They like to get tricky with tourists by taking the long way to wrack up a higher tab. With locals, they bump it up a notch by saying their credit card machine doesn't work so they don't have to pay the user fee. Granted sometimes it doesn't work, but you'll know for sure when you say "Sorry I only have my card, guess the ride's on you" and that little machine suddenly works again!
The first thing I was warned about when I announced I was moving here wasn't the neighborhoods to steer clear of or the smells that accost you 24/7; it was the cabbies. I was told, "Get in, buckle up, and be prepared for the ride of your life!"
Since I had never been to New York, and didn't know a soul here prior to jumping on a plane and moving across the country, I wanted to be sure I didn't miss a thing on my ride in. I didn't want the City to pass in a blur of color and height, I wanted to see it and let it sink in. So I treated myself to a Car Service for about $20 more and rode into my new life in style. By style, I mean the front seat. That was short lived and I soon learned how to hold out my hand like everyone else.
After that, every time I got in a cab I'd check the locks before shutting the door in case they had been shaved down to steel points like in the movie Se7en.
However, as years and countless cab rides passed, I learned things I wasn't warned about. The good things. Like traffic suggestions if I've requested a route that would make them more money but cost me more time. Or the often lingering conversations about religion, politics, hot dogs, and game scores. I love catching a late night movie alone and then reviewing it with a stranger between lane changes. Three different times I've had cabbies stop the meter a good ten blocks away from my destination and say, "This part's on me." Who does that??!! No "And can I have your number" or "If you give me a little somethin' in return". No creepy eyes, no sceevy lines, just simple generosity in a City that is often rebuked for it's hardened exterior and cab-crazed interior. I've got to admit, in the process of becoming a New Yorker I've become quite fond of the men who zip me around in dented yellow boxes on wheels. Even if I do still check the locks.
Interestingly, instead of joining the "I hate New York Cab Drivers" crew, I've joined the "I hate Car Services" band wagon. The ones that aren't called in advance, that is. Particularly the ones at airports who harass you, pitch to you, and follow you to the Taxi line until you agree to go with them so they'll shut up! I've reviewed last words to loved ones, possible escape routes, best body positions for a crash, and the state I left my bedroom in many a time in the back of black Caddy's. Going over 100mph in moving traffic, blaring music, and eager eyes staring at me with eyebrows that should come back down and pay attention to the road do not impress me. I never take ones that cruise the City trying to steal fares either. Hail me a Taxi, call me a Cab, you couldn't "same price" sell me enough to get me to take a Car Service off the street.
The other night, my conviction and appreciation for cab drivers was signed, sealed, and delivered.
I've proudly never left anything behind in a cab in the four years and four months of residing here. I'm really concious about what I have with me and always make sure to check the seats & floor before I shut the door. I'm annoyingly over-responsible, but it's worked out so far! I got home from traveling for work for two weeks and, in a pre-called, well reputed car service from work, went straight to my best friend's house. I spent hours eating, laughing, playing guitar hero, and relaxing. Then, I caught a cab home. It was midnight by the time I rolled up in front of my house. I graciously tipped him, hopped out, checked the seats/floor and went inside. My toe barely landed on the first step of my third floor walk up when I realized I was significantly lacking in luggage. And my laptop. Both were in the trunk of the cab I had just sent on its way!
Simultaneous thoughts of panic and rational rushed through my head.
"How fast can I run?" "Would he go straight or turn down Columbus?" "At least my name & number are on the suitcase!" "Will he call?!" "Who do I call?!" "My LAPTOP!!!!"
And as I flew out of my building's front door, there was the cab. With the cab driver calmly standing beside the trunk, a wry smile playing across his face. UNBELIEVABLE.
"I'm sorry!" I said, laughing my heart back to an acceptable beat.
"I forgot! Can you tell its been a long day?!"
He smiled and said, "Yes. That's ok."
He unloaded my suitcase, laptop, and wished me "Goodnight".
I wished him many cab fares, extra tips, and a leg up on street Caddy's and Airport Airheads (because even I can't deny that pre-arranged cars are really nice and convenient).
I pledge allegiance to the Cabs,
Traveling in united fleets all over New York City.
And to the warnings, for which people say,
They're not all bad, it's individual.
There are good deeds and high speeds for all.
After that, every time I got in a cab I'd check the locks before shutting the door in case they had been shaved down to steel points like in the movie Se7en.
However, as years and countless cab rides passed, I learned things I wasn't warned about. The good things. Like traffic suggestions if I've requested a route that would make them more money but cost me more time. Or the often lingering conversations about religion, politics, hot dogs, and game scores. I love catching a late night movie alone and then reviewing it with a stranger between lane changes. Three different times I've had cabbies stop the meter a good ten blocks away from my destination and say, "This part's on me." Who does that??!! No "And can I have your number" or "If you give me a little somethin' in return". No creepy eyes, no sceevy lines, just simple generosity in a City that is often rebuked for it's hardened exterior and cab-crazed interior. I've got to admit, in the process of becoming a New Yorker I've become quite fond of the men who zip me around in dented yellow boxes on wheels. Even if I do still check the locks.
Interestingly, instead of joining the "I hate New York Cab Drivers" crew, I've joined the "I hate Car Services" band wagon. The ones that aren't called in advance, that is. Particularly the ones at airports who harass you, pitch to you, and follow you to the Taxi line until you agree to go with them so they'll shut up! I've reviewed last words to loved ones, possible escape routes, best body positions for a crash, and the state I left my bedroom in many a time in the back of black Caddy's. Going over 100mph in moving traffic, blaring music, and eager eyes staring at me with eyebrows that should come back down and pay attention to the road do not impress me. I never take ones that cruise the City trying to steal fares either. Hail me a Taxi, call me a Cab, you couldn't "same price" sell me enough to get me to take a Car Service off the street.
The other night, my conviction and appreciation for cab drivers was signed, sealed, and delivered.
I've proudly never left anything behind in a cab in the four years and four months of residing here. I'm really concious about what I have with me and always make sure to check the seats & floor before I shut the door. I'm annoyingly over-responsible, but it's worked out so far! I got home from traveling for work for two weeks and, in a pre-called, well reputed car service from work, went straight to my best friend's house. I spent hours eating, laughing, playing guitar hero, and relaxing. Then, I caught a cab home. It was midnight by the time I rolled up in front of my house. I graciously tipped him, hopped out, checked the seats/floor and went inside. My toe barely landed on the first step of my third floor walk up when I realized I was significantly lacking in luggage. And my laptop. Both were in the trunk of the cab I had just sent on its way!
Simultaneous thoughts of panic and rational rushed through my head.
"How fast can I run?" "Would he go straight or turn down Columbus?" "At least my name & number are on the suitcase!" "Will he call?!" "Who do I call?!" "My LAPTOP!!!!"
And as I flew out of my building's front door, there was the cab. With the cab driver calmly standing beside the trunk, a wry smile playing across his face. UNBELIEVABLE.
"I'm sorry!" I said, laughing my heart back to an acceptable beat.
"I forgot! Can you tell its been a long day?!"
He smiled and said, "Yes. That's ok."
He unloaded my suitcase, laptop, and wished me "Goodnight".
I wished him many cab fares, extra tips, and a leg up on street Caddy's and Airport Airheads (because even I can't deny that pre-arranged cars are really nice and convenient).
I pledge allegiance to the Cabs,
Traveling in united fleets all over New York City.
And to the warnings, for which people say,
They're not all bad, it's individual.
There are good deeds and high speeds for all.
2 comments:
aaahhhh that would have been miserable if that night ended with a laptop missing :( I AM SO GLAD you didnt loose it. love you mama.
Yes! Just as Borg is now stalking my blog, I can now stalk yours :) You are a wonderful writer by the way, I really enjoyed your cabbie post!
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