Friday Night Lights.

I understand the confusion some people have with the pronunciation of Houston Street.  It’s “HOW-ston” rather than “HUE-Ston”.  However, to the blonde chick asking her boyfriend what the difference between the two of them are…think about if a “to-MAY-to” is different from a “to-MAA-to” and then holla back at me.

Intelligent conversations do occur in my cab and I had one with a fellow African-American whom I took to 123rd and Lenox from midtown.  It all began when he asked me what I meant by my sign and I explained it to him, then he told me that he believes we actually did kill him (which I don’t).  But we focused on other topics; namely how the media shapes our thinking since we’re so used to getting our news from one source- thinking it’s the ultimate source for information.  We also discussed how we try so hard to fit in, but in a material/capitalistic way as opposed to Japan how they’re culturally/morally brought up to fit in.  He was 100% on point when he mentioned our complacency noting the last time especially African-Americans stood up for something and actually rioted was during the Rodney King days.  Now it’s been reduced (overall as people) to blogging and online petitions…but no one going out on the streets and doing anything (unlike what they did in Egypt, Syria, etc).

These three dudes I picked up at Delancey Street heading to 49 Grove (which looked all poppin with the red carpet and just the bouncer standing there lookin hella bored) wanted a shoutout on here and I’ll give it to yall.  One of them has a blog you can check out here.  Hopefully yall had luck goin there on a non-gay night (as yall feared it was gonna be a gay night).  It wasn’t too long of a ride, but one of them told me a story about how a cab driver had a portable TV and was trying to watch a Giants’ playoff game while droppin the kid back off.  He was high as well ha.  Don’t worry guys, I’ll keep my sobriety to a maximum on my shifts.

I pick up these three kids on 6th and 52nd near the infamous Chicken and Rice.  One has to assume they just had some from the Holy Grail of Halal.  I noticed two of them had Greek letters on and I didn’t wanna jump to conclusions really quickly but I had a feeling they were in my fraternity (TKE- Tau Kappa Epsilon).  So I let it rock as I took them to South Ferry and bumpin Shade 45.  Normally I’d hop on the FDR but since it was 230 in the morning you just slingshot down 5th avenue to Park Avenue South which turns into Broadway.  After hearin them talk about the potential they had of dominating bitches at the spot they were at, I drop them off and as they go to pay, I ask them what fraternity they were in.  When I tell them I’m a brother too and prove it, they lose it.  Honestly, if I were a passenger I woulda been stunned also.  They’re brothers at College of Staten Island; I’m one from NYU and they just ask me a couple quick questions.  “TKE RULES THE WORLD!” one of them says.  Yes sir.  But learn how to tip tho.

I’m always skeptical of taking passengers to the Bronx.  I detest going up there.  Almost every cab driver does.  I’ve likely explained this before a long time ago.  This dude asks if I can take him up to 204th and Grand Concourse from 91st and Columbus.  I cringe for a minute but then realize it’s 4am anyhow and that area of the BX isn’t too bad so I let him rock.  All it took was 20 minutes to get there; which was pretty surprising but not really.  The surprising thing?  His 20% tip.  The Bronx is usually the worst tipping borough, but my last two fares up there have been on point.

Word.  And so on.


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