Hack

9781400066049

1400066042

CHAPTER 1 Iwas an hour into my shift when I picked them up. Two guys in their early twenties got in at Canal and Broadway wanting to go to the tow pound in Brooklyn Heights to pick up their car. It was 5:00 P.M. and I knew trafFic would be bad, but I didn't really have a choice. When they agged me down, one of them held the back door open as he waited for the other to get a slice of pizza in the store. I started the meter but was already annoyed. It's a shitty way to begin any ride when they hold you hostage like that. It was only when they got settled in the backseat that I realized they had been drinking. They were loopy and happy, but maybe a little too relaxed. "Holy shit, look! It's a chick!" "What?" the other one answered. "Look! Our cab driver's a woman!" "Oh, weird." They both gaped at me for a second, absorbing. Then, "Hey, can we smoke pot in here?" I said no. "Can we smoke a cigarette in here?" Again, no. I've never really understood why people want to smoke cigarettes so badly when they're in a cab. It's not like they're gonna be in there forhoursor anything. Most likely they'll be in the cab for about ten minutes, maybe a half hour if there's trafFic. And at the end of the ride they'll be able to smoke. In the cab, however, it's illegal. Not like I'm some stickler for the law or anything, but I'm not gonna risk a $200 ticket, plus points on my license, for some shithead who can't stall his impulses until he gets out of my cab. The only reason to let people smoke is because you hope they'll show their appreciation by giving a bigger tip. But the few times I've allowed it, it just wasn't worth it. So what? They gave me an extra two dollars? Big deal. It totally didn't make up for the stress I experienced the entire time they were smoking. Plus, the smell lingers in the back, and when you get upper-crust antismoking Park Avenue types back there after that, you're screwed. They get upset and pretend to cough, and leave an even shittier tip than the shitty tip they'd already planned on leaving. It's just not worth it. Of course,Ismoke in the cab. But only under special circumstances. Like when I'm alone on my way back from far out in the boroughs or something, and I know the NYPD and the Taxi and Limousine Commission (TLC) cops won't see me, nor will they give a shit if they do. They really only care about stuff like that in Manhattan. And my reasoning is, since I'm stuck in the cab for twelve hours a night, I'm entitled to a smoke every now and then. Anyway, we were sitting in trafFic on the Brooklyn Bridge, and I heard that signature sound of beer cans cracking open. I called back to them, "Are you guys drinking beer back there?" A guilty "No" reached my ears. "No, seriously, are you? I heard the cans open and if you spill anything, you'll be putting me out of business for the night. And if the cops see us, I'll get a huge ticket. Please, just don't spill it, okay?" At that point, it was the most I could ask for since I couldn't really kick them out on the Brooklyn Bridge. Actually, I probably could've if I really wanted to. Paul the crazy Romanian dispatcher once told me a story about kicking a passenger out on the side of the Long Island Expressway. They were on their way to JFK airport and the passenger got mad because there was trafFic, so he did what