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Blogs by Ronald Dondiego
Taxi Cab Confessions: New York City 11/18/2005 10:56:08 AM
Breast Feeding It happened towards the end of my shift. It was a strange night, hot and humid, rainwater had blackened the streets, colors running through gutter streams into filthy sewers that stunk of debris and human excrement.
I had dropped an East Indian Nanny off on Parkside Avenue in Brooklyn. I was turning onto Flatbush Avenue when I spotted her. She looked exotic, possibly middle eastern. Her skin was soft, dark, her body voluptuous, her eyes shone dark and sultry. So I stopped for her.
She said, "I am going down Prospect Park West to 9th street. Can you take me?"
"Sure," I said as I pressed my index finger on the button of the meter for the red digits to appear.
"Oh, $2.50 to start? That's a lot of money," she said.
"You can take that up with the city. I only drive."
"You sound bitter," she said.
"Not exactly. I just had a long night."
I swung a U-turn on Flatbush and headed back towards the circle of Grand Army Plaza. The statues of troops atop the arch in the center of the Plaza were still slick with rain, white pegeon dung had streaked their heads and upper torsos. It was the same everywhere in the city, the pigeons had gotten to most of the statues of great New Yorkers. All, except for Cornelius Vanderbilt. The Vandies had probably paid for his perpetual upkeep. George M. Cohan of Times Square should have been so lucky.
But let me not digress too much from my narrative.
The lady in question started to change her tone of voice when I turned onto Prospect Park West. She started to plead.
"Sir, maybe you could pull over... I have no money."
I did not hesitate. I pulled ouver into an empty space under the shadows of the tree lined park.
"What's the problem?"
"I have had children out of wedlock. I am a Muslim woman. I am an outcast. I must feed my children."
I was in a foul mood, not very much interested in this midnight confession of self pity and guilt.
"I think you should leave my cab," I said, knowing well how difficult it is to get certain passengers out of my cab in a dignified manner.
"I need money and I'm willing to have sex with you."
"I don't know if I believe your story."
"It is true.. You should believe me."
"Even if I did believe you... That doesn't mean I'm going to have sex with you."
"Why not? Am I not attractive?"
"Look, I'm tired. I just want to get back to the city. Understand?"
"My children are hungry... I have just given birth," she persisted. "Look... Perhaps you have never tasted the milk of a woman's breast."
"That's right," I replied. "I was a formula baby and I'm not switching."
What happened next really shocked my mind.
The woman rolled up her blouse and revealed her breasts. Then she took one of her breasts in her hand and squirted a thin strand of milk onto the backside of my partition.
I was aghast as I witnessed this unseemly act of decadence and desperation. So I yelled defiantly, "This is sick! Get the hell out of my taxi."
The woman just looked at me with her eyes enraged and ablaze with wrath. Then she muttered a few expletives and made her exit, slamming the rear door after her.
I took off... Burning rubber.. Tires screeching over the slick, black asphalt.
"Not me. Not me," I said to myself. "Not in a thousand years would I suck the milk out of that cold witche's tit!"
