29
Jan
11

DK’s NYC Taxi Cab Chronicles (from 1/28/11).

After a seven week hiatus taking care of all this medallion transferring nonsense, I finally get back on the road and without having to wait at all in the JFK Central Taxi Hold I get sent to Terminal 2.  Ironic since my first ever trip was to pick up someone at Terminal 2.  I pick up some dude with a suit in hand and a gym bag whom I’m supposed to take Midtown and he begins shootin the breeze with me about basketball.  I come to find out he’s a Suns fan and he’s disappointed that his squad always gets dudes past their primes (Shaq, Vince Carter)…yet Grant Hill is his favorite player since he’s ageless.  I also find out he goes to school at BYU (which I found hilarious) so he’s tellin me about Jimmer Fredette, Max Hall (who he grew up with) and some other guys.  People at BYU have to do these two-year missions and he already did his in Mexico.  So even though he’s a junior, he’s 24 and married- just like a good chunk of the soberest school in the nation is.  I could never do the whole Mormon/Utah thing that state scares me thinkin about how I’d feel like Karl Malone up in that bitch.

These three ladies were waiting for the guy to get out and had dibs on my cab…but out of nowhere this other dude gets in and tells me to take him towards the Financial District.  I’m thinkin to myself what the fuck…but as I’ve said before, first come first serve who cares.  He tells me how hard it is to find a cab (usually is at 8pm on a Friday night) and wonders if I can get from Midtown to his apartment in 20 minutes.  I really didn’t think I could but traffic wasn’t as bad as I thought.  He gives me my factoid of the day which is NYC has gotten more snow this year than Anchorage, Alaska.  The more you know right?  He’s originally a Syracuse dude and was up there earlier when it was -15.  How does one live their life like that?  I know people in Minnesota who go into the pools at 9am when it’s 52 degrees outside.  I’m scratchin my neck like a crack fiend.

I pick up some chick who wants to get to 1st avenue and 7th street from basically Broadway and Canal.  Ugh, traffic.  After being stuck in traffic for about 5-10 minutes she begins bitchin about why are we still in SoHo.  Man look…it’s a Friday night around 9pm what the fuck else do you expect?  You gotta hot date with your wine bottle or somethin that you’re late for?  Askin me why am I not headin uptown; I was tryin to get as far east as I could.  But oh well, take your $1 tip and shove it up your ass.

I’m killin it on these streets.  I’m drivin down Grand Street in Chinatown about a couple of blocks away from droppin these two people off.  They’re babblin about their relationship issues; the girl gives that classic schlep about “I’m happy that I have a boyfriend but I wish I was free and single.”  Um…yeah.  The dude was talkin about seeing some guy.  Yeah that’s gonna get tuned out.  Around Allen Street I’m drivin down it and I do notice that the road was a bit uneven so I tried to get around it.  BOOM!  I took a mean shot to my front driver’s side tire.  I just had a bad feeling my tire was gonna be fucked up but I didn’t notice anything wrong at first.  I drop them off and head up Essex (Avenue A).  Suddenly though, I begin to notice the car is driving a bit weird.  Fuuuuuuck, not on my first night back and at 1030pm too.  I pick up these three chicks that were heading to Cooper Square but my car is only driving worse now.  They’re listenin to trash ass Z100 and a couple of people point out that my tire is flat.  Great.  The chicks don’t feel comfortable with me drivin them with a flat (as they should) so I chuck the deuce as they hop out.

I find somewhere to park the cab.  Man…I somewhat have an idea on how to fix a flat tire but because I wasn’t 100% sure on how to do it the absolute proper way, I had to call for a tow truck.  I’m thinkin that this shouldn’t be too bad; I should be back on the road around 12 or 1230, whatever.  I’m waitin FOR THREE HOURS for this damn truck to show up.  Apparently what happened was since Volkswagen cars have an aluminum bottom now as opposed to a metal bottom, the only tow trucks that can take my car are flatbeds…therefore they had to call a tow truck company from frickin Jersey to head down to the ABC and get me.  I’m beside myself because I was well on my way to ballin out and instead I just lost a critical chunk of time to this mess.  I curse myself for not knowin how to fix a flat because it woulda saved me hella time and money…but the one thing that was against me even being able to do that was…I’m on Avenue A and it’s definitely not the safest place to try and fix a tire with hella people and cars around.  Plus the spot where I was was hella slushy and I didn’t have a cardboard to keep my pants dry.  I don’t get back on the road until what, 230am?

I pick up three more people; includin this kid on crutches who took me back to Queens and I simply cursed my luck and finished for the night.  Welcome back me huh?  I’m takin today off, which I’m not sure is a wise move but whatever…but I feel like hey I’m my own boss so I’m gonna ease back into this shit.  I’ll be back at it on Sunday night.  And so on.

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