Archive for September, 2012


Beg to DK. BEG!

Driving a cab, you are obvious prey.  These beggars know that you have money in your hand and they will make a concerted effort to try and coerce you to give them some of it.  It’s to the point where even though a piece of me feels bad, another piece knows that this can also be for show.  Hard to tell who is faking the funk these days versus the authentic ones.

The typical beggars aren’t too bad, I’ll just roll up my window and act hella oblivious.  The squeegee men though are a bit more aggressive, you gotta wave them off real quick or they’ll start working right away.  A few months ago I was driving down Nostrand Avenue and at a red light when suddenly I see a dude walk up to my car.  Then he starts wiping down my window and I tell him to stop, but he ain’t listening.  You’re in no-mans land now and you’re gonna feel like an ass if you don’t give them something…so begrugedly  I gave him a dollar.  But this one takes the cake:

Ending my shift, I’m at a Mobil station near my house and about to fill up my tank for the night.  I typically use my debit card to purchase gas, but for whatever reason it was telling me to see the attendant.  The attendant wasn’t there and I see some dude walking up with a bag (presumably on lunch break) so I’m thinking maybe it’s him?  Nope not at all.

Him: Are you Muslim?
Me: Um…nah why?
Him: You African?
Me: No.
Him: *shakes hand* how are you brother?
Me: Well…I’m good, do you work here or no?
Him: No, but is that your car right there (points to my cab)
Me: Yeah it is.
Him: I need a ride to Jersey…I need to get there because I am having surgery tomorrow
Me: Nah that’s not happening at all.
DK’s Brain: Are you outta your frickin mind bruh?  
Him: I only have sixty-three dollars.
(honestly that’s what I THINK he said but lord knows, no way I was taking any random fuck anywhere anyway…much less to Jersey and not for $63)
Him: I’m getting surgery on my pancreas tomorrow please brother can you help me?  I don’t know where I am and I need to get to Jersey.
Me: Umm.
DK’s Brain: Then how on Earth did you find this gas station and then actually find something to drink (presumably).  Plus, if you got surgery tomorrow, I wouldn’t be walking around like an imbecile.
Him: I’m from Nigeria.
DK’s Brain: No you ain’t “bruddah” you got the ill Indian accent AND that’s a cool story bro.
Him: Please brother I need about $8 to get to Jersey help me please, please. (sad puffy face)
(I am feeling bad at this point and he’s being uber-aggressive, pissing me the fuck off)

I pull out what I presume is a $1 bill and I’m about to hand it to him, but it actually is a $5 and in my head I go “noooo way am I giving this dude that much money”.  Now mind you, it’s one thing to beg for money but then to target a specific person and them try to use some type of race card thinking it’ll automatically give you pity…nothing agitates me more.  I don’t know you, B.  Plus, your whole “pancreas surgery” thing sounds like a bunch of BS.  How on earth are you standing, much less walking around?  I pull back and he looks upset and I literally tell him “nah that’s too much”.  So I give him a $1.  He reluctantly takes it and goes “please, brotha please help?”  I tell him that this is all I will do and best of luck to you.  He says nothing and walks off somewhere.  Who knows?  Literally just disappeared from my view.

Welcome to…the Twilight Zone.  And so on.


DK’s Rare Geography Fail.

As the self-proclaimed “Best Cab Driver in the World”, I take pride in knowing that I am getting someone to their destination as quickly & efficiently as possible.  But man…I tried to outsmart my GPS on this one and that is never a good idea.

Last night was a fairly slow night (particularly for a Friday) so I spent a majority of the time at JFK.  I picked up an Asian girl at Terminal 4 and she asked me if I had GPS to take her to her location out in Rego Park.  I did, so I typed the address onto my iPhone (like I always do these days when I’m not 100% sure where I’m going) and took off.  I trust my iPhone GPS as much if not more than my regular Garmin one but there are times in which I feel like the GPS takes a longer route…so thinking I knew my way better, I got out an exit early.

NOT A GOOD MOVE DK.  I ended up going north of my destination as opposed to south so there goes U-Turn #1.  I wasn’t far at all from where I had to go, but why I did that was beyond me.  My GPS told me to get out at Woodhaven Blvd but I got out at Queens Blvd because she did say she was behind Queens Center Mall.  She actually wasn’t though but I thought getting off at Queens Blvd would get me closer.  FOR WHATEVER REASON.  Maybe I spent a few seconds too long smelling fumes that fucked with my head, I dunno.

I rectify the situation though and I’m on Woodhaven.  It tells me to not stay there too long and to make a U-Turn at Eliot Avenue.  Alright cool, make the U-Turn, make a quick right and then you’re basically there.  What does DK do?  Makes the U-Turn and misses the avenue that he was supposed to turn on.  Now to be fair, my GPS told me I was supposed to make the U-Turn sooner…but you can’t make it from there.  Hence the confusion.  But damn it, as a former Geography Bee champion I should be able to read a map!

“U missed de avenue”

Lemme make this U-Turn and get back to making that U-Turn.  Makes sense?  No?  Yeah that’s what I thought.  It’s bad enough when you get lost somewhere but it’s even more embarrassing when you’re lost but you know how close you are to where you’re actually supposed to be.  I think what had me even more flustered though was that I KNEW I wasn’t lost, but in fact driving incompetent in my own borough.  Not in Las Vegas or in Dallas or in Shanghai…but in QUEENS!  DAMN IT DK GET IT TOGETHER!

Alright, so in take 2 in fear of fucking up again, I actually make a left instead of a U-Turn.  FAIL AGAIN!  Now I have to go around to 63rd road, make a left, make another left 2 lights later, make a right and then another right.  WHAT IN GOD’S NAME AM I DOING?  Man, if this chick had any sense of direction I would’ve been chewed and spat out.  She didn’t really though.  I still feel bad but it’s primarily because if I just knew my role, I would’ve dropped her off already and been on my way back to JFK.  Now I’m just wasting time doing my faux Carmen SanDiego bullshit.  After my forearms worked themselves out more than they should have (turning the wheel you potential sickos), I got to the house.  She tipped me $3.33.  I honestly deserved $0.00 ha.  My personal pride took a hit.

The Struggle Part 2: My next fare finally took me into the city…and this chick gave me $52.
Her- The fare’s $45 right?
Me- Yep.  I had to take a toll though (because she was staying at 45th street btw 5th and 6th.  Took the Midtown Tunnel).
Her- Oh…well I was gonna give you a $7 tip but this is all I have cash-wise.
Me- I see.  Okay then.
DK’s Brain (mocking voice)- Oh…well I was gonna be cheap but at least now I can be cheaper HOLLA!
Her- Well thank you.
Me- (looks more defeated than in a best abs competition).

And so on.