The Taxi Drive

As I entered the cab I noticed something peculiar about the driver. He looked, smelt, and smiled like a million dollars, but there was less about him in how he acted. The way his eyes darted nervously about, the manner in which sweat dripped from his hands, the tremor in his voice all spoke for a man that was hiding beneath the one I initially saw.

“Where to sir?”

“Sixty-eighth and Broadway please.”

“Right.”

The vehicle smoothly rolled away and I leaned back and made myself comfortable. Out of nowhere it started to rain heavily and the driver turned on his windshield wipers in response. Slowly the frequency of the drops increased and he turned on blades at full speed. But ultimately the rain was so heavy that even with the frantic jerking motions of the wipers we could barely see the street ahead.

“Sir, are you in any sort of rush? Because for safety’s sake I would like to travel a bit slower.”

“No, go ahead. I’m in no hurry to get out into this rain.”

After a handful of synthetic chuckles, a second silence draped over the cab. The driver drove along at what seemed like a snail’s pace, collecting angry honks from the cars behind. At the rate he was traveling at, one would think that some great impending doom awaited them at the destination. He approached traffic lights with the utmost apprehension and stopped immediately at yellows. Me being a moderately patient man, I folded my fingers and looked out the window out of boredom, watching the tall buildings pass by the glass. Then I focused on the cab fare: going up in integrals of five cents: $35.05, $35.10, $35.15…

When suddenly the driver immediately halted the cab and slapped the clear button on the fare counter.

“That will be $40.25, sir,” the driver quickly injected.

“Excuse me?”

“Your fare will be $40.25.”

“I’m sorry but you must be mistaken, my fare was $35.15. I was watching the counter just now.”

“I’m almost certain it was $40.25, sir.”

“Well I am completely certain it was $35.15, sir.”

“Please don’t use that tone of voice sir; I’m just stating that your fare is $40.25.”

“I’ll use whatever tone I want to with you, ok? I’m not too fond of being ripped off by cabbies or by anyone by that manor.”

“Just pay the fee.”

“No.”

“It’s just a fee.”

“I’m going to call the police.”

The driver began to breathe deeply and his face turned a bright red. “For God’s sake it’s only a $5 difference… just give me the money.”

“No.”

He voice raised and tears began to stream down his face, “I need the money God Damn it, can’t you just give me a break? Its five dollars for Christ’s sake! I need it, my wife needs it, my kids and my fucking dog needs it! My pride needs it…” By now the man I had seen on entering the cab had completely vanished, and a sad, broken and desperate man stared at me with red eyes. Still sitting in the front seat his upper torso was twisted around almost 180 degrees to face me in the back seat.

I stared at him silently as he sobbed. I didn’t how to react.

“You know what my dad’s job was?” he choked, “he was a wealthy man, he owned a fleet of yachts in Oyster Bay. But look at me now… I’m driving a broken down taxi in NYC barely struggling to get by. He would spit at me if he saw me now.” He finally stopped crying and rotated around to face the windshield. “Who the hell respects a taxi driver? I’ll tell you who: nobody. I ain’t worth shit.”

I hadn’t any words for the pitiful creature. I wanted to say something to comfort him, but it seemed wrong to say anything at the time. Looking into my wallet, I pulled out a 50 and placed it on the passenger seat and walked out into the rain.