April 7, 2004
Taxi drivers provide wild rides
By
Herald Editor
Sometimes you are along for the ride or taken for one. The rides of a lifetime, however, usual involve a running meter.
To quote the wit of Howard Ogden, "cab drivers are living proof that practice does not make perfect." New York taxi drivers put those words into practice every day.
Taking our first nibble of the Big Apple, my wife and I recently spent a whirlwind Sunday in New York City. I hate to say it, but for a city that never sleeps, N.Y.C was a bit of a yawn. The work day mass of humanity must have been home watching "Sex in the City" reruns.
In all honesty, even the subway paled in comparison to my delusions of cinematic grandeur. Not one Popeye Doyle chase scene. Sadly, we were the strangest characters riding the rails.
However, one New York icon lived up to its reputation - the cab ride.
Hailing a taxi at LaGuardia Airport, we rode with our friend Kevin to his hovel in Jackson Heights. Our first nine minutes in New York were a blur - that happens when you're going Mach I in a 40 mph zone. It was quite evident that Mario Andretti Jr. was paid by the mile not the minute. He didn't say two words (although "hang" and "on" would have been nice) but his driving spoke volumes. Rolling stops, jack rabbit starts, sudden lane changes - then we pulled out of the airport parking lot.
My wife hadn't squeezed my hand that hard since child birth.
Although our stay in New York City was shorter than George Steinbrenner's temper, three memorable cab rides awaited us. Strange as it sounds, we had to travel 72 miles to find them.
Visiting the Big Apple was a pleasure, but time spent in Middletown, N.Y. was strictly business - at least for me. So while my farcical Windsor knot and I attended a newspaper seminar, my wife relaxed at the hotel. She was perfectly content to read a book without Elmo as the protagonist. Two chapters later she abandoned cerebral pursuits for a cab ride to the mall.
Unfortunately, instead of a simple four mile jaunt down the road, she got Ed.
Pulling up to the hotel in a taxi cab/demolition derby Caprice Classic, Ed announced his arrival with a two-hand horn honk. "Why don't you sit up front with me honey?," said Ed, displaying a grin that exposed his lack of bicuspids. "I've got three more fares to pick up."
My wife thought about waiting for the next cab, then realized in Middletown, N.Y. Ed was probably the first and last choice. Instead, she buckled herself in for a wild ride. Ed roared off, leaving a contrail of Metallica and Marlboro in his wake.
"Is there another cab company in town?" inquired my wife, after Ed left a fare who refused to ride with her baby sans carseat.
"Yeah, there's another one, but we're the best," said Ed, flicking cigarette ashes on the front seat.
"I would hate to see the other guys," replied my wife, her finger poised on the cellphone 911 speed dial button. Ed was still chuckling as he dropped off my wife at the mall; although I don't think he found the $1 tip humorous.
Later that night, we decided to catch a movie not starring Elmo. I called the same Uncle Buck cab service, however, Ed must have been insulting people on the other side of town, so we rode with No Name. We didn't speak with No Name, he was too busy chatting up the fare in the front seat. Right after she mentioned her boyfriend and a 12 year prison stint, the front fare said something interesting.
"I won't let my 14 year old go to the mall anymore, it's too rough," she noted, as No Name pulled into said mall parking lot.
"Yeah, the other night some guy got shot in the face out in the parking lot," said No Name, who probably has a day job with the Middletown Chamber of Commerce.
My wife hadn't squeezed my hand that hard since 83rd and Northern Boulevard.
After surviving the 7:15 p.m. movie (the flesh-eating mall zombies don't show up until after 11 o'clock) we called for a cab. I fully expected our next taxi driver to be Robert De Niro sporting a mohawk. Instead, we rode back to the hotel with Ms. Id, who provided stream-of-consciousness commentary on her cab company.
"Ever since the dispatcher got caught stealing money, it's been a real mess. His wife is still working the phones, but she might have been in on it," said Ms. Id, who doubles as the Uncle Buck Cab Company public relations firm.
Certainly Ogden would have agreed that our cabbie experiences were perfectly awful and awfully perfect.
Truth be told, the next time I'm in New York I'll still hail a taxi. After all, life isn't always about the destination, but the journey - even with an Ed behind the wheel.
Grand Traverse Herald editor Garret Leiva can be reached at 933-1416 or e-mail gleiva@gtherald.com