My Volkswagen Nightmare.

See, here’s the thing right?  I love having a Volkswagen Jetta TDI Sportswagen.  I really do.  It’s much more fun to drive than the Toyota Sienna van I used to have.  The only problem with it though?  It’s constantly at the shop.  It reminds me of Bob Sanders (my football fans know whom I’m talking about)- playing at a high level when healthy but more often than not dealing with injuries.  Can this car withstand the rigors of the NYC streets and be a viable cab over the course of 6 years?  So far the answer is a resounding no.

The cab has already needed to get its entire engine replaced.  The dealership claimed that gasoline got into the engine, thus damaging it; however I had a tough time believing this to be a true statement as neither myself nor my partner had ever put gasoline in a car that’s clearly a diesel.  He fills up at a Shell, while I fill up at a Hess.  Hell, the Hess gas station has separate pumps for gasoline and diesel so that’s dummy-proof right there.  After telling them this, they then attempted to place the blame on the gas station(s) citing that maybe the fuel from there might have gotten contaminated and/or mixed up.  Again, another claim that’s hard to believe.  With that in mind, they agreed to fix the problem free of charge under warranty and after waiting a month to get back on the road- we were off and running again.

This lasted…oh about 6 weeks.

The day after I returned from vacation on October 17th, it was a raw, rainy Wednesday.  I hadn’t driven since October 9th but refreshed and feeling like a million bucks I was looking forward to getting back in the swing of things.  I then receive a phone call from my dad telling me that my partner just had the cab stall out on him somewhere in Queens.  Immediately I’m thinking “oh shit, you gotta be kidding me” because I determined that the engine once again went out.  After getting the car towed (AAA doesn’t cover tows for taxis by the way), my dad and the partner went to the dealership to get a word as to what happened to the car.

Yep, same exact issue once again.  Same exact excuse.

Apparently they showed my dad the sample of the gas that somehow musta gotten mixed in as well as a picture.  Knowing how shady car mechanics can be, we once again couldn’t find ourselves to believe them.  How can you do a job on something and then have to get it fixed all over again?  I question how good they did the job the first time…or it’s just the fact of life- that we purchased a lemon.

Now, the manager of the dealership requested that we bring in a sample from the gas station that we normally fill up from.  Since my partner had been driving the entire week that I was gone, we went over to Shell, got some diesel and returned to the dealership with it.  The service manager then concluded that the sample was excellent and non-contaminated.  So…what does that mean?

We still have to pay out-of-pocket to get this engine fixed.  This time they won’t cover it under warranty.  Fed up with this game of he said, she said, we decided to send a report out to the Better Business Bureau.  We’ll see what happens.

Well, tomorrow morning I will pick up the car but since we had to turn in the rate card and medallion over to TLC since the cab was inactive…I cannot begin driving until Monday.  Monday is going to be a long day- we have to pick up the items, do a mile run over at the meter shop, and then get the inspection done (inspections are done every four months or so).  I have a potentially major project in the works, but it will have to be pushed back a little while longer.  Hopefully it’s not too late- more details to follow.

And so on.

Deja Vu.

Yeah no stories lately, you wanna know why?

MY CAB IS BACK IN THE FUCKIN SHOP AGAIN!  And for the exact same issue that I had a little over a month ago too with the diesel engine.  We just got that bitch replaced and now it’s likely that we’re gonna have to get another one.

Oh, not to mention that we found out that as of October 3rd that there was a recall on the Jetta Sportswagens.

I love my car for what it is, but this is absolute bullshit.

The Run Around and Uptown.

Last night I went to JFK because I noticed that the city was slowing down.  I normally don’t work Wednesdays so I didn’t have a set plan on how I wanted to get shit done.  I figure the worst case scenario is that I get a short-haul ticket then go home early, best case I get a city trip Midtown or Downtown and I can grab a chicken gyro.

I didn’t mind waiting at the lot for nearly an hour.  I got a chance to catch up on the wild night of baseball that I kept getting information about and to give my car and myself a rest.
(Sidenote- as a Mets fan I could not have been happier with seeing two teams collapse worse than the Mets did, especially with one of them being the Braves.)
So finally around 1230 or so I get my assignment to go to Terminal 7.  I didn’t think much of it because I was there Tuesday night a little later than that and still got a fare.  When it’s that late, the dispatchers normally send us to either 4, 5 or 8 though…sometimes 7 like I got.  Unfortunately for me, they sent one cab too many and I was that unfortunate last cab.  After waiting for about 10-15 minutes, I get sent to Terminal 2 (Delta).  I HATE THAT TERMINAL WITH A PASSION! Plus I’m wondering if maybe a late night flight just arrived or some shit, because this is extremely rare.

Whatever though, I head out there…then I see a rush of cars behind me spearheaded by this dude in a Jets cap tryin everything in his power to overtake me.  Oddly enough, we all got deked by this Indian dude who wrapped around and cut all of us.  It was all for naught though, we get there and that too, was empty.  Even the dispatcher who was there felt bad “What the…seriously?!” and I tell him “Yeah no shit.”  Off to Terminal 4.

I’m gettin frustrated now as I’m bein passed around like hot coochie in a fraternity house.  The Jets cap dude is successful at cutting me off and in retaliation, I cut off the Indian dude who deked me from before.  I have a bad feeling about getting cut because I know he’s gonna get the good trip that I woulda gotten…and I’m gonna get an ass trip, I just know it.  In my head, I figure I’m not gonna get a short-haul, but it’s gonna be an uptown trip.  Wait for it.

I get this Spanish dude who doesn’t speak English all too well, nor does it seem like he has any clue what’s goin on.  My destination: 145th and Amsterdam at 130am.  You’ve gotta be fuckin kiddin me, I WILL get my $45 flat rate fare that I hoped for, just not somewhere where I desire being at.  He gets into my cab and it smells like boogers.  Now, idk if it’s really a booger smell, but it’s that smell you notice from people who hadn’t blown their nose so their snot is crustin on their upper lip n shit.  But it protrudes all over their body.  Alright, so maybe it is boogers.  He asks me if I have change for a $100 which I somehow do.  Then he asks me how much it’s gonna be, I tell him $45 plus the toll so it’s gonna be $50.30 (but really, who’s counting the 30 cents?).  The booger smell is killing me, even with the wind whippin in my face as I’m drivin 65+, there’s no one on the road so who gives a shit.  I seriously considered closing my partition door.  145th is weird because my GPS will tell me to go into the Bronx first, take the 145th Street Bridge and then go across it…but to not make my customers worried, I take the Harlem River Drive to 135th and take that across to St. Nicholas Avenue, take that to 145th and go from there.

“You know I say 145 and Amsterdam not 135.”
I’m not stupid…I know this, I’m getting there.  I really replied “I know.”

I get to 145th and St. Nick and make it up to Amsterdam.  I stop the meter.  He then tells me “No, not Amsterdam” and I reply “What do you mean, that’s what you told me though…145th and Amsterdam.”  He says “My mistake, I meant St. Nicholas, I need C train.”  Well, sucks to be you because the C doesn’t run right now, but mainly out of the frustration of being uptown combined with getting cut off and getting slutted by the dispatchers I wasn’t pleased at any of this.  I book a U-Turn and drop him off at St. Nicholas.

I help get his bag out and he pays me the $100.  I give him back two $20s and two $5s.  “Noooo…come on you told me it was $45.”  Are you fuckin kiddin me dude?  I did tell you $50.  I reply “Yeah I said $45, plus the toll..and that’s $50.  In fact, lemme take your two 5s…”  He replies “No no it’s okay…” I ain’t havin this anymore:

Me- Gimme your two 5s…here’s a $10 instead since you’re not even gonna bother tippin me…and oh you forgot these in the car (he had a backpack and some sort of envelope).
Him- Thank you.
Me- Go fuck yourself.  (speeds off)

I don’t like my time being wasted.  Period.  If you’re not gonna tip me on a regular fare, it sucks and pisses me off too, but not as much as on a $45 fare.  I have no respect for people who do that.  Chalk it up to being frustrated or whatever else, but it’s so bush-league…and playing dumb on top of that?  Nah.

And so on.

 

Queens Shit.

It’s like winning the lottery when you find a cab on Saturday nights anytime after 10pm.  This is one of the laundry list of reasons why I no longer fuck with them.  What makes Saturdays worse than Fridays is that if you wind up going to Brooklyn, getting back to Manhattan takes a while with the Williamsburg and Manhattan Bridges both being slammed between 10p-1a…hence why at times I decide to do intra-Brooklyn trips.  But anyway:

On my bucket list of things I’ve wanted to do- I had “Pick Up a Stripper” near the top of my list…and now I can check that off. These two Latina chicks were heading to some spot in Astoria (can’t remember its name right now but I know it’s on 49th street and 25th avenue next to the BQE) and yeah they were lookin fine.  Did I originally know they were goin to a strip joint?  Nope, not until I pulled over to there and seen other chicks in 6 inch heels walkin in.  They paid me their $13.90 fare in 15 ones.  Some of the 1s were smeared with lipstick.  It’s that dirty money.

As I’m about to pull off, this dude asks me if I’m free.  No yellow cabs are gonna come around here for the fuck of it, so he called for a livery cab.  He needed to go to two places which I always find to be sketchy but when you gotta take care of business and don’t have a car to do it, it seems to be the way to go.  After giving me the addresses to both spots, I tell him to hop in.  He starts talkin to me about how he was trying to get home but his driver got him lost.  Or “lost”, since you’re now at a strip joint.  He was beside himself because he feels the driver did that to him on purpose.  I don’t really care for the story.  He swears I’m takin him the wrong way…but really I’m not, my GPS isn’t gonna steer you the wrong way bruh.  We stop at a red light and this cute Greek chick crosses past us hailing for a cab.  He catcalls her saying that she’s beautiful, gorgeous that whole schlep.  Like 99% of girls do nowadays, she ignores him and he gets tight.  “Man these girls be lookin at me like I’m an ailen or a lizard, somethin.  Like damn they not gonna give me the time of day.”  The problem really bruh is that you’re tryin to holla from a cab.  You ever heard of the song “No Scrubs?” You’re not gonna get attention from the passenger’s side.  But yes, white girls are more skeptical of cat calls from minorities than from their own kind.

Anyway, I drop him off at the first stop (he’s goin to pick up money) and per protocol, I leave the meter running.  He doesn’t take too long, maybe around 5 minutes and he gets back in.  Then, he wants to argue with me:
Him- Nah nah nah nah nah how is it $11.30 now?? It was like $9.70 when I got out earlier.
Me- I know, I kept the meter running as you’re supposed to do.
Him- Don’t be tryin to fuck with my money…I know when I do this it’s usually like $16 round trip.
Me- Um…I wouldn’t know how to tamper the meter and even if I did, what would I gain out of it, seriously?
Him- I’m not tryin to argue with you, I’m just sayin…yeah I’m debating but not tryin to start an argument.
DK’s Brain- Come again LeBron?
Him- But I appreciate you pickin me up, man that last guy was a fuckin asshole.  You can’t be droppin me off somewhere where I don’t know nobody.  I mean, the place don’t matter you could put me in…in Whiteyland with lillies and green grass but what if somethin pops off?  I don’t wanna get in an altercation somewhere where I don’t know nobody.
Me- Word I feel you.

He pays his $17 and we’re off to the races.

And so on.

Desperados.

Before I get into this though, one of my current pet peeves is when people get in my cab and tell me to turn up the music.  I do so…yet these people tend to be hella skimpy with the tips- hence why it’s a pet peeve.  Can anyone explain to me why?  I am fortunate though that I’m working now as opposed to in the 80s.  From what this old-timer told me, they used to only make 43% of whatever the fare was plus whatever the tip was.  If it were still like that, there would be a lot less people on the roads trust me…though the one advantage to that was you didn’t have to worry about garage leasing fees.

Anyhow back to the topic at hand.  Girls are always actin as if we’re creepy crawlers and shit.  Yeah some are overly aggressive, but it’s unfortunate that if you’re not attractive in their eyes that you will get placed in that category.  I do one of my Brooklyncide trips going down Delancey Street and some chick and dude hail for a cab.  Or so I thought…the chick gets in and the guy she’s with tries to get in right behind her.  A little skirmish ensues with her pushing him off her while he (to no avail- frankly he was as skinny as she was) tries to force his way in.  She tells me to pull off…yeah I will when he gets the fuck off my door and you close it properly.  I can’t even lock it because of it.  Fortunately I didn’t have to bark on him.  The broad is hella flustered and is successful at slamming the door as I pull off.

(Sidenote- the sign in the back of my cab explicitly says to not slam the doors, but she gets a pass…unlike this dumb as rocks hipster broad who slams it not once, but twice because she had forgotten something in the back seat.  You can understand Tolstoy but not this?  C’mon son.)

I was getting annoyed because I’ve been on the road since 630pm and didn’t even take a lunch break all night.  To be fair, I wasn’t really hungry but I had successfully reached my goal for the night.  But, the #1 mistake cab drivers make is believing that they have one more trip in them so at around 58th street near Columbus Circle this black chick and Spanish dude hail for a cab.  To be fair, I should have just went off-duty but I couldn’t resist a potential $20+ fare even if they probably weren’t gonna tip.  The broad gets in and the dude tries to too…but she just asks him for the money to take the cab home.  Where is home?  I have no idea at this point but since he wasn’t gettin the pussy, he wasn’t giving her shit.  I ain’t mad at him for that and not being a sucker…but now this broad apparently has no money either.  She tells me she’s goin to Sutter and Mother Gaston out in Brownsville but she has no money???  So you thought you were gonna get a sponsor, your sponsor cuts ties with you (as he should) and now you’re fucked because there’s no chance in hell I’m gonna head out there for free.  I don’t care if you’re Vida Guerra yo…and she ain’t look that good either.

Her: I’ll do anything.
Me:  Whatchu mean?
Her: Anything.
DK’s Brain: What, she’s gonna suck your dick for a ride?  O LETS DO IT.
DK’s Conscience: Man she ain’t gonna suck you off nor fuck your brains out with her drunk ass so kick her to the curb.  Plus you know how chicks are, one false move and you get swiss cheese’d up like Biggie once said.
Me: Sorry if you ain’t paying you gotta go.
Her: (gets on the phone and wastes my time staying in the cab for no good reason)
Her: Can you at least drop me off to the train station? (which is 1000 feet away)  Now I have to take the train home.
DK’s Brain: Womp womp.

YEAH.

And so on.

 

Stinkbomb.

I’ve had people smellin like pure alcohol, which is common on weekends and I’m used to that.  I’ve had people smellin like armpits, which is common with Europeans and I’m used to that.  I’ve had people puke in my cab, which is uncommon but it’s not as if I don’t know what puke smells like.  All of these smells are unpleasant for sure but I’ve dealt with them.

Yes, I’m also used to people smellin like shit.  But, you assume that this would only be reserved on the streets and on public transportation.  I mean, I’ve lived in NYC my entire life and have probably dealt with every smell imaginable.  However, people coming into a cab smelling as such?  This was a second time (first time picking up someone from the airport).  It’s tough to describe it but it’s like someone took a shit and forgot to flush it for 24 hours.  Marinated shit in water.  Thanksgiving Turkey shit.  NIGHTMARES.

I pick this lady up on 46th between 8th and 9th unsuspecting of what was gonna happen to my nostrils.  My allergies are kinda acting up as we speak, but usually it’s my sinuses that would cockblock my sense of smell.  Not last night though, it was more sneezing but anyhow.  She struggles to get in and immediately my cab takes a turn for the worse.  Fortunately she isn’t going too far (Port Authority) but I’m wondering why she can’t walk the four blocks to head over there.  Now granted, she was struggling to walk as a heavier-set woman and who knows, she may be handicapped too…
(DK’s Brain interrupts- MAN WHAT THE FUCK THOUGH??  Comin into my car like this, you gonna kill my business with this stench…it best not be a permastench)

Anyhow, I roll BOTH of my front windows down.  You don’t wanna be rude but my goodness.  I normally don’t drive at a frantic pace a la Oregon Ducks football…but this HAD to be done.  I get to PABT in about 3 minutes from there and I have to drop her off across the street from the entrance because a U-Turn down 42nd street is near suicidal…not to mention there was a cop right there.  There was a Duane Reade right where I dropped her off so frankly, if she didn’t wanna give me the $5 and use that towards soap/deoderant/SOMETHING, I honestly wouldn’t have lost sleep over it.  A part of me felt bad that I couldn’t make the U-Turn to make her walk easier…but I became disoriented and had to immediately spray the back of my car with the clutch ArmorAll Air Freshener Protectant that eradicated the stench.  Oh, and roll down my windows to the max.

And..COUGH..so on.

The Freaks Come Out At Night.

But you already knew that.

Last night wasn’t the best night for me I’ll tell you that.  The penny-pinching populace was definitely in the building, with their $1 credit card tips out in full force.  I decided to dedicate my sign in the cab last night to the death of air conditioning requests.  I’m so glad temperatures have dropped so I don’t have to deal with turning it on anymore.  This dude (who wound up tipping me $1.50 on a $17.50 fare anyway so he’s useless) questioned my sign.  He told me that people feel “more taken care of” when the AC is on.  That’s fine…when it’s actually warm out, not when it’s 70 degrees.  Shit, anytime I have clowns tell me to turn my music up and I’m “taking care of them”, it’s almost always a $1 tip.  Fuck outta here.

Some broad flipped me off after I shook my head that my cab was NOT free.  For some reason, she felt that I had pulled over to the side…but in reality, I was only trying to get onto the left lane to turn off of 1st avenue.  I told her to shove her finger up her pussy (which would likely be her only action of the night) in which she promptly told me to fuck off.  Mission accomplished.

Brooklyn held me down more than Manhattan did yesterday…which is expected as long as your trip doesn’t originate from Williamsburg.

There’s nothing more entertaining than watching people hop out of a cab without paying…and then the driver of said cab getting out and demanding that they pay or he’ll call the police.  Since you can’t physically assault your passenger or you lose your license, it’s almost always shoving matches.  I don’t blame the driver in this particular situation because traffic around Little Italy was an absolute disaster (and will be for the next couple of weeks with the San Gennaro festival going on).

But anyway, around 330am I was up on 6th avenue and 54th street where I dropped someone off by the Warwick Hotel.  It was straight, there was an accident involving a cab driver and some random dude, so that slowed shit down.  I pick up this guy around 55th and he wants to head downtown to EVill.

Him: Do you know where Blue Door is?
Me: What?
Him: Blue Door…it’s a video store that sells porn.
DK’s Brain: oh?
Me: No. Honestly the only stores I know that do are one on 14th street and some down by the West 4th area.
Him: It’s on 1st between 1st and 2nd.  You can take me there right?
DK’s Brain: You’re in my cab already dummy.
Me: Obviously, you go wherever you want…although you should look it up to make sure you have the right address.
Him: I’m gonna do that right now.  I wanna get naughty…you know what I’m saying?
DK’s Brain: Who asks these things?
Me: Umm…I suppose so?  Hopefully by yourself…or something.
(awkward silence)
DK’s Brain: What kinda man tells another man that he wants to get naughty though?
(somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue)

I have taken someone to a porn store once before, but at least that guy was MUCH more discreet about it.  For you horn dogs, Blue Door is on 1st between 5th and 6th streets from what I found out.  Now it’s time for him to pay.

Him: How much is it baby?
DK’s Brain: WHAT?
Me: $11.10 sir.
Him: Thank you baby. (tries sliding his credit card)
Me: Umm…you gotta hit the credit card option, put in tip, etc.
Him: Anything for you baby.
DK’s Brain: What have I gotten myself into?
Me: You’re doing this all wrong.
(he doesn’t leave me a tip, and he keeps swiping the card all wrong so I had to swipe it for him.  at a distance of course)
Him: You’re straight, right?
Me:  You know it.
Him: That’s unfortunate…you’re very cute.
DK’s Brain: HOW CAN YOU RESPOND TO SOMETHING LIKE THAT??
Me: ……thanks? I guess.

At least he didn’t try fondling me nor trying to caress my face with his foot, much less touch me.  But these fellas are gettin more vulgar by the day…like they’re tryin to recruit or somethin.  And so on.

The Jersey Girl.

The Jersey girl gets a bad rap, according to this chick who got in my cab the other night.

“You know, back then when I said I was from Jersey I was asked what exit off the parkway (Garden State) I was off of and/or what town.  Now I get asked how close to the shore or to Jerseylicious I live at.”

Ouch.  But yeah, Jersey has gotten shitted on these past couple of years because of their TV shows.  Kinda crazy that they’d almost would rather be known as the place where the trash goes then being referred to Snooki’s Tanning Palace.  When asked about the Jersey Shore:

“It’s exactly how it is on the show…soooo trashy.  That club they go to all the time Karma, the trashiest place on Earth.”

So maybe not all stereotypes on TV aren’t overblown, then.  You know, I’ve never been to the Jersey Shore (unless you want to count Brigantine) and when I was a teenager I did wanna see what the hype was about with Seaside Heights.  I’m too old for that shit now though.

“I didn’t ask to be a Jersey girl, I was moved into it.”

Yeah that’s what they all say ha.  Her parents used to live in the city but they moved into the burbs when she was around 8 so now she’s a Jersey girl.  Womp womp.  But listen, I have a love-hate relationship with Jersey.  At my old job, I used to go to Jersey often and the people are friendly.  The chicks look on point and almost all of them have soccer legs, which is my weakness.  But man…these motherfuckers CANNOT DRIVE IN THE CITY!  But you already knew that.

And so on.

Come on Irene.

Hurricane Irene wrecked havoc on my work schedule this weekend.  Even Friday night the streets weren’t bustling as much as they typically do and it had an ominous feeling to it.  While people were trying to take the media blitzing in stride, they also felt uneasy because they weren’t so sure whether to believe the hype or not.  Monarch Bloomberg didn’t wanna get shitted on by another mother nature fiasco and have people stuck on the rails/streets…so he completely shut down the MTA this weekend for the first time in history for anything weather-related.  I can’t blame him, even though this got a lot of New Yorkers upset.  This meant that cabbies would have a field day since we were the only method of transportation for those without cars or bikes.

Everything comes with a catch, however.

For one, the streets on Saturday were deserted.  I didn’t even bother going out on the streets that night but based on all the imagery, it appeared people were content in drinking their faces off at home.  Hell, I don’t know anyone who DIDN’T have some alcoholic beverage in hand.  Guess alcohol is now a requirement with any disaster kit.  On top of that, you now had livery/gypsy cabs and limos legally able to pick up street hails to accomodate people.  And then, you had zone pricing which worked in a unique way.  For each person to get in a cab, it was a $10 flat rate, and each additional zone you traveled through, you added $5.  The zones were Manhattan south of 60th street, north of 60th, and the 4 outer boros regardless of distance.  This would be more advantageous for some people than others.  You could technically hail a cab to Coney Island from Penn Station for the same price it would cost to go to Lincoln Center.

The zone pricing would be very advantageous during the weekdays…but since it was really only in effect on the weekend, and Sundays being the slowest day of the week for business it certainly wasn’t as solid as I anticipated.  With the airports closed, you had to drive into the city and the winds were whippin out there.  It felt worse Sunday than it did on Saturday and there were moments that I was a bit concerned about random objects possibly hitting me.  The tourists were out, but you know them…they love walkin around.  I wound up working from 4-6pm and picked up a mere three passengers:
1) Muberry & Kenmare to Kent & North 4th in BK- $15 each person= $30 (with $6 tip).
2) Church & Chambers to 9th ave & 30th street- $10 (with $2 tip).
3) 58th street btw Broadway & 7th ave to Battery Park City- $10 each person= $20 (with $5 tip).

Not a bad haul, but there were a ton of cabs trying to take advantage…but not enough people to take advantage of.  And then on top of that, my coolant light began flashing.  Really turned out that I had no coolant in the car…but I heeded that as a signal to call it a day anyway.  Since there still was a Tropical Storm Warning in effect while I was out there…I guess you can say I rode out my first ever storm.  And so on.

Brainfreeze.

Friday nights typically wear me out because that’s my “all hands on deck” day.  Saturday nights don’t get intense until around 10pm anyhow so I tend to start later.  This also means that you’ll have passengers who do much dumber things.  You bear with them and in most cases they don’t really have anything to apologize about.  As long as they catch it on time.  Like this chick.

I just dropped off these people over in Chelsea…where a chick rockin a blazer as bright pink as her lipstick was waiting for a cab.  Pleading that I was free, I nod yes and she clasps her hands like I’m a black Jesus statue.  In a rare 330am moment, she did NOT smell of alcohol at all and in fact still smelled like strawberries.  Who needs car freshener?  We’re headin to 74th and 1st and I’m gonna gun it down 8th avenue before cutting over at 59th street.  We make some small talk about how she can’t wait to go home & that she’s over going out on weekends.  I concur with that- they just don’t feel the same anymore…same old stumblin and bumblin shit.  Around 23rd street, she realizes that she cannot find the card she was gonna pay me with.

Her: oh my god oh my god oh my GOD!!
Me: What happened?
Her: Where is my card?? Don’t tell me I left it at the hotel bar?! Aghhhh FUCK stop the cab stop the cab!
DK’s Brain: Here we go.
Her (frantically searching): I don’t want you to think that I’m taking you for a ride, that is NOT the type of person I am at all.  I would never do that.  That’s why I’m looking for my card right now.
Me: I would hope not.  At least you’re making an honest effort.
DK’s Brain: Watch her be playin games man.
Her: I don’t want you to think that I want a free ride.  Man, and I was just talking about how cool you are and now you probably hate me…
Me: Umm…no why would I hate you?
DK’s Brain: $$$$
Her: FUCK!! HOW CAN I BE SOO STUPID-DAH??  We have to go back and get it I’m soooo sorry right now.
Me: I believe you, relax.
DK’s Brain: Yeah yo relax.
Her: Do you know where the Dream Hotel is by any chance?
Me: Nope.  (looks it up on my phone).  Nevermind yeah I do now.  Let’s do this shit.
Her: You better know because I don’t want YOU taking me for a ride getting lost.
Me: Don’t worry you’re good.
(In actuality I made one wrong turn because I thought it was between 9th and 10th avenues but it is between 8th and 9th avenue but no big deal).
Her: Okay, okay, okay…I’m gonna get out, do NOT leave me.  Besides, I really like you as my driver.
Me: I can’t just stay in front of the spot though, so I’m gonna pull off to the side.  I’ll wave at you when you get out.  The meter will still be running so don’t worry about anyone getting in.
DK’s Brain: DO NOT BLOW THIS.  She would probably blow you, though.
(She does the cheek-kiss thing.  I’ve never had a passenger kiss me before in any fashion).

As she gets out, this couple tries to get in even though I have my off-duty lights on.  The guy tries to front that the card is gone and there’s no way she’s gonna get it back.  One of the worst lies I’ve ever heard ha.  Sara (her name) isn’t that dumb nor was she even drunk so that wasn’t happening and I pull over to a hydrant and wait a few minutes.  Several people ask me if I’m free, which I’m clearly not but hey, like I said a while back, I’m one of the only cars in which I can actually post up outside a spot and actually have chicks come up to me wantin a ride.  Fuck your Maybach.

After waiting a few minutes, she emerges and initially she can’t find me.  I yell her name out and she finds me.  Flustered yet relieved, she gets in and we are off to the races.  I have my homegirl whom I’m supposed to take to the airport around 4ish so I’m in a bit of a rush…but this scenario actually helped me out in terms of killing time.  Besides, the meter was running the whole time.  Sara continues apologizing in which she has absolutely no reason to.  She promises a big tip and all that stuff.  We end up having a conversation, yet it was nothing special so I won’t post it on here.  I did find it funny though that she asked the EXACT SAME QUESTIONS in the EXACT SAME ORDER twice in a row ha (before coming back to the hotel and now heading home).  “Where do you live?” “I worked in Park Slope as a teacher for 4 years.” and there was something else I forget.

After the run-around and dropping her off at 74th and 2nd because she wants to get pizza, she pays.  $21.80 total.  $11 tip.  It pays to be patient sometimes.  And so on.