Andre Mitchell

I was having a nice night with fun passengers including the mother and her nine-year-old son from Boston, and then the pleasant surprise of seeing Andre Mitchell in Hell’s Kitchen, which put my night over the top.  I triked Andre to his destination, and we had a bodega soft drink together including time for Andre and my wife to talk on the phone.  Andre and my wife met while employed at Purdy Girl, which was the business of Corinne Purdy that has three women’s clothing boutiques in Manhattan, New York.  The business seemed to be on the brink of failure each day of the decade plus it’s been in business, and yet Corinne manages to keep it going, which is a mystery that caused Andre to comment, and a thought I had again and again when my wife worked for Corinne.  Andre was my favorite passenger tonight.  I saw the Naked Cowboy in Times Square for the first time after his Winter Break.   The Nicks beat Boston tonight, and my favorite passengers were from Boston, but their visit and the game was a coincidence.  A mom, dad, and five and a half year old were together in my cab.  The cute kid makes it easy to say he was my favorite, but each of the three were tied.  The mom was as excited about the possibility of seeing Billy Joel as I was, but my inquiry found the wait would be too long, so we passed together.  The dad was a nice guy, good dad, and successful and humble entrepreneur.  He also knew about Frederick Law Olmsted’s work in Boston and NYC.  I make a big deal about the matching antennas on the Bank of America building and another building on the same block, and the mom’s pleasure was the high-to-date.  This family was getting the most from NYC, and I was glad to be part of it.  With an overflowing post game MSG, Madison Square Garden, Manhattan, New York, a woman and her man slipped into the first cab and bypassed the line, but the next up man would not let the door on the cab close.  With a gender difference, an age difference and about one hundred and fifty pounds I was sure the door would not be released, but it took what seemed like forever for the two to surrender and leave the back seat.  The woman bitched as if she was the victim, and she had to shame herself to all the people she disrespected.  The cab driver and the attendant passively made it clear they would do nothing to resolve the conflict, and since I am engaging in tense exchanges nightly, it was nice to be a spectator.  Although justice won, there was no remorse or lesson taught, and everyone paid with an additional delay.  From my experience the people in the MSG line on Eighth Avenue or Seventh Avenue fall victim to the fence that marks the line.  They step into the fence area, and each of them give up control over what happens around them.  It may be me who tries to poke and prod them into my cab, or the woman who disrespects them.  They were victims, but each person in the fence line surrendered some rights, so the man holding the door was at fault.  Later, on the other side of MSG a man said to me, “leave me alone”, and my reply, “that would be impossible, you are in a crow” to which he lost control, insulted me with obscenities, and blasted something about leaving his dying mother in Long Island — ouch.  Destinations were boring tonight including an Indian woman home to Avenue B and 2nd Street, Nichol to Soho Psychic where she works, some Trader Joe shoppers home to Bryant Park, and the Parisian woman and her American friend went to Burger Kind near PABT.  Tomorrow I am skipping Central Park, because I have so little to show for it even with a few days of warm weather.  John, a fellow pedicaber, said, “that’s why you’re always full” when he heard what I charge.  I was too late for Kikos Liquors.  I like Budweiser better than Coke.

About Tom Doody

middle-age American living in New Jersey near the Lincoln Tunnel
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s