05.11.06
A VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER
Maybe my dispatcher Cha Cha is right: I’m too nice to drive the night shift. You’ve got to be a little hard-hearted to drive a cab at night. There is a lot of misery on the streets, but I’m not out there to do community service. Ideally, I’m making money. And to make money, I can’t be giving away free rides.
Twice before last night, I did give away free rides. One was to a kid, a few years younger than me, who hailed me at the foot of the Williamsburg Bridge. He told me right off the bat that he didn’t have a dime, but it was freezing and he just had to cross the bridge. I’ve walked across bridges in the the bitter cold before, and I was empty anyway, so I figured it would be a mitzvah. The second free ride, speaking of mitzvahs, I gave to a couple of Haitian nuns who hailed me in Washington Heights on another particularly cold day. They too informed me that they had no money, and only needed short ride. They actually had just walked across the George Washington Bridge (I didn’t know there was a pedestrian lane on that bridge, but who am I to question Haitian nuns). I was glad to drive them down through Washington Heights and Harlem, because I rarely get hailed in those neighborhoods anyway, and when I have been hailed, I generally end up wishing I hadn’t stopped.
Last night I saw something that broke my heart, though I guess I’m a softy anyway. I should tell you, there is something going on at North 4th Street and Driggs in Brooklyn. Every time I pass, for years now, I see a lone, gnarly-looking female eyeing the passing cars. She is usually in her 30s or 40s, dressed not exactly like a hooker, but never bundled up no matter what the weather. There is always one, and she is always really sketchy, but she never hails cabs.
Last night, she hailed me. Actually she hailed each of the three cabs in front of me, each of which slowed down to take a look and then peeled out. When I slowed down, I saw she was nothing to be afraid of. She just looked scared.
When she got in, the first thing she said was, “I only have 13 cents on me. That’s it.” This is the point at which a real New York cabbie would tell her to get out very loudly, maybe showering her with curses in his native tongue, probably gesticulating wildly. But I don’t have the heart. Plus I noticed in my rearview that her nose and lip were bleeding, and she was shaking.
“I gotta to get to Jackson Heights,” she said. At that point I did consider kicking her out, because it would take an hour to get to Jackson Heights and back to the city. But I’ve always said that I believe in karma, so we took off.
During the ride, I tried to see if she would tell me what it is that is going on at that corner every night, but she didn’t understand what I was asking her. She was a native English-speaker, but she was very slow, possibly retarded. She told me her brother had dropped her off there, but she wouldn’t tell me why. He was supposed to come back and get her, but he hadn’t, and she didn’t know why. She’d been waiting for five hours. Then “some guys” came by and beat her up for no reason.
I didn’t care if her story checked out. All she wanted to do was get back to her dad who she lived with in VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER underneath the 59th Street Bridge. But today, as was sometimes the case, he was parked up near Roosevelt Avenue in Jackson Heights.
When we got there, sure enough, I saw an old van parked just off the avenue. She thanked me profusely, and started to get out. I can’t say I’m proud, but I told her, “That’ll be 13 cents please.” Her face froze, and she started reaching for her pocket. I think the joke went over her head.
Before she got the change (which she really did have; I heard it jingling) I apologized for messing with her, and asked, “What is there to eat around here?” figuring if anyone knows where the inexpensive food is, it would be her. She told me, “I eat hot dogs and spaghettiOs.” I did’t know if she was offering me some, and we had an awkward moment before I asked, “No, I mean, is there anything cheap to eat in this neighborhood?”
(Ever wonder where homeless people eat out?)
She directed me to Tacolandia on the next block. She told me they have $2 tacos and a fixin’ bar you do yourself. She said she loads up on radishes.
I figured, as long I was out there, I might as well give it a whirl. I bought two, one pollo and one chorizo, and I put a ton of radishes on one of them. I can’t say they were as good as anything you could find in a taco truck in East L.A. (I certainly can’t say the ton of radishes was good), but they were tasty. They tasted pretty much how I imagined a $2 taco in Jackson Heights would taste. But I’m still waiting for the karmic payoff from this latest mitzvah. I’m hoping that will be very sweet.
Tacolandia, 77-04 Roosevelt Avenue, Jackson Heights, Queens
Check out www.famousfatdave.com for a chuckle or to book an eating tour on which we don’t have to load up on radishes at Tacolandia
