Hackneyed Peepholes

#1+2. At 6:50 A.M. on Bedford Avenue in Brooklyn, the best deli- sandwich- maker stepped out from behind his counter to feed the pigeons scraps of yesterday's bagels. He lovingly tore each one into pieces and tossed them, spaced neatly apart, onto the sidewalk and street. His boss came outside from behind the register and scolded him for this, saying, "Allah is in charge of feeding the pigeons-- NOT YOU." After the boss stepped back inside I reassured the best deli- sandwich- maker on Bedford that what he was doing was superb and inspiring. We agreed: these are creatures and that all creatures must eat. What was I doing there? Waiting for a miracle fare back into Manhattan.

#3. Poor cabdriver. Seems to be an owner-operator. Someone must have slammed on their brakes in front of him. Driving through Times Square is an ironic experience. All the flashing lights are intended to make you look around and be dazzled, but not while you're driving.

#4. Outside the JFK taxi lot-- an emergency delivery of spare parts, fresh off the CARcass!

#5. An outdoor piano at McCarren Park quietly awaits the next passerby to play.

Do Something About This

Half of the bathroom stalls at JFK's central taxi hold are out of order, with 5 gallon buckets stuffed into the toilets. It has been this way for a long, long time. Instead of 8 toilets for up to 500 cab drivers, only about 4 are functional. Mind you, hundreds of hacks remain trapped inside this massive lot for 2-4 hours.

This is how much respect and appreciation our city has for us. The worst part is that TLC ex-chairman Daus paid several visits to the lot and posed in pictures with smiling cabbies, which were shown in the Taxi Insider (a newspaper representing our transportation industry). Don't come and give us hugs, pretending to be our best friend on camera, and then leave the bathrooms in this state of disorder for months on end. I sure hope this new Yassky guy is more sensitive to our basic needs. Yes, that's right. We have a new TLC Chairman.

Image Sources: Wikipedia and Verizon

Serene on the Seventeenth

Photo from fascinating Gothamist article about cabbies.

At 4:30 A.M. I depart the depot and come over the Brooklyn Bridge. Several vacant cabs hog the main off-ramp (Civic Center), so I opt for the Park Row exit instead. A vacant cab heads straight onto Barclay, so I go left down the Canyon of Heroes. Just before Bowling Green, I pick up my first fare. Up Avenue of the Americas. Right on 34th. Have a nice night (day).

Just a few feet ahead I stop for Craig, my second fare. We take Madison and Broadway all the way up to 161st Street. My taxicab is the friendliest, most non-judgmental one he's ever ridden in. His advice on heterosexual romance is the most omniscient and non-intrusive that a drunk, homosexual passenger has ever offered. By the time we get to Harlem, he feels so comfortable that he politely asks if he could sit up front, and I instinctively let him. He tacks on a $20 tip to the $19 fare and disappears into the predawn abyss.

As I make a U-turn for downtown again, I am hailed by a man trying to get to his hotel on 125th and St. Nicholas. It's his birthday and his "lucky night." At the first red light he rolls down his window and asks a woman walking on the sidewalk if she has a cigarette. She comes over and he opens the door. She steps right in and they start making out. I haven't had my cup of coffee yet and I'm entirely unsure of what's happening. She pets his head and tells him to relax. She has a thick New York accent and he sort of does, too. He rounds the tip to the next dollar and they step out.

Minutes later I scoop up two buff men on Central Park West at 105th, heading up to 171st and Fort Washington. As soon as they exit the cab, a vulnerable young transplant from San Luis Obispo runs over and hops in. He's going to 96th and Amsterdam. With that, my predawn roll in upper Manhattan ends. It isn't until after sunrise that I find my next fare, and only due to swift stratagem.

I'm cruising up 4th Avenue and vacant cabs infest every possible route, except East 10th. As I complete that long and potentially treacherous right turn, a man in my peripheral vision steps out of his apartment building. I slow to a crawl and poke my head out the window. Mere eye contact yields a trip to Flushing Avenue and Bogart (Brooklyn). I return via Metropolitan, which yields a pleasant fare back over the bridge to 9th and C, followed by okra on rice for breakfast, at the Punjabis on Houston St.

Around 8 A.M. I transport a Tudor City trio to Newark Airport ($55). After returning through the Holland Tunnel I pick up a Jewish trio in TriBeca, en route to Friends Seminary for their teen's exam. Upon dropping off, I turn the corner onto Rutherford Place and stop to jot down a few notes. Soon I hear whistling from behind. One of them needs a brisk emergency ride back to TriBeCa to grab documents they forgot at home, and then come right back. I do it all with a smile. He says, "I want you to have lunch on me." That's two $20 bills and $10 from the initial trip. $50 in 25 minutes. Or $105 in justsengers, bridges and tunnels, driver philosophy, exceptionally sweet passengers, food, income, lower manhattan, mid and uptown over an hour. That alone covers the (fixed) lease!

Second half of the shift coming soon to a blog near you.....
Stop in at the tips blog for today's digest: Wishful Yearning (Citizens' Band)

Thank You Eyjafjallajokull

Image Source: http://blog.roomwithaview.is/

It seems everyone was so focused on the widespread inconveniences caused by that volcanic eruption in Iceland that they forgot to look at it from a different perspective. In the cab all week I broke the ice with passengers by commenting on how much kerosene wasn't being burned into the atmosphere, hence giving the planet's lungs a little time to catch their breath.

I HEARD ON THE NEWS THAT AS SOON AS SOME AIRLINES FLEW TEST FLIGHTS WITHOUT PASSENGERS THROUGH THE VOLCANIC ASHES AND CAME OUT ALIVE, THERE WAS AN UPROAR WORLDWIDE QUESTIONING THE NEED FOR AIRSPACE RESTRICTIONS IN THE FIRST PLACE. I'M SORRY BUT HUMAN BEINGS ARE QUITE THE INSATIABLE CROWD. IF THE AIRLINES AND THEIR GOVERNMENTS WOULD HAVE BEEN CARELESS AND ALLOWED FLIGHTS TO PLUNGE CATASTROPHICALLY OUT OF THE SKIES, THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN A CONTROVERSY TOO. YOU CAN'T WIN WITH PEOPLE. THE BLAME GAME NEVER CEASES.

FACT OF THE MATTER IS THAT JET ENGINES SUCK IN OXYGEN IN ORDER TO IGNITE THE TURBINES, WHICH COMPRESS THE AIR, THEREBY PUSHING THE PLANE FORWARD. WE DO NOT WANT TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS WHEN FINE DUST PARTICLES FROM THE VOLCANO INTERRUPT AND CHOKE THE ENGINES AND TURBINES.

On a side note, here's an article about a famous comedian who took a taxi from Norway to Belgium. And here's an article about how Eyjafjallajokull is affecting New York City. I love the butterfly effect. I do! Please do give my other blog a brief visit, especially if you live in NYC. You might find it helpful, whether you take taxicabs or drive one.

The latest post is called FROM FLEA TO SHINING FLEA!

7 Lovely Fares

My dispatcher called me at 5 am, a whole hour after my latest intended time of departure from home. There aren't enough hours in a day, so I wound up staying up way past my bedtime. Whose ungodly bedtime is at 7 pm anyhow?

"I'll be right there Bobo."

"O.K. Avineri, just making sure you're coming".

Like I've said before: the sweetest taxi dispatcher in NYC. I run out the door and hail. A Coptic cabbie pulls over on Metro and almost pulls a refusal on me for not heading into Manhattan, but succumbs when I beg and plea that I'm a cabbie too, trying to make it to my garage at a reasonable hour. At the end he refuses to accept more than a $10 bill for the $12 fare. He wouldn't let me pay him full price, let alone the tip. I'd do the same for any yellow brethren of mine.

It's a late start, but my luck makes up for it. First fare is a Macy's employee who was walking to the subway and forgot something at home in Cobble Hill. I stop for him there first and then we're off to Grand Central Station, via Brooklyn Bridge and FDR. He's headed for the soon-to-open new Macy's store in Yonkers, and he does not want to miss his MTA North. $25 right of the bat.

Minutes later I land a fare to JFK for a young lady who got a couple days off to go visit family back home in Los Angeles. We discuss the futuristic vibe of Virgin America. Add $54. I catch up on my zees at the central hold for an hour and twenty minutes, before taking two women from Charlotte, NC to their hotel in Times Square. They ask me for good eating places. They claim to like all foods. I prepare them a written list while in short lived bumper-to-bumper traffic on the Van Wyck.

#1. Yatagan Turkish Grill on Macdougal in Greenwich Village.

#2. Nam Son Vietnamese on Grand St. in Chinatown.

#3. Grimaldi's Brick Oven Pizzeria in DUMBO.

Add $60 and subtract $5 for the QM Tunnel. I would have taken the free (and panoramic) bridge, but 1010 am reported a stalled vehicle on the lower level, which affects all approaches. Soon after, a black Costa Rican lady who speaks nearly no Spanish got in, late for work on the other end of Midtown. She's been here since age 1 and will end up living in the Caribbean some day soon. Three rides later a Slavic Jew on 22nd and First requests Grand Central, but he's allergic to 42nd Street. He's pleased with my shortcut via 33rd and up Park.

Across the street, two girls look around in confusion. I roll down my window and offer assistance. They seek the Holiday Inn on 57th and have no other info, and no cabbie on their side of the street wishes to help. I flash my hazard lights, put it in park, and run across all the lanes to haul over their luggage. They kindly share an Excedrin for my migraine.

Moments later a Mexican employee of Lucky's Famous Burgers motions me to turn left into the most backed up block in Hell's Kitchen. When I get him to tell me that he's going to Chelsea with two big boxes of frozen fries that are sitting half way down the block, I offer to pull over without getting off Ninth, and run over to carry them back with him. I then utilize the time we saved avoiding traffic standstills by stopping at the 99 cent Bangladeshi Pizzeria to get us each a couple slices of the best cheap cheese in NY. He's flattered.

Later in the day I had the honor of taking the two joint owners of Empire Diner in Chelsea to West 72nd. Theirs is the diner that flashes bright as you travel along Tenth Avenue.

Subway Safety and Taxi Price-Gouging

NOTE: I've revised the previous post, adding specific refusal rules that I copy/pasted off the TLC website, removing unnecessary clutter (like the Arab driver's beautiful accent, which could be mistaken for xenophobia on my part), and clarifying what I meant when mentioning Danny Glover (which could be misconstrued as racism, but really just an empathic emotion I feel toward his plight for dignity). Please take another gander at it if you've already read it. In today's post I'd like to cover a few loosely knit themes. Bear with me.

Did you hear about the lady who jumped into a subway rail pit in Manhattan last week, in order to save her toiletries pouch that she accidently dropped down there? According to the report, people in the station were yelling at her to lay down on the track as an unstoppable 6 train approached, but she panicked and ended up crushed between train car and platform.

The MTA doesn't put effort into training people to survive such a predicament, probably because they don't want folks to get the wrong ideas in their heads. If I understand correctly, the best advice is to lay down flat on your back in the rancid gap between the tracks, and let the train go over and past you. That is how an altruist saved a fallen straphanger in 2007. Perhaps the gap under the edge of the platform is good too. I don't know. We (as New Yorkers) should know these things. One thing's for sure. Don't go chasing after something if it falls into the pit (unless you're saving a human being and you know what you're doing). The MTA will retrieve items in due time. That's what us taxi drivers pay them to do. Ride in our cabs and we'll send a 50 cent contribution, from every fare, to all the worthwhile causes of the underground.

Onto the more current topic of double rate scams. It's all over the news and being amply discussed among cabbie circles right now. All I have to say is that I saw it coming. It's easy for a driver to engage the rate 4 button with a light tap on the meter, at any point during a trip. It's not hard to get away with it because nearly no one takes their receipt, which would reveal the scam outright (Nassau-West(chester) would be printed on it.) Such an easy deception can be as tempting as human nature is predictable, particularly in the psyche of people who are so poorly compensated (and even occasionally punished) for their ceaseless efforts to serve the public proficiently, and to protect their welfare.

I'm not advocating anything here. I would be extremely angry if my cabdriver did that to me, and the golden rule happens to be my religion. I treat my passengers the way I'd want to be treated. I'm just saying, "What'd you expect?" I guess every collar gets a turn as criminal. Blue, white, and now yellow. I feel like they (TLC) might have known what kind of inevitable traps they were setting up when they introduced the new system. Call me Mel Gibson in the movie "Conspiracy Theory."

I, for one, always try to end every fare about a half block early, so that my fares have a few moments to swipe their card or count their cash before we stop, especially if there's no safe place to pull over (often the case), which minimizes danger time. Since I remain focused on driving while searching with my finger to end the fare and print the receipt, and since all of these rate buttons are so small and closely placed, I have made the rare mistake of pressing rate 4 (perhaps twice a month, or so). But since I end the fare within 1-3 seconds of the mistake, it has no effect on the total the passenger owes me.

I'm sure similar scenarios of accidently pressing the wrong button happen to cabdrivers all the time. You go to pause the meter, so it doesn't run while you check your street atlas for an obscure destination, or because you agreed to wait for a passenger without charging them for wait time, and all of a sudden the meter reads rate 4 instead of the usual 1. In a situation like that I either just end the metered fare immediately or explain to the passenger (if we've already established mutual rapport) what has accidently occurred (it's now charging double) and we settle for a mutual solution, like turning it off halfway between here and there. Examples like this (where being as earnest and fair as possible can ironically land you into trouble) abound in taxi life. Why do you think the city found that 35,558 out of the 48,000 drivers (only about 40,000 are active drivers) had illegally pressed the rate 4 button? Here's an excerpt from the NY Times:

The taxi industry vigorously challenged the city’s findings, saying it was unimaginable that such a pervasive problem could be the result of deliberate fraud. “This is clearly a systematic failure on the part of the meters and the technology,” said Bhairavi Desai, the executive director of the New York Taxi Workers Alliance, which represents cabbies. “For this to be so widespread — nearly every single driver — makes no sense,” she added.

One solution a neighbor of mine presented is to have the meter buttons color-coded. Right now they're all gray and the same small size, one right next to the other. I must say that when all this hoopla came out about the epidemic of price-gouging, I was expecting there to be an instant increase in passenger hostility, mistrust, and suspicion.... but in the handful of shifts I've worked since the story proliferated in the media, I simply haven't seen that happen. Passengers, for the most part, continue to be polite and understanding, or at least not incriminating. All they have to do is look at the far right side of the meter and see what code number is being displayed.

1 is a normal in-town fare.

2 is a JFK rate (to and from that airport and Manhattan)

3 is a Newark Airport rate (starts at 17.50, plus tolls)

4 should only be on there if you've left the city limits of the five boroughs.

Once 2, 3, or 4 appears on the meter it cannot be reversed back to 1.

Every once in a while a cabdriver will outright forget to even initiate the meter when a passenger first enters. It usually happens when something distracts the driver during the pick-up. It could be the frantic loading of luggage (or other cargo) into the trunk. It could also be that the driver's only way to pick up the passenger was by stopping at a precarious point in traffic. It may be that upon entry, the passenger urgently requested a right turn be made from the leftmost lane (or vice versa). The driver must then attempt to safely shift several lanes of traffic within a matter of seconds and feet.

I'd say the most common one for me is when I drop someone off that involves a frantic scramble of some sort (children/cargo/time crunch/traffic obstruction), and then a new passenger immediately enters the cab with their own frantic scramble. I take off again instantly. I'm lucky if I remember to erase the previous passenger's total off the meter, let alone engage it anew. No, that doesn't mean this passenger will have to pay the previous fare. The meter isn't accruing anymore. It's sitting idle, waiting for the final receipt-printing to be engaged by the driver.

If I forget to turn the meter on, I tell the passenger that it's pay-as-you-wish, like at the Metropolitan Museum. Whatever they felt the ride was worth (obviously if they're clueless tourists I'm going to be forthright on an estimate). However, I never demand payment of any sort in a situation like this, because I take full responsibility for my own amnesia. It's merely a suggested donation, as they say at the museum. I have heard stories of cabdrivers pressing the double rate 4 for enough blocks to make up for the time and distance they covered while the meter was forgetfully unengaged. This is often done on the sly, although the final price of the cab ride comes out to nearly exactly what it would have been if the meter had been initiated normally at the start of the trip. The driver simply didn't want to disturb the passenger with such technicalities. Like I said before, our deeds and sensibilities go largely unnoticed, and are sometimes even reprimanded and criminalized.

There are, however, bad apples among us, as in any industry or group of people. Here's an article about the lousiest and most notorious modern hack alive. His scheme has further ruined our delicate reputation as cabdrivers in a city as harshly judgmental as this.

http://www.nydailynews.com/news/ny_crime/2010/03/01/2010-03-01_crooked_cabbie_wasim_khalid_cheema_took_public_for_40000_ride_say_officials.html

Lastly, please take a moment to read this short entry by another driver. It sums up and provides perfect examples of how poorly we often get treated by passengers, and for no legitimate reason.

http://nyc-cab.blogspot.com/2010/03/rainy-day.html

And here's an interesting random fact within the rules of the TLC. It applies whether or not the driver has their off-duty light on!

	From Driver Rule 2-50e8 (in PDF): If the driver has been operating the taxicab for more than eight (8) hours of any continuous twenty-four (24) hour period, then he may refuse to take a passenger to these destinations: Westchester or Nassau County or to Newark Airport.

BEST OF OTHER TAXI BLOGGER POSTS

I'd like to take this opportunity to share a few of my favorite entries to have been churned out by fellow taxicab bloggers in recent times:

First of all, I want to point out a fairly new member in our driver-writer network, who has all but blown me away with his stupendous abilities as an author and as a Boston cabdriver. I know a few months ago I raved about a new taxi blog out of Boston, but this one is even newer. I've heard it said on many occasions that Boston is "one of the smartest cities" in the country (due in large part to its universities).

Since I am a strong believer that there are multiple (forms of) intelligence(s) across the human landscape, I believe it takes more than just plain book smarts and

over-rationalized lab research to pass as a "smart city." A (just as) large segment of the population must have certain (less logical) sensibilities, like appreciative

resourcefulness, interpersonal diplomatic xenophilia, and street savviness. That's what excites me when not one, but two of the best new taxi story-tellers have

come out of Boston. I don't particularly (personally) care for that city, but I am glad to see that it can now truly merit the title: "one of America's smartest cities" (at least in my book), thanks to its wise and word-prolific cabdrivers.

With no further ado, I present to you: HACKNEYED SOJOURN. A Boston taxi blog. Literally every one of his few entries are solid. By the way, the other Bostonian I was mentioning is THE HACK. He's also got back-to-back, masterpiece postings. And now we come to my favorite New Yorker in this worldwide network of ink-slinging

hacks. If you only have time for two entries, these are my recommendations:

http://cabsareforkissing.blogspot.com/2009/09/three-nights.html#links

http://cabsareforkissing.blogspot.com/2009/08/how-to-beat-ticket.html#links

Short and sweet (or honest) entries from two different drivers:

Here's an excellent one about the NYPD/TLC's heartless attack on cabbies:

http://nycab.blogspot.com/2010/02/give-me-break.html

A picture taken at the JFK holding lot. Dozens of nationalities represented and each

ethnic huddle of cabbies plays its own music loud while standing around, shooting

the shit: http://nyc-cab.blogspot.com/2010/03/spanish-music-torture.html

I haven't even had a chance to look at all the other blogs on my international roll,

so forgive me if I failed to include one of your remarkable taxi stories in my review.

SCRUMPTIOUS SNIPPETS FROM 1/25/10

It was the one year anniversary of my beloved Jenine and I. I spent the later part of the day caged inside 4H55, earning what would become a near personal record-breaking net profit of $272 for 13 hours of navigation on a Monday night in this nefarious metroplex.... all while wishing I was with her, whether in her state or mine. Ocean or Empire. Many say long distance relationships only last if they are the real deal. This one has proven true, through and through. Here are the high and low-lights from that lonesome taxi shift of 37 fares (that became less melancholic when Fela Kuti filled the radio with his perfect soundtrack to taxi driving at night. If you're not familiar with his music, what a pity).

16:00: a scruffy duo of Dutch men in show biz enter the cab near the Fashion Institute of Technology en route to West 4^th. Each is on his own cellular call, but both dialogues center around some film shoot in Cape Town. All in English. No trace of Afrikaans. I get nine for a $7.40 fare. That's a 22% tip.

Down the block enters a woman who reminds me of my step grandmother (a psychologist in L.A.). En route to Chelsea I guess (out loud) she's an NYU professor, based on where I picked her up and her demeanor. I'm correct! She teaches law, and although a bit jaded, holds a pleasant chat with her inquisitive cabdriver. I get eight for a $6.30 fare. That's a 27% tip.

17:00: Scoop up a fare from Soho to La Guardia. Lady in a suit who came here on a business day-trip from Chicago is home bound. Her fingers are crossed because apparently it's snowing heavily there. I get thirty for a $22.90 fare. That's a 31% tip! My wait at the airport is brief and I'm soon city-bound again with yet another pleasant lady in a suit, who also flew in from Chicago (for a corporate meeting tomorrow). She had been stuck at O'hare International for several hours (due to weather) and she is ready to call it a night at the Roosevelt Hotel in Midtown, but we end up in an unexpected traffic jam on the QMT tunnel approach.

I felt bad because I told her this was the quickest way there during the evening rush, since most of the congestion is often outbound along this route at that hour. 1010 WINS finally clarifies the situation. There are emergency roving pothole repairs in progress near the toll booths. She tells me not to stress out about it. I get forty for a $35.37 fare (far more expensive than it should be). Precisely why she gave me a 13% tip. Far more expensive than it should have been. I wonder about the fate of the other lady's flight (and Chi-town cab ride home?). Delays abound about the land.

18:00: A retired Finnish double date on vacation (and staying at the Roosevelt) step in as soon as she steps out. They're heading to a hockey game at Mad Square tonight. They're fond of the Rangers because talented Finnish players have historically lined their ranks. We got into other histories too. Like that of Finland itself. Ruled by Sweden, then Russia, and finally independent. I mentioned a movie on my favorite films list about a 3-way language barrier that didn't stop two enemy soldiers and an indigenous Laplander from becoming friends. It's called Kukushka and they had indeed seen it (and agreed it's superb). I really like it when someone from the actual country a film is set in approves of that film. Gives me the right to keep advertising it. Got thirteen for an $11.60 fare. That's a 12% tip.

20:00: A couple hours later I was back in the Penn Station vicinity. I was hailed by two women who had taken the day off from work to take Amtrak up to Albany, to join a large demonstration against contamination of water caused by the extraction of natural gas, which the governor recently gave the green light for in several sensitive sections of upstate NY. Both ladies wore professional attire. One was Taiwanese. The other was Filipina. I dropped them each off in their respective neighborhoods of Chelsea and Greenwich Village. Got twelve for a $10.40 fare. That's a 16% tip.

21:00: Barely noteworthy, but definitely the blockheaded simpleton of the night. He was a schmuck in a suit, slightly younger than I am, with a sense of entitlement more inflated than a hot air balloon. I only had my own window down when he got in, and it wasn't like the interior of the cab was cold. The first thing he said was "roll up the windows." Not a please or a thank you in sight, and with condescension in his tone and persona. "Is that good?," I asked, upon leaving only a crack open for my own sanity. "I guess," he replied, with the audacity of a 5 year old. The rest of the ride was silent. Got ten for a $9.10 fare from Hell's K to No Ho. That's a 10% tip. Like I said, not much of a story, but it infuriated me. I have anger in my genes and too much pride on my zodiac sign.

But it didn't take me long to cool off because of the grace and humor with which my next passengers treated me. They were an older couple who commute down from the Mohegan Sun resort once a week to teach Casino Business at NYU. They were heading up to Grand Central so I instantly guessed that they had parked their car in New Haven and jumped on the MTA North. Damn I'm good at guessing geographical technicalities. That's the second time in one shift I transported NYU professors and played a guessing game with them. Got eleven for an $8.20 fare. That's a 34% tip!

02:30: a young, native New York couple get a ride from a bar on Bedford to their Ridgewood apartment. She's Guyanese, and by the way he treats her, he's a prick (who claims to love farting because of the fuzzy feeling he gets down below.) "That's because your prostate is right next to your ass," I remark, in a smart aleck tone. All the while I'm pondering how she should just get a strap-on and help him achieve more of that anal pleasure he was talking about, instead of putting up with his perpetual verbal abuse. He did tip me better than anyone else that night, and I am frankly appreciative of that. His intoxication allowed him to be more sensitive toward how effortful and efficient I was at my job. Got twenty six for a $13.90 fare. That's an 87% tip!

SERVING LA GUARDIA TO THE MAX

It's always a mouthwatering mystery for the cabdriver to wait in line at the airport taxi lot, wondering who (of all the people stepping off their planes) is going to happen to be at the front of the passenger line (at the terminal) when the cab finally creeps its way up there (from behind a solid single-file stream of taxis). The most fist-clenching unknowns are....

1. Will they be going to Manhattan, just into the neighborhood adjacent to the airport, or all the way out into the land of rate 4 (double on the meter beyond city limits). This becomes especially relevant nearing the last 1/4 of one's shift.

2. Where did they fly in from? Perhaps they're foreigners, domestic tourists, here for a brief business venture, or just plain New Yorkers returning from trips with just as many variables.

On one particular episode in and out of La Guardia (NY's domestic flights hub), I was sort of on a roll (aside from the 2.5 hour holding lot delay and an adventurous incident with a college boy from Shanghai, who was studying Biology at SUNY in Stony Brook). It all began at 7:17 am on a Sunday last month. I shuttled an out-of-town couple to the end of their splendid urban vacation. I never learned which North American city they were from because all three of us were too tired to converse. Don't be alarmed. A fatigued cabbie doesn't allow themselves to be delirious, just cranky and quiet, with bloodied coffee eyes. By 7:30 we were at the terminal, thanks to the thoroughly unoccupied bridges of Williamsburg and Kosciuszko.

It wasn't until 10:00 that I was bestowed with a new passenger. Until then I had passed the time imparting a few tricks of the trade upon a young new duo of Sikh drivers from my garage that had recognized me in the massive central holding lot (though not as big as Kennedy's). The college freshman who rechristened my cab had moved from far eastern China to far eastern Long Island in the last year, to attend the State University of New York. The first thing he said upon entering, and kept repeating profusely in a thick Mandarin accent, was "30-09 Broadway in Queens, the Long Island Railroad please".

I'm always afraid of seeming as inadequate or as apathetic as the common cabdriver, especially because of my unusually youthful appearance. Therefore I always try to be as nimble as humanly possible about locating the destination in my mental map, choosing the best route, and merging into traffic.... all within seconds. But every now and then I'm either stumped or the request simply doesn't make any sense. This one was the latter. "Sir, I believe there are closer LIRR stations than that. There's one in Flushing and the main hub is in Jamaica. Where in Long Island are you trying to go?"

He immediately grew very concerned and robotically repeated the address, which as far as I could tell, was in Astoria. Why would you go that far west to catch an eastbound train if there were stations nearby? I started driving down Junction, making my way toward the part of Jackson Heights where Broadway begins, in case the address was (for some Queens-eccentric reason) down there, even though the logical location (according to the digits) would be by the corner of 31st Street in Astoria, (coincidently) where the N and W subway trains stop overhead.

That was one of the few shifts in which I forgot to bring my hefty sack of maps with me. Otherwise, I would have simply checked the MTA map for clues to decipher his intent.

He only got more nervous and less understandable, but he did finally mention that he was in fact headed back to school in Stony Brook (Suffolk County).

I drove up Broadway, all the way to the address he'd given me, all the while warning him that (as far as I knew) there were no LIRR stations in Astoria. I even shut the meter off way early and told him $16 would be his total fare (in an attempt to calm him down). When we got there I pointed at the elevated subway platform and told him that he could theoretically take a city train and eventually arrive at a commuter rail junction, but that it made no sense for him to have taken a taxi to that spot.

I pulled his heavy suitcase out of the trunk and threw it on my back. I assertively motioned and called him to follow me as I began walking briskly up the staircase with his bag. He tried to tell me it was OK and he didn't need my help, but I had to figure all this out for at least myself and my insatiable geographical curiosity, and he looked like he would've died carrying that suitcase to the platform. I glanced at an MTA local and regional map (back to back on each side) that an agent gave me. Sure enough, the LIRR station in Woodside would've been his best bet, followed by a transfer unto the Port Jefferson branch in Jamaica.

We had just been by that part of town less than 10 minutes ago and it would end up taking him the better part of an hour to make that connection aboard the subway. I pointed all this out to him on the map and offered to drive him back over there free of charge. He gave in quite easily and the whole mood of our relationship made a 180 degree turn. He displayed a very carefree and thankful attitude, as if all of a sudden he discovered he could completely trust in me. His welfare was my main concern (not my time or income).

He broke into a wide grin and started telling me all about how badly he wanted to switch majors to Chemistry and how much less complicated the train system was in Shanghai. He explained that google had given him that erroneous address and that I was "a very warm-hearted person." Actually, nope. I'm merely setting an example of the way I'd like all of humanity to behave. Loving my neighbor as myself, as the saying goes, because that is life's main purpose. At the end of the trip he offered me an extra $10 bill. I took it because one should not block another's opportunity to give, or take, for that matter.

From Woodside I returned to the airport empty because I had a shortie pass. These are slips of paper that the airport taxi dispatchers hand out to cabdrivers when the fare isn't going beyond Queens. It enables the driver to return and get a new passenger without waiting in the enormous lot again, but it must be done within 90 minutes (more than enough time). Otherwise, waiting that long the first time would have been severely detrimental to their total net profit for that shift, and cabdrivers would be less likely to stay and serve the arriving flights upon shuttling over departing ones.

I bounced right back out of the airport with yet another college student. I guess this was the big end of winter break for all the area schools (of higher education). She goes to Parsons and lives in Williamsburg, just like my sister. I asked her to let me guess the city she had flown in from by telling me the first letter.

"I had one lay-over and the cities start with 'V' and 'M'."

I scanned the U.S. map in my head, since La Guardia is 98% domestic flights. I could only think of Minneapolis and the 'V' must be some small town in Minnesota?

"I'll give you another hint. The flight came in from the north."

"Oh yeah, Canada Air goes here too! That's easy then. Vancouver and Montreal!"

She had been skiing in British Columbia over the break and her father's company, Nestle in London, was sponsoring both her education and her vacation. For this she was grateful.

After dropping her off on Bedford and South 4th, I decided to drive up the main drag of local artisans, on my way back to the airport empty again (since I had yet another shortie pass). The plan was: if I picked someone up going into Manhattan, that would end my airport love affair. But otherwise, La Guardia was shaping up to be my pin ball machine for the day. I had one hipster take a ride just down the street with a couple buckets of paint. Then I found myself heading to the airport empty again. On the way there I tuned in to a lovely new musician's NPR debut on the radio. I got to indulge my ethnomusicological obsessions by learning about Zee Avi, who mixes Malaysian and English lyrics with beautiful acoustic/ukulele skills. Two of her must-hear songs are "Bitter Heart" and "Kantoi." You can watch these on YouTube.

I came back to LGA and got a slightly uptight couple heading to Brooklyn Heights. From that same neighborhood, I picked up a nice man going to Windsor Terrace. Then I cruised vacant through Park Slope, en route to Manhattan, when I picked up a trio from Dallas who needed a ride to the Waldorf (hotel), to get their luggage, and then onward to EWR (Newark Airport).

So after all those Brooklyn/Queens fares in a row, I was finally shot back into Manhattan by the same passengers who shot me right back out of the island again. And they happened to be friends with Derek Lam, the fashion designer who gave my sister an internship a couple of summers ago, after his partner got a ride to work in my cab one morning (my greatest serendipitous networking breakthrough to date). I know these all sound like a whole lot of tangents, but I'm just trying to point out how evident the interconnectedness of everything is in this profession of mine. I love it!

BUSY WALLS OF THE HOLDING LOT

Most of my airport passengers mistakenly think the taxicabs that pulled up to the long line at the terminal simply just ventured in freely off the streets or directly from having dropped someone off at departures. They have no clue that there are enormous "holding lots" with dozens of rows where cabdrivers must park in the order they arrive and idle (engine off) for anywhere from 1 to 4 hours, before being dispatched into a specific terminal with a little paper pass that either prints out of a machine or is handed to them by personnel.

Both La Guardia and Kennedy's taxi holding lots have either a cafeteria or a snack kiosk that are almost as expensive as the food courts inside the terminals. It's a captive audience either way. Another thing these unknown taxi holds have in common is that the walls around their restrooms are completely covered in ads made crudely by drivers offering and requesting the lease or purchase of a taxicab. Owner-operators looking for partners to split shifts with. Garage drivers tired of dealing with massive depersonalized fleets. And every now and then a bulletin board style photocopy of some information relevant and dire to all hacks.








SOME THOUGHTS ON THE SCRIBBLES ABOVE:
1) PROBASHIBARTA: A Bangladeshi community newspaper.
2) Where is the name 'Miboun' native to? My guess: Tunisia.
3) Available in Hicksville? How many NYC hacks live in Nassau?
4) You want to BUY a taxi. Not a Bay State Taxi. Massholes.
5) "CAB FOR SALL?" Sall already has a cab. Put it up for sale.

Below is a call to action about this past Halloween's assault on a cabbie by 4 masked men in Staten Island. It demands we get the same protection granted to Metropolitan Transit Authority workers. A sign on the partition, just as on the trains and buses, that says it is a felony and a federal offense to assault a cabdriver. You can click on the picture to zoom in.

The requested upgrade reminds me of New Yorkers that tell me they used to be able to threaten parking ticket cops with violence until it became so prevalent that they were made an official part of the NYPD. It also reminds me of last night's passenger's account of what she witnessed while sitting on her porch, on Hemlock Street and Jamaica Avenue in East NY. A Chinese food delivery guy on a bicycle stopped to check an address. Four teen boys attacked him from every direction. They punched his face, kicked his guts, took his food, and stole his bike.

SMALL, BUT CRITICAL REQUEST!

TO THOSE WHO'VE BEEN PASSENGERS OF MY TAXICAB: To my absolute dismay, I have a court date at TLC on the 26th of this month. It involves having accrued over 6 points on my DMV license during a 15 month period. But they're counting back from what was my last violation date: January 08. I'm being punished for minor infractions, 80% of which occurred during my first year on the taxi force: 2006/07.

I've never been a dangerous, nor careless driver. I simply had the naivety to think I could bend certain rules, safely, while fulfilling my duty as an efficient/effective form of transportation when subways, buses, and private cars don't quite cut it. It was an assumption born of the same slack granted to other professional drivers who serve the city: garbage and delivery trucks, bus drivers, etc.. But it turns out we're not in the same league, not as essential to the public? Instead we're easy prey for cheap shots aimed at increasing city revenue.

So I'm asking anyone who has riden in my cab to send a brief testimonial of your experience to my email address: mapsut@gmail.com. Include as much contact info as you can (for credibility), state your profession/role in society, and try to mention things you noticed about the ride and/or driver (me) that were uncommon (beyond the call of duty). There is usually at least one, if not several, every fare. Do I sound full of myself? I'm only being honest because trying my best to provide excellent service is ingrained in me. I will collect all the testimonials into a print out to show the judge. Please help me save my taxi license from being revoked. I sincerely and adamantly believe that the citizens and guests of New York do not deserve to lose one of their best cabbies.

I always treat each and every fare as if it were ME in the backseat. I go above and beyond in my fulfillment of the taxicab riders bill of rights. I never fail to use hazard lights in advance of a pick-up or drop-off. I pull over as close to the curb as possible. I always choose one side of the avenue to comb for fares and never tear across lanes. I gently attempt to interact with everyone, especially tourists, to give them a good impression of our city, and because I care deeply about our reputation as cabdrivers. I always jump out to help load and unload trunk cargo, and hold the car door for elders and handicaps.

I carry a list of daily street closures and keep tuned to the radio traffic reports in order to avoid getting my fares stuck in jams. I know every street below Houston and in the village maze. I have on-the-spot directions (natural born mental GPS) to all the city's landmarks and knowledge of most neighborhoods in Brooklyn and Queens. I carry street maps of Bergen, Nassau, and Westchester counties. This profession is to me more than just a job. It's a labor of love, honor, and service to humanity and to the greatest city on Earth.

An analysis of the points under scrutiny, you might ask? An undercover cop caught me coming to an 'almost' complete stop in Harlem at 5:00 am, upon scouting cautiously 360 degrees. Then I got another 'disobeyed traffic device' for using the bus lane to go around a double parked delivery truck in SoHo. Then I got a 'passed red light' for being the last one in a caravan of turning vehicles on the tail end of a green left turn arrow. I'm sorry but that is not what you'd call 'running a red'.

And to complete my assessment of the points being scrutinized, yet another 'disobeyed traffic device' for making a left turn unto Crescent Street shortly after 7 am, in an attempt to please passengers who were real late to a business meeting in Manhattan from a delayed flight arrival at La Guardia. The traffic on Astoria Blvd. was severely backed up and this move would have saved us a good quarter hour, but instead it might end up costing me my taxi license. Where is the fairness?

Thus far I have received two testimonials, out of the two dozen passengers who enthusiastically agreed to send one in since I started asking at the end of each immaculate fare since this past weekend. Please don't forget about me. This city is running the risk of losing every last one of its few remaining quality cabbies, due to either unfair summonses or simply just feeling the lack of worthwhile compensation and appreciation. Do you want to have to give the driver directions every time you get into a cab? Or not be able to speak with them because of their insolence?

HERE ARE SOME TESTIMONIALS THUS FAR:

"to whom it may concern:
on 10/12/09 i rode with Mr Gil Avineri, and had a very pleasant experience. i found him to be polite, helpful, and a courteous driver. at no point did he speed, make me feel unsafe by weaving or aggressive driving, nor take any unnecessary routes.
thank you." -Heather Millstone

Heathers
506 E. 13th St.
New York, NY 10009
212-254-0979
www.heathersbar.com
www.twitter.com/heathersbar

"Hi Gil. Thanks again for today’s great taxi ride. I use NYC Taxis approx 25 times per month and you’re in the top 5 cabbies! Keep up the great work." -Mark J. Liebman

"My buddies had just moved to Brooklyn. We took a cab up to Manhattan to go check out the city. Gil was our cabbie that night. He safely and swiftly gave us a history lesson and quick tour during our journey. He was by far one of the most knowledgeable, safe, and friendly cab drivers I have encountered. I'm from Chicago, and if this is a testament to all New York cabbies, I would seriously considered moving to New York. Just lower the rent."
Dennis Episcopo
Chicago Public School Teacher

"Gil, I just wanted to thank you for a pleasant taxi ride today. Good luck." -Stephen Pineault

ALSO MY PARTNER MADE A VERY GOOD POINT THE OTHER DAY. ONE THAT I'VE SUSPECTED ALL ALONG: "I think a lot of cases like these are coming to court because the city needs the revenue generated by kicking drivers out of the system. This way more people can become drivers (and pay to do so, especially with work options so sparse.) The revoked drivers who wait and re-enter the system also have to pay for their licenses anew." -Jenine Bressner

AND MY FRIEND & FELLOW BLOGGER/CABDRIVER HAD THIS TO SAY:
"It's like a twisted sick video game. I really do believe that they don't know the harm they are doing. positioning themselves in predictable locations and giving predictable tickets. the real criminals will continue to get away with scams and recklessness" -Noah F.