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Blogs by Ronald Dondiego
Confessions Of A Taxi Driver 11/9/2005 9:48:58 AM
Human Relations In the office the guys kept kidding me. So we exchanged friendly banter about sex, love, and, of course, our strange stories of the night before. I think I had the best one. It was so unusual that it could have taken place in the late eighties or the early nineties of the last century.
It wasn't too late, possibly 11:30 p.m. when I turned onto Lafayette Street on the Cooper Square side. That particular street is usually void of people, except for a few stragglers. And a cabby like me who's trying to get back into the action of Park Avenue South.
However, last night there were two people on Lafayette Street, I told my co-workers. One was a male, short, about five six, dressed in a black blazer. The other was a woman.
The man jumped in the backseat and said, "Quick, drive, there's a crazy woman after me."
I craned my neck to look him in the face, my eyes asking the unspoken question, are you for real? Then when I looked ahead I saw that the woman was standing in front of my cab. She said, "That's right. I am crazy and you stole my money."
I looked at the man again. He seemed nervous, very nervous. The woman wouldn't budge either, so I stood my ground. No sense running over a stranger for a would be passenger. Besides, who could tell, he might have been just as crazy as her. So I turned my head towards him and told him that he had to leave. He quickly exited the cab and started to quickly walk away with the agitated woman dogging his heels, screaming "You stole my money!"
Lately, there seems to be a glut of maniacs on the streets of the city. I only wonder how they all manage to find me. I must have a sign on the side of my cab that reads, MANIACS AND INSANE PEOPLE WANTED AS PASSENGERS. VIPS ALSO WELCOME.
