Cablog

Feelin' lucky..?

Here's confirmation cabbies have the inside running on making personal contacts. Reader Reg has sent this link concerning Ahmed Ibrahim, a 50 year old New York cabbie of Egyptian descent. Raine runs a casual dating service for his passengers. And very successful he is too, having matched many single passengers with each other,

"New York is a very tough city for dating," Ibrahim mused while driving through the West Village recently. "I have heard a lot of crying in this cab, a lot of fighting and a lot of broken hearts. Sometimes great people were just missing each other by minutes; one would get in my cab just as another had gotten out," he said.

So using their phone numbers Ahmed arranges a blind date. Too easy. Only in America.

Hoons banned

Here's a deserted Hickson Road at Walsh Bay, outside the Sydney Theatre Company at 1.30 this morning. Usually the joint is packed with hundreds of hoon-mobiles which descend on the City every Saturday night for a Lap of the Main. Most vehicles are souped-up or supercharged Asian eggbeaters. Generally they are driven by descendants of Asian, Persian or Mediterranean immigrants.

Last night however, the police blocked both ends of Hickson Road, restricting entry to residents only. I delivered a female resident home to Walsh Bay who recounted feeling heavily intimidated by this crew in her neighbourhood.

And last Saturday night I ferried a photographer up and down Hickson Road for some shots. Whilst he also felt intimidated by the large groups of hyped up young adult males, he made the point as a local New Yorker, one lived downtown in large cities fully aware ones neighbourhood can sometimes be subjected to unwanted visitors. That's life, he said.

I wonder though, what legislation would the police be relying upon last night to close a public road to non-residents ? Do the NIMBY's of recently gentrified Walsh Bay have that much power ?

Sad chameleons

One night becomes another in this game, often distinguishable only by what was on the radio. Therefore I can safely say the following two fares are from last Wednesday night, as Leyton Hewitt was playing David Nalbandian at the time.

Early in this match just after 9pm, the first fare occurred down on Eddy Avenue at Central Station. A woman, no a girl, attempted to step in front of the cab as I approached in fast moving traffic. Somehow I stopped for her to safely climb in the back. On scolding her for the risky behaviour she replied, ‘Yeah I’m sorry but I’m really late for work - Kings Cross please’...

The Ultimate Taxi

Umm...believe it or not this guy is at the wheel of his cab, The Ultimate Taxi, operated by one Jon Barnes of Aspen, Colorado.

The vehicle has WAP, web cams, disco, drums, recording studio, lazer show. It's unbelievable !

I don't know what to say 'cept check it out - the video clips, the set-up, the passenger pics, the animation, fan mail-go for a spin with Jon.

Lessons in lucky

I often wonder why I do this friggin’ job, lousy as it is. On dropping the cab off after an indifferent Friday night I was about as shitty as can be. Scammed out of a fare on the very last job. Then on gassing-up being greeted by an overnight price rise from 39.9 cents per litre to 49.9 cents. However within the time it takes to start my car and warm it up, I was feeling on top of the world again.

Early in the evening I was hailed by a silver crutch, on Elizabeth Street down at Central Railway. Hanging to its end was a one-legged fella balancing precariously on a second crutch. In attempting to attract my attention he swayed violently, threatening to topple off the footpath and into oncoming traffic. Such was his problem of finding a cab on a Friday night.

From a distance I wondered if he was a drunken hobo for this locality was a favourite haunt for drifters. Down under Sharpies famous neon golf sign, outside the tattoo parlour. Grim Street. I stopped, with traffic on my tail. Clambering in the front seat he cursed viciously on entangling the crutch poles with a grocery bag...

More bloody 'girt'.

Yes Happy Australia Day, it's great to be an Aussie, blah blah blah. Once again we're reminded how bloody awful is our national anthem. A suggestion to republicans - first get the national anthem changed before agitating for a full republic. Baby steps. Now, who should be invited to pen a decent anthem...

UPDATE : This post was originally a moblog from Darling Harbour. But the image was lousy. Sorry, but the light and position was all wrong due to the demands of a fast moving cab rank. So I've replaced it with a slightly less lousy image. To see how lousy, click on image.

Different girls

Last week on twilight, a girl stood outside a convenience store on Elizabeth Street, clutching a plastic bag. Pulling over I judged this diminutive Asian, dressed in fake designer track-suit and thongs, just a girl. Yet in choosing the front seat it suggested she was comfortable in the presence of strange men. Such as cabbies !

I studied her carefully as she nominated Cleveland Street in Chippendale, after first stumbling in broken English over the pronunciation. In doing so her impassive face broke into a short girlish giggle, with an apologetic hand to the mouth before resuming her placid demeanor.

She was beautiful with ornate porcelain skin, yet very young and no more than a teenager. Plus very tired as she languidly rubbed sleep from her eyes, effecting a dreamy, drugged look. Men are suckers for that sort of seductive mannerism.

New York cabbies

Sydney cabbies have it good. Here we're provided all services, even down to the dunny. However in New York, they can barely get a cup of lousy coffee. Slatts sends a article by Steve Dunleavy, an ex Sydney hack. As in journalist hack, not a cabbie hack. Dunleavy reports on an initiative in New York City which has the simple act of providing cabbies with coffee and a dunny making news,

Joe Lanza, a cabby for 30 years, was sipping coffee and getting nostalgic. "Remember those old Checker cabs? They were like condominiums," the Brooklyn native was saying. "Smoke a cigar? No problem. Smoke a cigar today in a taxi and you'll get 20 to life"... "We are the Rodney Dangerfields of New York, we get no respect".

We hear you Joe...come on down. (images enlarge)

Silly girls

Early this morning I found myself in Eastwood, Darp country. On suddenly realising this I quickly wound up the windows, locked the doors and covered the emergency button. Without warning one can easily have a ratbag leftie mullet, with a hulking coconut bodyguard jump in front of the cab and scream, ‘You ! Fascist ! Pull over !’. As a small ‘f’ fascist, I figured one can’t be too careful in these badlands.

Shortly thereafter I spotted a girl, ambling along Victoria Road in Ryde. She looked pissed. What an idiot, I thought. As I pulled up she turned around, then walked over to hop in the front seat. ‘Thank you’, she said. ‘Mate’, what are you doing walking by yourself at one o’clock in the morning ?’, I demanded. ‘I couldn’t find a cab heading this way’, she replied, ‘They were all heading back to the City’. This is usual on a Friday and Saturday night when cabs are scarce.

‘It doesn’t matter’, I scolded her, ‘You should cross the road and hail one. If their Vacant light is on the law says they must take you’. ‘Oh, I didn’t know that’, she said. ‘There’s carloads of arseholes everywhere at this time of morning’, I continued, trying to scare some sense into her, ‘and it’s really dangerous’. ‘Yeah’, she responded, ‘a couple of times some weird guys stopped and offered to drive me home’. I rest my case.

Furthermore, I’ve given up on warning girls travelling alone, about sitting up front in taxis late at night. I used to say to them, ‘Didn’t your mother tell you to never sit up front in taxis ?’. And often they would just look at me blankly and say, ‘So..’.

Unfortunately, predatory behaviour is everywhere in this world and sadly, too many young women just don’t get it.

UPDATE : I've just realised the possible imputation Darp and/or his bodyguard is a 'silly girl'. Wrong. These guys are real men, doing the right thing and havin' a go. The only requirement to be an Aussie.

Urgent

Attention : Travis B. Can you get in touch mate - I have a job for you. Cheers, A.