My Cabbie Doesn’t Wanna Talk
November 17th, 2005
WFME is abroad, baby!
Having arrived yesterday in the city they call “De Los York Nueva” (that’s in Spanish, I think) for a variety of book related meetings (many which will take place in bars) — I had the extremely awesome opportunity of taking a cab ride from JFK to Manhattan with a cab driver who had no interest in talking whatsoever.
Sure, I know he probably spends all day long driving people all over the place, but when you’ve got a passenger who desperately wants to talk to you why must you ignore him?
At first, I simply tried to make pleasant conversation with him, as I am one of those folks who can’t stand those awkward moments of silence. This of course, has been previously discussed in regards to my hair sylist. Nevertheless, a conversation with a stranger (in this case, my cab driver Muhammad) can always begin with the trademark “weather” question, and go from there.
So I did.
Me: “Rain, huh?”
Muhammad: “Yah.”
Me: “Cold, too.”
Muhammad: “Mmm hmm.”
Muhammad was a tough one. Not wanting to budge. Not wanting to discuss the weather. I decided to move onto some pop culture events currently going on in the world.
Me: “Heard about that movie Brokeback Mountain? They say it’s gonna do really well at the Oscars.”
Muhammad: “No.”
Me: “Yeah, it’s about a bunch of gay cowboys.”
This time, Muhammad had enough energy to swing his head around and look at me with this startled look.
Me: “You know it… Gay coybows.”
About that time, Muhammad swerved to miss a car or a huge divider in the road — it was raining hard so I couldn’t quite tell. But this would not buy my silence. I decided to start asking him random questions just for the hell of it.
Me: “Do you like cheese, Muhammad?”
Muhammad: “Cheese?”
Me: “Yeah. Muenster? Colby-Jack? Jalapeno Cheddar? Or are you one of those American Cheese guys?”
There was a long pause. And then-
Muhammad: “I am NOT American.”
He said it with such passionate subdued anger that it struck a chord inside of me and I decided that it was best to keep my mouth shut for the rest of the ride. I mean, he had my life in my hands.
Who was I to talk?
maybe he was annoyed because your gigantic head was blocking his view out the back window.
welcome to NY!
Comment by kristine — November 17, 2005 @ 7:49 am
So, do you think this exchange was less awkward than a moment of silence?
Comment by Pierce — November 17, 2005 @ 8:14 am
Some passengers don’t need any encouragement at all to just start blabbing away. I had one guy that I took to the airport (40 minutes) and he went on and on about his problems without even looking for a response from me.
When we reached his destination, I told him how much his fare was and he looked aghast when he said, “Oh my God! You’re female!”
He tipped pretty good and believe me, I earned it!
Comment by nic — November 17, 2005 @ 8:29 am
Are you sure he actually understood what you were saying? After all, you don’t have an accent… it might have been hard for him to comprehend your words — he might’ve only been able to pick up on key words like “gay cowboys.”
Comment by Keith — November 17, 2005 @ 9:29 am
Gay cowboys effing ROCK.
When will the Arab world accept this?
Comment by Fabe — November 17, 2005 @ 10:01 am
It’s not just the Arabs, Fabe. 76% of the world’s population are not fans of gay cowboy flicks. Go figure.
As for my head blocking his view, Kristine, I don’t think it was an issue. My head ain’t that big. I think.
Comment by Pauly D — November 17, 2005 @ 10:09 am
next time, try discussing “Wallace & Grommit” movies. I once had a 45min discussion about ‘The Wrong Trousers’ with a West Indian cabbie in Chicago. The man really knew his Aardman.
Comment by Fabe — November 17, 2005 @ 10:18 am
Welcome to New York. He was exercising his right not to talk to you. You were being rude–he was not.
Comment by New Yorker — November 17, 2005 @ 10:32 am
Kristine’s comment made me burst out in laughter…
Comment by Melina — November 17, 2005 @ 10:45 am
you could get my taxi driver in vegas… i called my friend anal, and the cab driver went off on a 20 minute speil about how he wanted to hire a hooker… yeah you know where i am going with this…
Comment by Shawna — November 17, 2005 @ 10:53 am
How is it that you show up in NY and it starts pouring rain then the temperature drops from 70 to 45? Coincidence? I think not.
Comment by meme — November 17, 2005 @ 11:38 am
I thought that was sort of ironic, as well.
Comment by Pauly D — November 17, 2005 @ 11:39 am
Yeah, welcome to New York, where we only arrange for good weather if we know you’re coming.
Comment by Esther — November 17, 2005 @ 11:45 am
I think I rode in that cab before. I hate to make broadsweeping generalizations but the cabbies there are very unfriendly, in a serial killer kind of way. You would think they would be a bit nicer since there is usually a tip in it for them.
Comment by Debbie — November 17, 2005 @ 3:04 pm
Are you sure it just wasn’t just NY snobbism towards Angelenos?
Comment by Neil — November 17, 2005 @ 8:25 pm
Being from the rural midwest, my experience in cabs is limited. In fact, I’ve been in more cabs here than in America. In Holland, cabbies drive Mercedes and won’t shut the fuck up. They also fight one another for your business. They still smell, though. Good to know that some things translate over continents.
Comment by HighMaintenanceHussy — November 17, 2005 @ 10:18 pm
I think we should explore how you transitioned from gay cowboys to cheese. Why don’t you tell us how you really feel?
Comment by Darrel — November 18, 2005 @ 12:17 am
Are you truly complaining about this??? I would sell my soul for a cab driver who would shut the heck up!!!
Welcome back home
Comment by LisaBinDaCity — November 18, 2005 @ 5:32 am
Ah, you’ve reminded me of some very interesting NYC cab stories (no, not the taxicab confessions type, alas). And I didn’t even take cabs much. I’m a subway boy.
But since your driver was named Muhammed, I must start with the fact that I was once driven by Muhammed Ali. Not that one, but still. More oddly though (especially for someone who didn’t take many cabs around), I once took a cab from the Upper West Side to the Upper East for some drinking, karaoke, etc. And then a numbe ro fhours took a cab back. And it was the SAME driver!
Anyway, if you need any advice on good bars to meet in, let me know, brother!
Comment by Fun Joel — November 18, 2005 @ 8:02 am
I believe Eric Cartman once described independent films thusly: “They are all about gay cowboys eating pudding.” Something like that.
Comment by kingbenny — November 18, 2005 @ 8:12 am
And of course I just received payback for this comment… I just had the chattiest cab driver EVER.
HARUMPH
Comment by LisaBinDaCity — November 18, 2005 @ 9:29 am
I love New York! Am jealous! The last cab ride I had in NY my Pakistani cabbie, Mahamoud, sang Indian love songs to me all the way back to my hotel. Pretty friendly guy for it being 3 in the morning.
Comment by groovebunny — November 18, 2005 @ 7:03 pm
I am a cabbie myself and maybe when you talk to a Pakistani guy who is a cabbie you might want to talk about something other than Brokeback Mountain. I mean even in New York outside of the yuppie areas no one cares about a movie like that; talk to him about something like the price of tools or rising costs of rents and you willo be able to get a better convo. Myself I am a talkative driver, and I don’t smell.
Comment by Umar — December 15, 2005 @ 5:29 pm