Archive for May, 2012

25
May
12

No Chill.

I know, it’s been a while  since I’ve last graced my presence on here.  Lately, my shifts have been mostly uneventful.  I will catch you up on my situation with my new cab in future posts, though.

We all hate traffic.  I get it.  But, if you’re going from JFK to Forest Hills and I have to take the Van Wyck at 7pm…do you really think I’m NOT gonna get caught up in traffic?  If you think I’m just gonna fly up that highway, then I got Lawrence Taylor’s Super Bowl ring to sell you.  I pick up this Indian dude and you can hear him sighing in the back wondering why there’s so much traffic.  “Was there an accident?”  No.  It’s simply this way from Rockaway Blvd until Main Street (a good 3 miles of moving at 10mph or so).  Now, I’m not gonna front, I wound up getting stuck at the same left turn light for at least 5 minutes because people we sleeping behind the wheel (I had to make a U-Turn to get to where the guy was going) but I can’t control that.  “You should turn from the local way and then make your U-Turn.  On Queens Blvd, I’m gonna do that?  First, no.  Secondly, it’s illegal.  Thirdly, no.  Otherwise do you really think I would be at that light?  With that being said, the fare was $24.80 and the rain started coming down heavily.  I help him get his luggage out of the car, he gives me two 20s and tells me to give him 15 back.  NAH son.  I give him his money and turn my back to him immediately.  Ungrateful piece of shit, acting like it was gonna be a smooth magic carpet ride to your damn apartment.  The Genie and Aladdin were NOT walking through that door.

I chilled though.  This French dude I pick up next must have coughed a good 55-60 times during the 40 minute trip from JFK to the *cough cough* city *cough cough cough* when *cough* I was once *cough cough* again stuck in *cough cough cough cough* Van Wyck traffic.  (In actuality the coughs weren’t too bad but they made for decent sound effects whilst listening to the radio).

I picked up another dude around 38th and 2nd avenue and he told me whilst we were discussing cab drivers that I sound “very…white.”  Were you expecting me to sound ratchet or have some kind of international accent?  I see what you did there.  It’s okay for me to sound like I can articulate to my customers in a language/voice they can understand.

The same way that bars have minimums for when you use a credit card, they should establish that for people paying with credit card.  It’s criminal to be allowed on a $4.70 fare to be able to use CC.  The minimum (after tip) should be at least $8 due to the 5% the CCs take.
(Sidenote- the NY Taxi Workers Alliance (NYTWA) is trying to lobby to get rid of that 5% amongst other things.  Here’s why.  I’m gonna use a $9.90 fare as the example:
-If paid in cash and the passenger gives you $11, you come out with $10.50 (the other 50 cents remember is collected for the MTA quarterly tax)
-If paid in card and the tip is $2, the fare is $11.90 but  you come out with $10.83.  if they tip $1 then it’ll be $10.90 but you only come out with $9.88
-If paid in card and the customer tips you the $2 in cash, the fare is $11.90 but you come out with $10.93…or 10 cents more than if the tip was on the card.  The 10 cents doesn’t sound like a big deal but for some drivers, every penny counts)

You ever had a chick who felt like she was a know-it-all AND was arrogant…yet the reality of the situation was she had NO idea what she was talking about?  That happened when I picked her and a friend of hers up around 7th and 47th…which may be the worst corner in the city to try and pick someone up.  She wanted to go to Tao on 58th between Madison and Park and there were points where if I were Chris Brown I would have punched her in the face.
“We need to get to the East Side babe.  Where are we?  Between 5th and Broadway?  We gotta go the other way babe.”
I’m well aware of this.  We’re on the West Side, but I can’t make lefts on 46th or 44th street so I have to do so on 42nd. Relax.
“Do you need me to google map this for you or you know where you’re going?  I’m from New York City.”
Cool story babe, guess who also lives here?  MEEEEEE.  Let’s make a toast.  And yes, I know where I’m going and you don’t have to google map shit.  She’d later mention to her friend that she’s been living here for 12 years.  Yawn.  I’m falling asleep as I’m typin….g…this…
“What avenue are we going up?  6th?  Ugh I hate 6th avenue, not my scene babe.  Go up Park it’s better and more my scene.”
My head actually began hurting here.  Firstly, I’m 6 blocks away from 58th street and making the right.  Secondly, what scene are you talking about?  Park Avenue is nothing but a bunch of ritzy apartment buildings and stuffy corporate buildings.   Plus, if I take Park up I actually would be passing your club so if anything, I have to take the even duller Madison Avenue up.  Oh, did I mention the lights on Park aren’t even synchronized?  For a 12 year veteran who wanted to google map a club for me, you sound worse than a tourist.
Yet when it was all said and done, her friend paid and that same lady flipped the switch…and was…nice.  Thanking me and everything.  Meds and alcohol do NOT mix.

As much as you may be tempted to report a cab driver for passing you…if you appear intoxicated, the cab driver is permitted to not pick you up.  It’s in the TLC rulebook.  Why risk having some fuck puke in your cab or become highly disoriented?  But anyhow, I picked up this dude on the corner of 1st and 28th.  I didn’t really understand what he was trying to say and he wanted to go to the Grand Hyatt.  He looked like he had some saliva on his face and yes he was wasted.  Reluctantly because the place wasn’t all THAT far, I picked him up.  Watching him from the mirror, he was drifting in and out of sleep, mouth agape and all that.  I roll down both back windows as a precaution and alert him that we are close by.  “Yeah huhhuhyeah yeah” he replies.  Aight bet, just making sure.  Granted, I’ve had a strange day to this point so I wasn’t in the best of moods.  I drop him off in front of the hotel.  We are here.  “Yeah…k..” he replies.  Honestly, I felt like he was gonna be a difficult one to handle to I had to crank up the dickhead mode.  He starts mentioning that he’s hungry…dude where the fuck are you?  The fare is $6 and he only hands me a $5.
“What did I give you?”
Me: $5…but frankly you just need to get out now.  You have no clue where you are, just get out.
“You know what?  You’re a fucking cunt.  Yaaa a cunt, I get in your cab and….(I don’t even know what he says afterwards a bunch of mumbo jumbo)”
Me: Bitch ass faggot (after he slams the door).

Listen you British fairy, I didn’t have to pick you up in the first place.  I did YOU the favor.  I even let you slide and pay a dollar less than what it was and I’m the cunt?  Nah.  Go suck on Queen Elizabeth’s.  All. Night. Long.

 

Then I had to tell myself to chill and remember that I am the sober one.

And so on.

Advertisements