Eugene Salomon - Confessions of a New York Taxi Driver

Eugene Salomon

There are certain rides in which the rapport between passenger and driver is so great that the only way to bring the conversation to a proper conclusion is a handshake. I dedicate this book to every passenger who ever shook my hand at the end of the ride. Except the drunks. That doesn’t count.

And to Harry Gongola, Doctor of Chiropractic, former NYC taxi driver and my very first passenger.

Dedication Dedication Contents Dedication Introduction: A Conversation With the Human Race 1 The Wildest Ride 2 Big City Crime 3 Changes 4 Celebrities 5 Extreme behavior 6 Fare Beaters 7 Means of Exchange 8 Hustlers, Hustlers, Hustlers 9 Pedestrians 10 Road Rage 11 Karma versus Coincidence 12 The Animals of Manhattan 13 In a Rush 14 The Traffic Jam Hall of Fame 15 Solids, Liquids and Gases 16 ‘Taxi!’ 17 At Journey’s End Acknowledgments About the Author Copright There are certain rides in which the rapport between passenger and driver is so great that the only way to bring the conversation to a proper conclusion is a handshake. I dedicate this book to every passenger who ever shook my hand at the end of the ride. Except the drunks. That doesn’t count. And to Harry Gongola, Doctor of Chiropractic, former NYC taxi driver and my very first passenger.

Introduction: A Conversation With the Human Race INTRODUCTION A conversation with the human race A man jumped into my cab one night in April, 2008, at the corner of 5 th Avenue and 57 th Street. He was a forty-something businessman type, an Inquisitario (a passenger who asks a lot of questions) as it turned out, en route to Grand Central Station. I could see he was a bit disoriented as he settled into the back seat, but this is not unusual in New York. Certain things must be confronted by a passenger as he enters a yellow cab in this city. Things like: how much will this ride cost? Do I have enough cash or will I have to use a credit card? Hey, what in hell is the source of that odor? And, since English is usually a cabbie’s second language, does the driver actually understand a word I’m saying? So it took him a few moments before it dawned on him. Leaning forward in his seat, he studied me carefully. ‘Say,’ he blurted out, ‘you’re an… American !’ ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘but you know I charge extra for that.’ He ignored the joke. ‘You’re the first American driver I’ve had in… three years ! ’ ‘Better play the lottery tonight.’ ‘Really!’ I know how monkeys feel when people are staring at them in the zoo. There are indeed very few American taxi drivers in New York City. My passenger’s eyes moved from the back of my head to my hack license. ‘Eugene Salomon,’ he said, not realizing in his excitement that I already knew my own name. ‘That’s me.’ ‘Tell me something, Mr Salomon… how long have you been driving a cab?’ ‘You don’t have a heart condition or anything, do you?’ ‘No.’ ‘Well, then, I’ll tell you… I have been driving a cab since… (drum roll, please)… 1977 .’ There was a short pause as this information was processed, and then the expected response: ‘Oh my God!’ This is said in the same combination of horror and amazement people have when they see someone being hit by a car. I take it in my stride. ‘Wow,’ my passenger said, ‘you must have some stories!’ ‘Buddy,’ I say in a well-rehearsed reply, ‘I have more stories than the Empire State Building…’

1 The Wildest Ride 1 The Wildest Ride ‘What was the wildest ride you ever had?’ I have been asked this question so many times that you would think after all these years I would have a quick response to it. But I don’t. The problem is there have been so many. Was it the girl who rushed out of the cab seven times to puke? Or was it the guy who, without the slightest provocation, would just start screaming? Or the basket case who got out of the cab in the middle of the 59 th Street Bridge? Or the one who got out in the middle of the Williamsburg Bridge? Hmmmmmm… Maybe it was the poor guy who was mugged while sitting in the back seat. Or the perfectly nice couple going home to Brooklyn who found themselves sitting between two cops who commandeered the taxi into the middle of a crime scene. ‘Yeah,’ I think, ‘ that must have been the wildest’ – but then I remember the ride with the Mafia hit men – and I just can’t decide. So what I do is this. When people ask me for my wildest ride, I ask them for a little help. ‘What’s your definition of “wild”?’ I ask. This actually makes it more fun for me. It’s my contention that I have some kind of a story for any category they can think of. But I started to notice a pattern whenever I would ask this. First there is a pause. Then some giggling. And then, the BIG QUESTION: ‘Has anyone had – sex! – in your cab?’ Always ready with a quip, my reply is: ‘You mean tonight ?’ ‘No, no,’ they say with big smiles, ‘ever.’ Soooo… this is what’s on everybody’s mind (surprise, surprise!). Well, who am I to deny the public what they want? What I’m going to do is rename this chapter. Let’s call it…

2 Big City Crime 2 Big City Crime Well, I hope you’re happy. You wanted sleazy stories about sex in taxicabs and now you’ve gotten them – plus a nice, sentimental one I’ll bet you weren’t expecting. So now let’s get down to business and move along to another much-requested type of story: crime. ‘Have you ever been held up?’ is a question I am often asked by passengers. After all, driving a taxi in New York City is a job that’s more dangerous than being a cop and unfortunately we do often hear stories about taxi drivers who are victims of crimes. My answer to that question, which is, happily, ‘No’, seems to do little to cancel out the lingering suspicion in the minds of some that New York is an unsafe place. But this sense of unease is not really based on actuality. Statistically speaking, New York is one of the safest cities in the United States. What’s bothering these people, I believe, is the perception of the possibility of crime. With so many iffy-looking people walking around, so many dark, deserted streets, and a media that heightens our fears with an insatiable appetite for crime, crime, CRIME!, we may lose sight of the fact that, generally speaking, people are getting along quite well with one another. But not always…

3 Changes

4 Celebrities

5 Extreme behavior

6 Fare Beaters

7 Means of Exchange

8 Hustlers, Hustlers, Hustlers

9 Pedestrians

10 Road Rage

11 Karma versus Coincidence

12 The Animals of Manhattan

13 In a Rush

14 The Traffic Jam Hall of Fame

15 Solids, Liquids and Gases

16 ‘Taxi!’

17 At Journey’s End

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Copright

A man jumped into my cab one night in April, 2008, at the corner of 5 thAvenue and 57 thStreet. He was a forty-something businessman type, an Inquisitario (a passenger who asks a lot of questions) as it turned out, en route to Grand Central Station.

I could see he was a bit disoriented as he settled into the back seat, but this is not unusual in New York. Certain things must be confronted by a passenger as he enters a yellow cab in this city. Things like: how much will this ride cost? Do I have enough cash or will I have to use a credit card? Hey, what in hell is the source of that odor? And, since English is usually a cabbie’s second language, does the driver actually understand a word I’m saying?