Thursday, October 21, 2010

Cab around Miami



Unlike New York, Miami is a city where cabs are not spotted everywhere. They are only around crowded areas like Miami Beach, Downtown, Miami Airport, Brickell, certain malls and the Port of Miami, but hard to find in the rest of the city. There are around 3,000 taxis registered in Miami and 8,000 drivers. The difference between one number and the other is that many cab owners derive their income from driving but also from renting their vehicles for $65 dollars for 12 hours to other drivers.

I’m riding today with my friend Jacques, the cabdriver. He tells me the first gas powered taxicabs were imported from France to New York. Hey Jacques, give me something juicy” I said.
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I’m in the backseat of his taxi which is very comfortable and soft made out of black leather. I do not perceive any hint of the small tree fresheners that are so popular in taxis. He tells me he washes and cleans it often and that he prefers real cleaning over fresheners because scents are made to slightly mask people’s different smells. “What do you mean by that?” I asked. He laughed and looked at me: “ok, you said you wanted the juicy stuff. Let me tell you about those smells”. Jacques kept driving and said:
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“One day a guy in his 40s comes out of a South Beach hotel with his shirt out of his pants and crazy hair. He jumps in my backseat and asks me to drive. “Where exactly are you going, sir?” “Just drive up and down Collins avenue”, he said loud and nervously. While I go slowly due to the regular traffic, the guy pulls down the window and yells to some ladies walking on the street: “You girls wanna make a thousand bucks for some photo shoots?” They just ignored him. I kept driving up and down Collins for 20 more minutes while he was scanning all female figures. He looked and me and said in a loud tone “Help me get some chicks, man!” That was a bad way of starting my week. I told him he had the wrong driver and dropped him back at the hotel. He smelled like absence of love”.

He continued saying…

“Some other day I picked up a French elegant lady in her early forties who was staying for 15 days at a hotel in Miami Beach. She told me she was going to meet a young girl in her twenties from Florida, the surrogate mother that was going to have her baby. I dropped her at a fertility clinic in Coral Gables. She smelled like hope.
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On a rainy morning I got a request to pick up a couple in their thirties at a hotel on Collins Avenue. They were fighting in the backseat because he had to get her out from some other guy’s room earlier “It was your entire fault,” she said; “you were the one who got me so drunk, in first place”. The guy was in tears. I dropped them at the airport and they smelled like broken vows.

I will never forget a man in his 60s from New York who was in a hurry to catch his flight back. I droved like a ballerina: smooth and fast on 836 to the sound of classical music on my radio. He told me that was the best drive he ever had while giving me a $40 dollar tip. He smelled like appreciation and generosity.
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On a Friday night I picked up two girls in her late thirties who wanted to go from Lincoln Roadto a swingers bar. I told them I could wait outside the bar and drive them back. They agreed and one of them said “Why don’t you come inside with us”. I refused and she replied “Come on, you can wait for us at the bar instead of sitting alone in your taxi”. I sat at the bar while they went to the private rooms in the back. After 15 minutes I asked for a soda but I could not finish it. I cannot describe you what I saw but I’ll tell you it made me throw up outside of this place. I waited for them in my cab and drove them back to Miami. They left an empty scent on my backseat.

My most recent one was a local lady in her fifties who needed a ride to some neighborhood in West Miami. She told me how she battled cancer for years. Her dad recently passed away and she sold her car to pay for the funeral because none of her loaded brothers wanted to pay for it. She was going to see her boyfriend to smoke pot and get some relieve. She smelled like pain”.
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Jacques stopped talking, but I know he has many stories like these. I looked at his hands on the wheel that grab him to his own reality. I never thought a backseat could have so many smells. Cabdrivers in Miami have heard and seen everything. Their lives are interrupted by people who hop into their taxis and leave a part of themselves.

3 comments:

  1. I always ask cabdrivers where they're from; this glimpse (the pictures and the writing) into their world is fascinating!
    Angela

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  2. Great blog post, juicy indeed. I have some advice, never take a cab from San Margarita Airport in Venice. A 15 minute ride costs us $65 Euros. And we spoke Italian! And the idiota would not stop cussing with his hands and words.

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  3. Thank you angelakelsey.com and KevKauai for your comments :)

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