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Sunday, February 17, 2013
BACK SEAT BOOGIE!
With nobody to harangue me about writing a page six style commercial today, I harken back to my cab-driving days for an anecdote or two.
As perilous as it may seem, I worked the majority of my shifts hacking till dawn without a partition to separate me from my passengers. It was only after several taxi drivers were murdered in 1993, that the TLC mandated those partitions in all yellow cabs and thus, fly-by-night drivers (like me) often drove for fly-by-night owners who didn't see the point of ensuring the safety of their employees if it was gonna cost them two cents. And so...they didn't!
But working without a partition had its advantages. Like you could actually converse with your passengers (something that was extremely difficult once the partitions were installed) which made for some entertainment during the long and arduous work that busting a 12 hour shift entailed. Now you would think that the close proximity between passenger and driver would preclude any sexual encounters. But you would be wrong. I and my colleagues all had stories to tell about people getting busy in the back seat.
Making out was commonplace. Couples used to do it all the time. For me, the sound of people sucking face just two or three feet behind me was annoying. And as soon as I heard it, I was aiming at the nearest pothole to break the lip lock. As in..."get a fucking room, buddy! I'm trying to concentrate here!"
But making out wasn't all my passengers did. Two stories come to mind - both of which occurred driving over the 59th Street Bridge. The first involved a couple of gay guys who embarked in Manhattan late one night "headed" for Sunnyside, Queens. Once we hit the span, one of the dudes fired up a phatty (no problem for me). Cruising the rear view mirror to ensure that everything was copasetic (cops and fires and such), I came to realize that one of the two guys had disappeared. Uh oh! Obviously, one was sucking the other's cock...as I could see the look of ecstasy in the receiver's eyes. Two things came to mind: 1) Don't look back! And...2) Don't ask them to pass the joint.
Fortunately, driving over the bridge on the lower roadway is a fairly noisy affair and not only did I see nothing...but I heard nothing as well. Thus, their adventure in oral sex was much less offensive than say...listening to a couple make out as we sat at a light in the city.
Similarly on another occasion, I was chauffering a couple of late night female revelers from Manhattan to Long Island City, and came to realize when looking in the rear view mirror that there was nobody in the back seat as I crossed the bridge to Queens. A mild feeling of panic struck me that somehow the girls had disembarked without me knowing it (at a light or something)...and I was dead-heading it out to Queens without a passenger for no reason!
So this time, I turned all the way around to peer into the back seat only to discover the two girls were both lying prostrate feverishly making out and dry-humping each other like crazed animals. Cabs were big back then and these girls were maybe all of 5' 2" and thus, the couple could turn the back seat into a bed of sorts. As with the guys, I said nothing and collected the fare when we reached their destination.
But others were not so lucky. Cyrus Webb returned to the garage one dawn repulsed by the specter of what he had witnessed on his last fare of the evening. "You can't believe what just happened," lamented Cy. "These two gay guys were butt-fucking in my cab while we were going over the Manhattan Bridge. The stench was horrible!" Yccch! Better off with the blow job guys and the two little lesbians. Just so I didn't hear anything, I was cool. But smelling the proceedings...when there were butt holes involved. That would have set me off for sure.
And on that disgusting note, I take my leave. Somebody wants some pictures today - and would rather pay in "services" than money. Oh well! A guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do. I'm out!