Читать книгу Confessions of a New York Taxi Driver - Eugene Salomon - Страница 11

A guy and a girl came out of the Bowery Bar on East 4^th Street late one night and jumped into my cab. The guy gave me their destination, 24^th Street and 2^nd Avenue, and moved halfway across the seat to make room for the girl. As she closed the door behind her she blurted out, ‘You don’t mind if we have sex in your cab, do you?’ in the same way someone else might ask if it would be all right if she smoked a cigarette. Then she pushed the guy down flat on his back.

Before I could get the quip ‘I charge extra for that’ out of my mouth, she was on him like a Fido on a leg. It turned out it didn’t matter if I minded or not, there was going to be a party on the back seat. Although I appreciated her outrageous effrontery, I wasn’t too happy about having to suffer the discomfort I was already beginning to feel. But it was a short ride and I decided it would be better to endure it for five minutes than it would be to raise an objection. So we were on our way.

I drove half a block and hit a red light at the first intersection. As I came to a stop, I noticed something – parked next to the curb, immediately to my left, was a police car with two cops inside. There was a male cop behind the wheel and a female cop in the passenger seat to his right. Both of them were staring with great interest at the spectacle occurring on the back seat.

The female cop looked at me as I was looking at her. The expression on my face said, ‘I am enduring the torture of serving in a professional capacity two animals who don’t have the decency to care how their actions are affecting other people.’

I rolled down my window. She rolled down hers.

‘Is this legal?’ I asked, the tone of my voice implying that it would be great if she could find a way to bring a little justice to the situation.

She was right on it. She picked up her microphone (all police cars in New York have sound systems) and, with a big smile on her face, went to work.

‘Hey, you back there in the taxi!’ her voice boomed, ‘What are you doing back there?’

My passengers remained oblivious to the proclamation and continued humping on each other. People on the street, however, had begun to take notice.

‘Hey, no sex in taxis!’

Now everyone within earshot was staring at them and beginning to enjoy the show.

‘Hey, you, lady in the taxi – get off of that guy right now!’

The girl looked up. Suddenly realizing that she was making the day of about a dozen people on the street and, worse, was under direct orders from the police to cease copulation, she dismounted in horror.

‘That’s better! Now behave yourselves!’

There were still about ten seconds left before the light turned green. People near the intersection were laughing and one man actually began to applaud. It must have seemed like an hour to my passengers before that light finally turned green and they escaped from the scene of their public humiliation. And, you know, that little jaunt up to 24^th and 2^nd turned out to be as calm and sober as a ride to church on a Sunday morning with the minister and his missus.

Funny how passion can turn on and then suddenly disappear, isn’t it? Go figure.