Cabbie Chronicles

06 Nov Cabbie Chronicles

You guise.

I think I may have officially earned one of my first New York stripes. I can apply lipstick in a moving cab (that I flagged myself, like a BOSS). And now that I no longer have to hold on for dear life when riding in one, I can focus on other things. Like, forced conversations with my cab drivers.

There was one who actually handed me his iPhone through the partition to show me his African girlfriend who was in medical school. Who told me he knew all about “brown” hair–he was Moroccan–and the Moroccan oil craze. That right after he finishing building his home in his country, he was going to open a hair store.

Another who asked me if I believed in ghosts. Who wasn’t okay with silence at 8 a.m. in the morning and asked me to work with him, while he probed me with questions for the sake of conversation.

Then there was the older gentleman who made me a little home sick as he blasted The Temptations and The O’Jays because he hated that automated voice on the screen in front of me. I knew that he was getting ready to talk when he would lower the volume and shout back to me telling me things like he’s driven Anna Wintour, she talked, he thought she was nice, and Andre Leon Talley, who tried to set him up with his sister.

The not-so-sly driver who dropped me off in Williamsburg right before I may or may not have gotten a tattoo but after these pictures were taken who opened my car door from inside the cab, kept sneaking peeks at me in the rearview mirror, only to ask me if I was 16 right before he pulled away from the curb.

Sir. Really?

My favorite, though, was the gentleman who deemed it appropriate to pay his Time Warner bill by speaker phone. Right after I rolled my eyes, he ended his conversation, sighing, “Bills.” I nodded knowingly, but again it was really early, and I don’t need a lot of talk in the morning. But then he started saying that in America, the happiest people had to be the homeless because they didn’t have bills. A joke that lead to a very serious conversation.

“Having faith is a lot like looking below the ocean,” he started. “Think of the ocean, you can understand what you see, but what you don’t understand is what’s happening underneath. And it isn’t your business… There is this saying in the Holy Quran…”

And just like that… another one of God’s signs. There is no need to worry about what I can’t see. Just do what I can and know that it all works for the greater good. You see my cabbie kicking knowledge to me?!

Times like this remind me that taking a cab, when my metro card is fully functioning, is a treat.

p.s. I may or may not be flexing to show off the bandages under my sweatshirt of my new thug tat. Kidding–not really, though.