn't stop and now here I sit with a busted mirror and not even a plate number to tell the garage, this also means my shift is done almost 2 hours early, I could have easily picked up another few bucks in that time so I'm fuming mad. I can feel my ears on fire from my blood boiling. I get out to check the car, praying that it was only the mirror. I check the mirror and the only the glass is broken but the main assembly is still in tact. As for the rest of the car, there's not a mark on it so I figure I won't get much shit for it back at the garage.

I pulled into the garage not long after that and the $10 shift discount I'm supposed to get is now shot to shit according to the douchebag behind the glass. I've been told that you usually tip the cashier a dollar or two when he cashes you out for the night, well this guy will get dick for a tip for as long as I deal with him for that $10. I didn't think it was fair, one thing has nothing to do with another but such is life in the big city.

I did have another interesting trip but this is so long already I'll save it for the next post.