ETERNAL RUMSPRINGA OF THE MUNICIPAL ARRONDISSEMENTS

Dos (2) mapas de dos (2) turnos de dia (day shifts) from this past autumn. 24 hours of slapdash circumstance, split into 2 neutrally bouyant pools of slippery time. All the while building vocabulary, butchering jokes, and discombobulating molecules. It's the life of a happy-go-lucky (but not johnny-come-lately) trilingual taxicab aviator. Without a single traffic light it would feel more like a mid-air flight. The Hebrew letters were stenciled in (courtesy of my art journaling aunt's nifty utensil) on a recent visit to L.A.. Now I just have to find stencils for all the other written tongues I love, but know not yet how to read: Mandarin, Arabic, Hindi, Tibetan, etc.. Early mornings, between fares, the dial is often set to 89.9 FM (non-commercial and student-run), for the soothing ragas and galvanizing reggaes. Robust, complacent, and bionic all at once.

Bedpan Alley on York Avenue: the most boreal fare departure on the green shift (see map color). Bedpan as in how bedridden patients go potty. Alley as in a cluster of medical institutions. Boreal as in closest to the arctic. The corner that Ansche Chesed is on took that title on the red shift, while Lehmen Center for the Performing Arts in Bedford Park (Bronx) made the cut for septentrion terminus, and all the way from Sunnyside (Queens) of all places. The green shift's answer to that was the intersection that is home to Kieselstein-Cord and L'Ocitanne on the Upper East.

Yana, a friend from Moscow, was my guest of honor during the first eight fares of the green shift. She has always dreamed of driving a taxicab, but felt less so after this first-hand experience. I've never been a passenger of hers, but I know her personality would turn her into a great cabbie.

Many homeless panhandlers have told me that the only motorists who hand them change are cabdrivers. I believe it. We might not be without a roof over our heads, but we're on a frontline in the basic human struggle to survive. We must forge our way ahead, or be left behind just the same, because unlike the lawyers, surgeons, psychiatrists, engineers, managers, etc.... society has yet to assign a sustainable value to our endless efforts, those of us who try (our best.)

I imagine that, like me, most cabbies in NY have their preferred territorial turf to hunt for fares. Of course, you have your perpetual hotel and taxi stand loungers. And many of us wander aimlessly up and down the avenues without giving much thought to strategy or any sense of hyperlocal inclination. Union Square is the nucleus of my cruising grounds. Anything below 29th Street is Kosher in my kitchen. Anything above it and I feel like a fish out of water. Unless a passenger requests to be driven up there, I don't bother with Midtown, or Uptown for that matter. I'd rather go to Brooklyn.

I'm a downtown cabbie. I like my Villages, my Chelsea, and my Chinatown. Long live Alphabet City, the LES, and the FiDi. You can catch me in TriBeCa, NoMad, NoHo, NoCa, and the Civic Center. Less stress, less traffic congestion, less pretentiousness, less police harassment, and less of the dull, mainstream tourists. More locals and visitors alike who can actually think outside the box and/or appreciate history, art, music, diversity, honorable character, and quality cabdrivers. I know it's not as cut and dry as I'm making it sound. You have assholes, dimwits, snobs, and lame cops everywhere. But I know which communities I can serve with a stronger sense of eagerness and belonging.

Lastly, let's step out of our little bubble for a minute and take a look two things that I'm not very happy about :

#1. Israel ruining what's left of its diplomatic ties with Turkey and the world by being a naval bully.

#2. Guatemala being devastated by two 'natural' disasters in two days.

The Original is Still the Best

Photo Credit: Richard Perry/The New York Times

Don't be fooled by all the new imitations popping up everywhere.

There's only one place to go for authentic NYC street pizza.

Take it from a cabbie: 41st and Ninth, on the northwest corner.

I have no ties to this establishment.

This is coming from my gut (and taste buds).

An all-Bangladeshi crew behind the counter.....

.....works with tireless finesse and smiles.

If you happen to jump in my cab I'll gladly make it a pit stop for you, just ask!

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/16/nyregion/16pizza.html

Might As Well Be.....

.....a chain of islands. This map makes the West Bank look almost likethe Philippines. It's the current, most fragmentized version of a Palestinian state yet.... and it's reality, except that if the blue parts of the map were actually water, its citizens could fish. Instead, the blue is the whole of present Israel, including both Israel itself and colonized swaths of the occupied territory. Instead of coastline, there are massive walls. Instead of seafood, there are plots of fertile farmland that people can't reach and tend to, and sustain themselves with. Hey, don't blame me! I voted for the one-state solution. One world rather, to be shared by all people. Information about the origin of this imagined map can be found on a neat cartographic blog that I just discovered, which I found through yet another neat cartographic blog.

Map Credit #1: Julien Boussac/ Atlas Du Monde Diplomatique. Map Source #2: Afroasiatic German/ Wikipedia

real life cartogram radio robot dance

Photo Credit: Marilynn K. Yee/ The New York Times

Ever since I was little my geographic imagination and infatuation with ultra urban landscapes has been off the wall. Whenever the daydreamer in me stares at cracks in the sidewalk, they look to me like tributaries leading to rivers and so on. If the cracks are straight lines they represent streets, especially if there are ants navigating along them in both directions.

Many of us taxi drivers who keep blogs tend to include a blog roll for our network of fellow taxi scribes. These rolls are often set up to display the one that most recently posted an entry, and so on down the line. In essence, we take turns jumping to the front of the pack, just like taxicabs in traffic. Those of us who take a nap on the curb or at the airport end up remaining in the same spot at the back of the line. How analogous.

I'll never forget my dad's story about a waiter who asked him if he wanted soup or salad. He thought they said, "would you like super salad?" When he answered, "yes please!," the waiter got annoyed and asked again. "Soup....or salad?" There were so many other options through the course of the meal that my dad was the one who became annoyed. Sometimes I feel like the waiter, and I assume the passenger feels like my dad.

Do you want that in the trunk?
Do you want to go up Sixth or Eighth?
Do you have a crosstown street that you prefer?
Do you want the left or the right side?
Do you want the near or the far corner?
Are you paying cash or credit?
Do you want the receipt?

THREE FAST NOTEWORTHY FARES OF RECENT:

1) In the Flower District I was hailed by a trio with lots of nursery merchandise, including a mid-sized tree in a large planter that had to fit across the floorboard, over their laps, and out the window. It all worked out just fine.

2) A couple got in with their newborn infant and joked about how they don't want to wake the baby because if he started to cry the cabdriver would kick them out of the taxi. That always-present initial ice broke right then and there. I didn't even have to make an effort. The rest of the ride was sweet and hilarious. It was nice to be reminded that there are people out there who still think of cabdrivers as human-- not a robot you can switch on and off, who emotionlessly listens to the re TV ads behind his head all day (which make it nearly impossible to have symbiotic communication with the passenger). A robot who can't make or receive any phone calls either, obviously because robots don't require any sort of interpersonal interaction. 12 hours of complete isolation a day? No problem!

3) A strung- out filmmaker hopped in on Bedford in Williamsbug. He had a cow in the backseat when he realized he spilled lens cleaner all over his video camera, because the cap came loose inside of his bag. He called up a colleague and the destination changed from somewhere in SoHo to the camera shop on Canal and Walker.

Valerie Smaldone, the graceful radio personality on news talk 710 am, aired an interview she conducted with an awkward, less-than-eloquent cabdriver on May 13th, during her lunchtime program on the hidden little facts of New York. The lucky cabdriver to be featured that day happened to be me. Here's a link to the on-demand podcast. My two minute segment of audial fame can be found toward the end of the show, around 75% of the way through.....

http://67.72.16.166/wor/2382022.mp3

AN EXCITING SHOW COMING UP IN BROOKLYN
MARCHING BANDS AND SKA BANDS ARE SOME OF MY FAVES....
http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=115222455162251

Pictures From Earlier This Month

MOTHERS' DAY PARTY AT OUR APARTMENT IN WILLIAMSBURG.

CLOCKWISE FROM THE BOTTOM RIGHT: Rosita (cabbie's mom), Paul (cabbie's roommate), Gil (the cabbie), Jenine (friend), Emilie (cabbie's surrogate sister), Alan (Emilie's BF), Slava (cabbie's brother-in-non-law), Lizette (cabbie's sister), Jennifer (sister's friend and taxi blog fan), Yoram (cabbie's father), Gui (cabbie's surrogate brother)

AN ABANDONED STOOP ON FOURTH AVE IN BOERUM HILL

I WALK PAST IT ON MY WAY TO THE G TRAIN AFTER EVERY SHIFT

DAMAGE DONE BY RECENT FLOODING IN PROVIDENCE, RI.

THAT'S WHERE JENINE LIVES SO WE TAKE TURNS VISITING EACH OTHER.

VIEW OF THE BROOKLYN CLOCKTOWER FROM BERGEN STREET.

THE WALL AND THE TREE GIVE IT AN ALMOST JERUSALEM FEEL.

BALLOONS TIED TO A GARBAGE TRUCK IN CHELSEA

HENCE: THE UNSEEN SANITATION WORKERS ARE POTENTIAL FRIENDS OF MINE

JENINE: UNA MUJER MUY FINA.

ES JUDIA FILIPINA Y TIENE MUCHO ADRENALINA!

Two Shifts On A Single Map

SHIFT #1..........................................SHIFT #2

Friday 4/30/10................................Saturday 5/1/10

10 Hours= 5:30 to 15:30................ 11 Hours= 4:00 to 15:00

100 Miles for 32 Fares................... 160 Miles for 29 Fares

$150 Net from $313 Gross......... ....$250 Net from $412 Gross

$105 Lease/$33 Gas/$16 MTA Tax........$105 Lease/$42 Gas/$14 MTA Tax

10 unique situations..........................8 unique situations

UNSOLVED ETHNOLOGIES

I enjoy guessing exactly where and what purpose a passenger is off to when they provide a block or intersection as their destination. Call it creepy. I like to think of it as field work anthropology. A pleasant man in a fancy suit hopped in on Park in the 60s. He requested Fifth between 27 and 26th. Are you going to that building with all the chandeliers in the brightly lit lobby? No, I'm going to the not-so-fancy building across the street. Upon research, I found that it is the NY MarketCenter, 20 historic floors with over 200 showrooms for trade shows from a wide range of product categories. I'll leave it at that for now.

ONE'S STRANGE URBAN LANDSCAPE IS ANOTHER'S WORKPLACE

Just before 9 A.M. a Mexican man hurried out of Grand Central Terminal and approached my window very timidly. It's the second time in two weeks I got a fare to the Mexican Consulate with under 10 minutes to make it there on time for a crucial appointment. I think it's important for cabdrivers to know where it's located and the fastest way to get there from any other point in Manhattan, especially from the transportation hubs they are most likely to come out of. I was on Vanderbilt and 43rd. The consulate is on 39th between Park and Madison. Walking distance, but not if you're clueless. I shot down 43rd, hung a left on Fifth, another left on 41st, a right on Park, and a right on 39th. Voila! One minute early. I had thought about dropping him off on Madison, but he might have gotten lost again.

PASSENGERS FROM LIBYA ARE AS RARE AS THOSE FROM CAPE VERDE

Just before 10 A.M. I was hailed on Eighth by a casual Libyan man named Kamar. He just wanted to go across town to Second Avenue. We conversed about the similarities between Judaism and Islam. I loved his North African accent and he loved my openness. I wonder if he knows that Barnes and Noble flies a flag at the entrance to their bookstores that is identical to that of his country: solid green. Later on I picked up a young lady from the above-mentioned islands off the coast of western Africa. I could not, for the life of me, guess her origin.... something I'm often good at. She herself said people ask her if she's Asian, Latino, etc..

FOLLOWING RULES FOR TAXI DOWN TO THE TEE

Minutes later I was on 43rd and Lexington. A woman was hailing on the west side of the street, which is a big no- no for cabbies between 7 and 1 P.M. I motioned her to cross the street over to my side and to my surprise, she complied. I explained about the anti-taxi signs in the bus lane and she completely understood. She agreed it has become much more common to see cabs pulled over by the police. I hope she spreads the word about crossing the street to hail a cab there.

UNDERSTANDING EXPRESSIONS IN ENGLISH

Even though I moved to the U.S. when I was four years old, I never really learned all of the expressions people use in English because my immigrant parents never used them, nor did my mostly immigrant peers growing up in ethnically diverse parts of L.A. and Houston. I've learned so many new expressions in the last three years, simply from hearing them used in the backseat of my taxi. One lady on her cell phone said, "It's water under the bridge." I initially guessed it meant that 'it' was where 'it' should be (whatever 'it' was). I later discovered (on the web) it means something in the past and no longer important.

THE BEST SHAWARMA IS ON THE TONGUE OF THE BEHOLDER

A family trio on their last day visiting from Ramat Gan (suburb of Tel Aviv) claimed that the Shawarma at Bereket (Turkish spot on Houston Street) is even better than the heavenly stuff on the street back home. I found that hard to believe, so I tried it myself. The Turks call it Doner Kabab, even though it's the same exact thing: meat shaved off a rotating spit. I try to limit my consumption of meat, since it has a negative impact on the planet, but Shawarma is one of my Achilles' Heels. Bereket turned out to be alright, but not as great as the Israelis made it out to be. I've always gone there for Falafel, which they do really well. However, my favorite spot for Shawarma remains the new place on Second, between St. Marks and 7th. It's called Cheep's and it's only $3.75 for a loaded sandwich. That's an unimaginable bargain in NYC, and DELICIOUS!

APPLYING SKILL ORGANICALLY

Just before noon I picked up a guy at Macy's on 34th. He was in an incredible rush to get to 19th and Sixth, and he understood that no left turns could be made until Ninth. He said, "just do your best and I can run from nearby if that's easier." I took Ninth down to 22nd, made a left, and dropped him off at Sixth, so he could run three short blocks. 18th Street would've swallowed more time with all its delivery trucks. This was accomplished in five minutes flat, and was met with a compliment: "You're an excellent taxi driver." Always nice to hear.

ON DUTY IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE

My sister called frantic and in need of a favor. She's at the end of her third year at Parsons New School for Design and she might just be the next big name in fashion. She needed her final essay edited for grammar and content within the next hour. I always carry my little netbook in the cab, so I pulled into the taxi relief stand on 16th, by Union Square. Sure enough, there was free WiFi on that block, and I was able to revise her paper and email it back to her.

CAB RIDE TO MEET WITH A CELEBRITY

I nearly never get anyone famous riding in my cab. I do, however, come within a degree of them. Around 1 P.M. I picked up an eccentric New Yorker in Midtown who was on his phone the whole way up to 77th and Columbus. He was debating over which snacks to serve at some event. He then said, "I am going to meet up with John Fraser right now." Upon later googling the name I discovered he's a renowned chef who owns a restaurant precisely on the corner where I dropped this guy off. I've had world-renowned chefs in my cab before, but I never caught their names.

COAST TO COAST TO SEE HIS DAUGHTER

The last fare of the day was a moody guy who visits his teenage daughter in L.A. bi-monthly. He didn't seem too happy with his life, but I think I managed to uplift him ever so slightly. Since it was already 2 P.M. on a Friday afternoon, we took the local Brooklyn route to JFK.

FROM SHIFT #2

I was taken to work by a cabbie from Uttar Pradesh who has hacked only 1 day a week for 8 years. He spends the rest of his time as a termite exterminator.

A BACHELOR'S DEGREE DON'T MAKE YOU SMART

My first fare was a polite (but drunk) couple who came off as Columbia grad students. They had me transport them from Chinatown back to their uptown abode just after the bars had closed. They tried to pay with a credit card, but the transaction wouldn't go through. I gave them a cash receipt upon cash payment and she asked if she could have the receipt for the first transaction too. "It won't print out because it didn't work," I said. She got real nervous, as if under the impression that she had paid twice. I guess there are some crooked cabbies out there who tell you the credit transaction failed, even after it just processed successfully, so that you pay them in cash as well, essentially doubling the fare. She stumbled out all worried and said she would figure it out in the morning. I hope she figured out that there is nothing to figure out. And it was already morning, by the way, in Morningside Heights.

For those of you who constantly anticipate this happening, know that the great majority of cabdrivers are honest people, regardless of how rude they might seem to you. Driver rudeness comes from overworked jadedness so don't take it personal. If you have to swipe your card a few times before it works, there's no reason to believe it's charging every swipe. Only one successful swipe is possible per fare. If your card is declined or unreadable by the machine, don't assume the driver is secretly scheming to make you pay in cash. Both the cheap machines installed in our cabs by entities we have no control over, and the cards themselves, are unreliable and not in any way our fault. Try to have cash as a backup if you jump in a cab, and please be aware that if you end up making us wait for you to try all of the cards in your wallet or purse, or make us drive around to find you an ATM, the lost time is directly hurting our income for that shift, so tip accordingly.

SLEAZEBALLS GET FREE PIZZA

Another drunk fare entered the cab in Hell's Kitchen and asked to go to a pizzeria on 14th because a gay clerk works there who has a crush on him and always gives him free slices. This guy reminded me of my friend Cormac, but chauvinistically opportunistic. He spoke of the gay clerk the same way he'd speak of easy girls. Cormac isn't like that, but a doppelganger nevertheless.

NEW JERSEY! KNOW YOUR WAY HOME WHEN DRUNK IN NEW YORK

From that same spot two drunk teenage girls got in and asked how much to Jersey City. I said what I always say: regular fare to the tunnel and then double rate, plus the toll. They seemed clueless about directions once inside Jersey, so I held my breath for what might come next. Luckily, they accepted the PATH train alternative. I dropped them off at the Christopher Street station. Later I noticed a South African driver license in the backseat that might have belonged to one of them, but the picture didn't match my memory. Regardless, if you know anyone by the name of Melissa Coton, who left her ID in a yellow cab, please refer them to my email address.

SERVING THE HUMAN BEINGS OF BED-STUY

Because God only know how much they already put up with. Just before sunrise I was returning from a fare out to deep Brooklyn when a black woman and her three children (one an infant) hailed me on the corner of Bedford and Fulton. It's uncommon to be hailed by anyone in that neighborhood, much less a mother with her kids at dawn on a Saturday morning. I have no doubt in my mind that 99% of the other yellow cabs coming down that street would have flown right past them. I'm so glad I was hailed by them because I love serving the under-served segments of my city. To the Ridgewood border they were headed and I rounded the fare from 12 to $10, which she gracefully accepted, appreciatively.

HIPSTERS SEEK YELLOW CABS ON CERTAIN BLOCKS

I've had such good luck coming down a certain street after dropping off anywhere east of Bushwick Avenue, that it's become my routine route of return toward Manhattan. The Mckibben Lofts often have a steady stream of all-night party-goers exiting its doors. Whether they're waiting impatiently for a car service or walking to the L stop, they'll hail me if I roll by. This time I had two foreign hipster ladies, one from Italia and the other from Ecuador, on their way to 92nd and Madison, a $23 fare that most other cabs would have missed in their incessant race back to Manhattan. Why pay the return time and gas out of your own pocket?

DO YOU KNOW OF A GOOD PLACE?

At 7 A.M. I picked up a Montreal documentary filmmaker at Times Square. She's here to interview an elder Jewish writer who survived the Holocaust and she had stayed up all night to organize all of her information. She was headed to breakfast in the Village so she could stroll through Washington Square Park afterward. It's the second time in a couple months that an out- of- towner has asked me to recommend them a diner in the Village. What else but the Waverly? It's either that or 7A Cafe.

AN UPTOWN ROLL ON A SATURDAY MORNING

Downtime? What's that? At 8 A.M. I picked up an Inwood fare in NoHo. Along my return through Hamilton Heights I picked up another Inwood fare. Upon dropping that one off, an East Village fare hopped in. That's what I call an Uptown (and Downtown) roll. $32, 14, and 37.... back to back! And then right before 10 A.M. it happened again. I picked up an Upper West Side fare on Canal Street, and from there I didn't move an inch before a Brooklyn Heights fare hopped in. From that destination I had a lad with 15 minutes to catch the Bolt Bus on West 34th. Right on time! Those were $19, 31, and 25.... back to back! That's how you make $250 in 11 hours. A mixture of luck, intuition, talent, swiftness, and charm.

Go for a swim in the Florida Keys or anywhere along the Atlantic coast of Florida while you still can.....

Photo Credit: NASA's Terra Satellite/ The Huffington Post

Twins Maps But Not Identical

TWO DAY-SHIFTS.....

MAY 2 MAY 3

SUNDAY MONDAY:

NET EARNINGS $233, $125

HOURS ON-DUTY 12, 8

MILES TRAVELED far more, 100

# OF FARES 31, 26

CASH/CREDIT RATIO 18/13, 15/11

OUTER BORO PICKS/DROPS 3/4, 0/1

CROSSINGS USED QMT/QBB(2)/MB(2)/BKB, WBB/ MB

EASTERNMOST La Guardia, JFK

SOUTHERNMOST Bay Ridge, Kennedy

NORTHERNMOST 137th, E71st

OCCUPIED ROUTE Red, Pink

VACANT ROUTE Dark, Light (BLUE)

BUSIEST SECTOR West Village, All along Lower West side

FOREIGNERS: Qatar/Albania/Lebanon/Amsterdam/London/Mexico/OC (CA), Italy/Holland/L.A./Colombia/Spain/Israel/NJ

PHANTOM HACK: Max Hurwitz of Portland, Maine. New Englanders only wish they could drive NY taxicabs.

Carro Bomba En La Plaza Del Tiempo

Image Source: Lone Star Custom Builders

"No more New York," said Crysta Salinas. The 28-year-old Houston woman was stuck waiting in a deli until 2 a.m. because part of a Marriott hotel was evacuated because of the bomb.

It's too bad some Texans won't be visiting our great city again. Unfortunately, as is the general description of the social fabric of Texas, these folks are over-reliant on comfort, convenience, and complacency. Many Texans live one hundred years as if it were one day, where as many New Yorkers live one day as if it were one hundred years. I lived in Houston for 5 years, from age 10 to 15. I know a little bit about Texan culture.

Don't get me wrong, the Lone Star state will always have a tender place in my heart. Its dirt roads are where I learned to drive, at the beginning of a long road to NYC cabbie-hood. It's where my most beloved cousins, aunts, and uncles reside. It's where I migrated as a snowbird for a handful of weeks this past winter. It's where I'll be this upcoming December and January, along with the beautiful Rhode Islander I'm sweet on. She's set to have an entire section of the Houston Center for Contemporary Craft, to display her creations.

But no place, at least out of everywhere I've been, compares with my great city. Once a Gothamite, always a Gothamite. To get back on the subject of car bombs, I'm grateful that whoever loaded up and left that Pathfinder there didn't exactly have all the right ingredients for chaos. I admire the vigilant street vendors who realized the SUV was out of place, for having a sense of ownership and responsibility toward the public space around them. These are the true New Yorkers.

A proud salute to the cabdrivers who sat patiently through nightmarish jams caused by abrupt and massive street closures on Saturday night. We have many blessings to count. Let's be thankful the image below wasn't actualized. Let's be mindful of how good we have it, and how emotionally tiring it must be to live in cities like Baghdad, Kabul, Lebanese and Colombian cities in the 1980s, etc.

In this day and age, car bombs are primarily a Middle-Eastern experience. A curious and unknown fact though, is that they were first introduced to the region by the Stern Gang, a Zionist group trying to kick Britain out of Palestine in the 1940s. Did you also know that in 1920 an Italian member of the Galleanists left a horse-drawn wagon carrying explosives and shrapnel in the Financial District of Manhattan, killing 38 and wounding 400?

Photo Source: http://www.sabbah.biz