Friday, March 09, 2007

Taxi Cab Chronicles: When Rich Boy’s Ad Lib Comes to Life

Usually, I leave the Taxi Cab Chronicles theme to Smartness, but I couldn’t help but pen my thoughts on a situation the two of us encountered last Friday night on our weekly excursion to Newark, NJ (think: South Central on the East Coast) to work with younger brothers:

Upon exiting Newark’s Penn Station, Smartness and I braved the frigid temperature and made our way past the zombies (see: crackheads), peddlers and pushers surrounding us to the cab line in an effort to solicit the services of a vehicle that would safely deliver us to our volunteering destination.

Aside: I’m sure a good deal of you are familiar with the usually civil process of major transit hubs, where commuters join a line to solicit the services of the nearest cab driver. During those moments when a commuter unfamiliar with this process attempts to cut the line, those in attendance join in clamor to let the offending individual(s) know they must join in line as everyone else has, or risk being assaulted and having their chest kicked in as the code of the streets would graciously permit.

That said, last Friday night Smartness and I observed two Caucasian gentlemen make their way past our civil queue and towards the line of approaching cabs. Upon their hailing of a cab, every member of our line shouted the adlib to Rich Boy’s “Throw Some D’s” (envision, in unison: “Wait a minute muthaphuqua!”) and requested that they take their rightful place at the back of the queue.

Instantly realizing their mistake, one of the gentlemen apologetically began to make his way towards the back of our line, only to have his business requested by the black cab driver, angrily exciting all those (black patrons) who patiently observed the civil order and waited for a cab.

To be clear, no one’s issue, or at least not mine, was the fact that these gentlemen cut the line, as most persons unfamiliar with the civil order of major transit hubs might mistakenly do, but the fact that this cab driver, in particular, solicited their business after he bore direct witness to their infringement of the social order.

The cab driver’s blatant disregard for the aforementioned social order and the offended, cold and lawful (and again, black) members of the queue forced me to make the decision as to whether or not I would jump in front of his departing cab, shatter the front drivers side glass with an unforgiving kick, and then proceed to school the gentleman on the offending and racist tone of his actions, or simply internalize the moment and write about it on my blog for my many adoring fans.

Clearly, my punk ass chose the latter.

We’ll see how things go this evening…


Brother Smartness said...

I'm glad you wrote about this. You managed to capture the humor of the situation, a feat that I would certainly not be able to pull off.
I'm still pissed about this. In fact, I intend to karate kick a yellow cab a la Street Fighter II "destory-a-car" bonus level this evening.

Solgenique said...

I can never remember this guy's name. Everytime I see a pic of him or hear the song I think: Brother Lightness.

And shake my head.

Brother Afrocan said...

OOOOOOOOOOHHHHH NNOOOOOO you did not just mention Street Fighter destroy-a-car bonus. I was 'hot-fiyah' like Dylon, back in the day with my man E Honda. I may be rusty but I can still remember how to repeatedly hit the high-punch button to get E Honda to do his devastating arms flailing thing.