Sunday 28 February 2010

Mafia Wars

As everyone probably knows facebook offers us many silly games to be played online. "Mafia Wars" is one of them. I`m an addict. I started to erm... practice it in the end of last summer and by now I got to the level 260 something... Nothing to be proud of, as a matter of fact. Well, now check this! I`ve got this friend. Let say his name is Jimmy. He rides a rickshaw too. Approximately about six weeks ago he joined facebok and converted himself to Mafia... At the moment he is at least about 40 - 50 levels above me. What has taken months and months to me he just achieves in the blink of an eye...
Last night I have seen him working. We stop to chat a little and I ask: "Hey Jimmy! Isn`t your girlfriend angry with you? It seems like you play Mafia all the time!" "She was!" he answers cheerfuly "however I explained to her what`s going on in this game and now she`s playing it for me while I`m working". That`s sooo romantic - don`t you agree? XD

Tuesday 23 February 2010

Hustlers

"Stop, stop! This is a holdup! A HOLDUP! LOL! LOL!" Four teenage boys get in my way. "Give us all your money! LOL!!!!" "My money? LOL! I wish I had it!" "Oi boss! Give us a free lift to Trafalgar Sq, innit?!" "I`m not going there. I`ve finished for tonight and I`m getting back to the garage" "Which way are you going?" "Towards Holborn." "Then give us a free lift to there! You are going this direction anyway" "I`m tired. I`ve been out for hours." "Listen, listen! Take us with you! We`ll sack everybody we meet on the way and we`ll give you an Ipod!" "That`s tempting and I do appreciate it, but I`d rather be going. You guys have a good night." "See you later!" they say and that`s it, for this time.
Geezers need excitement, innit?! I see them every night. Every now and then they are bored enough to come closer. Hustlers in general are usually very young or even very, very young and preferably roll deep. To come to West End with a bunch of bloods to hustle, mainly around Leicester Sq. and Trocadero is not too bad a way to kill the urban boredom. Sometimes one needs to be patient. Like the other night. Me and my mate we park and wait for customers. And there you go. A whole bunch of hustlers arrives. They sit on our trikes and refuse to get off even when people want to hire us. Their "leader" is trying to talk us into carrying the whole lot to Trocadero for one pound per person... It`s a busy time. We are losing money. Some riders offer us their help but I politely refuse. The situation isn`t really dangerous and the last thing I want is to fight with a bunch of kids in the middle of Oxford St. I know that soonish they will discover that there`s not enough fun in here. I`m not aggresive and they see that I`m not scared either. No fun. The "leader" has to do something just to save his face. He comes to me and says: "I`ll be praying all night for you to die!" Off they go.
One day I stop in Oxford Circus. I try to convince those two guys, who look like the city workers,that I could take`em somewhere really nice. Suddenly a large group of hustlers appears. Some sit on my rickshaw, some others start to bullshit the city boys. "We come from a dangerous area, yeah?! Council estate, innit?! Bang! Bang! We could shoot your glasses off bruv!" "Impossible" - the fellow proves he`s bright - "my glasses are buletproof!" Now all the "gangstaz" are boisterously hooting. "BULETPROOF!!! LOOOL! LOOOL! LOOOL!" Swaying and laughing loudly they go away.

To be honest though, so called "regular" customers very often happen to be much worse than a badboy element. For example soldiers. Once in the middle of a winter night a guy and two ladies stop me. They say they want to go to Victoria.It is absolutely clear, that they are shitfaced all right. And God knows what else. We move. After a while I realise that somebody is kicking my ankle rhythmically. I turn around and I see one of those women. She seems to be comatose. Eyes shut, head dropped and her tits out. Still kicking though. The icy wind blows. Well, when you drive a rickshaw you need to look forward. Then they start to argue. It`s not easy to concentrate on anything when you`ve got three nutters behind you. They insult each other and talk a lot of shit. In every red light somebody tries to go out. With a great effort I manage to keep`em on my trike. After a while that seems timeless like eternity I finally get to Victoria station. The guy looks around and asks: "Where the fuck did you bring us? I said we were going to Wellington Barracks!" "No George!" the other woman protests "you told him to take us to Victoria" They start to fight again. Somehow I manage to get`em on board. "Welly B" fortunately is not far. On the way they go completely mad. After that lift I feel like I should retire immediately.
On another occasion two slodiers (or maybe even officers) in their forties, wearing those service dresses wish to go to... Wellington Barracks. As soon as I start one of them says: "Get to it you cunt!" I stop. "What did you say?" "Oh! Nothing!It`s just a figure of speech!" - explains his companion. That time I stay in West End.

Sunday 21 February 2010

In the name of Allah on Charring Cross Rd

On Charring Cross Rd, in exactly same place, where on thursday night I saw those latinos rowing, some young fellows were having an incredibly pussy fight. They took off their belts and kept trying to hit each other with the buckles. They were jumping around like a bunch of monkeys, shouting fierce war cries in Arabic. Some of them were attempting to stop that fuss and the name of Allah was much heard. Scared bypassers kept their distance trying to stealthily get through. I watched the whole thing closely and I didn`t even see anybody getting as much as a slap in his face, however one had to admit that the scene was of a great theatrical value.

Friday 19 February 2010

Thursday Night

I stopped in the red light where Wardour St. meets Oxford St, right by Angels. A guy, that was just crossing it, shouted: "Take me to my house!" "Where is your house?" "I don`t remember! Do you remember where is it?" I told him I wasn`t sure. I turned left in Oxford St. After a while I saw a group of young people. They just flagged down a black cab and now were hastily trying to catch up with it. One of them - quite a fit bird - was striding unsteadily on her high hills right in front of me. Checking her legs I noticed that she had pierced a flattened up, empty can of beer with one of her stiletto boots and it got stuck on it. She didn`t seem to be bothered though and I guessed that she hadn`t even dicovered this lovely little knickknack yet. In Oxford Circus I turned left and soon I got to Piccadily Circus. Then I halted in the red lights again. A bloke dressed in a very tight and glossy spandex costume was slowly getting through the crossing. All the present rednecks were giggling while pointing out his naked back with fingers, enthusiastically showing it to each other. As I entered Coventry St. a drunk, ugly bitch with a fag in her hand, screamed at me from a wide open window of a car that was just passing me by. "Why are you in the way?!" Almost immediately they got stuck in a traffic. I carried on past Leicester Square and China Town towards Soho. In the corner of Wardour and Winnett St. I saw one of those louts that always hang over there in search of any opening windows of opportunity, talking to some drunk, angry fellow who probably just got nicked. I heard the first one saying again and again: "I dont`t know! I wasn`t here! I don`t know..." I rode through Old Compton St. A blond in a very tight trousers suddenly turned around. "I DO NOT HAVE A BIG ASS!" - she uttered reproachfully to following her british youngsters. I took a left into Charring Cross Rd. Just around the corner the Police was separating some fighting latinos that probably just left Salsa. Hot blood was boiling and the officers didn`t get an easy job at all. As I got to Oxford St. an impatient man in a high vis vest asked me about Subway the sandwich bar. I was trying to direct him when I understood that, beyond any doubt at all, it disappeared... Three buildings next to each other got shut and ready for refurbishment or maybe demolition. I moved on and in the next crossing I let some people pass through. I heard this ugly girl saying: "Yeah! He really gets on my nerves! He tried to pull my skirt up earlier..." Amazed I looked at her again wandering how desperate this poor guy must had been... A little bit further up the road an American stopped me askig about Subway... "Oh... It`s shut down, mate, but if you want food..." Finally I got a lift! When I came back to Oxford St. I saw those two guys wearing suits. One was carrying a street rubish bin while the other was in a possession of one of those metal Evening Standard stands that announce what`s cracking today. They stopped for a moment, swapped the objects between`em and went on. I went around for once more and I got back to the base. The gate was out of order. I could hardly open it. "Que hases a esta hora, guevon?" Asked me a fellowrider from Columbia. "Lo de siempre. Me busco la vida..."

Monday 15 February 2010

You`ve got to do what I tell you!


Photo by Norr

This entry is more about our band - Chromosome Breaker http://myspace.com/chromosomebreaker, than the rickshawriding itself. To be precise it goes about the concert we played last week. However quite a few riders were present and anyway the story is rather interesting and it brings a lovely epimythium ;~)

It had been a while since we tried to play some music and people kept saying we were getting better and better. Somebody invited us to play in a bar. We loved the idea so we cracked on the rehearsing. Shortly before the performance we went down there to check out the venue, to talk with a man in charge etc. Everything seemed promising. We liked the place, the manager was very friendly and helpful. Obviously we were supposed to play for free but nevertheless I explained to him that we needed to bring over the drumkit and some other stuff and so I asked him if he would give us about 20 - 30 quid for the transport. He said that if there were many people coming to see us and if they spent significant amount of money on alcohol he could pay us some afterwards. He added that in this case he could be also interested in organizing some more gigs in the future.
The day of the concert had come. People came in numbers. Eagerly they started to buy drinks. Everyone seemed to be happy. The manager was still friendly and very helpful. Finally we started to play and we got a really enthusiastic receiving. We kept playing for about an hour, people wanted more, everyone was having loads of fun.
Once we finished I started to do things up. I didn`t stop even for a while. All of the sudden the manager appeared. He told me very coldly that he wanted us to be gone in twenty minutes. I felt a bit suprised by this change in his tone but I just accepted that. I prepared everything to be moved quickly and went to change. As I was getting back he stopped me and said in a very rude way: "If any of your stuff remains here in five minutes, I will throw it downstairs." Now I got really astonished. I called people to help me and when they started to carry our equipment out I asked the manager if he wanted to give us any money, at all. "Next time" was his answer. "Next time when? After you throw our drumkit downstairs?" I questioned. "Listen!" said he "You`ve got to do what I tell you!" "Look!" I took off my hat "I`m being polite to you and I would really appreciate if you could be polite to me." "You`ve got a problem?" he looked at me "You will never play here again!" He turned around and was gone.

I`m really sorry that so many of my friends have spent so much money in those place that night. I was lucky that I had a bottle of a mineral water with me, cause I wasn`t offered anything else during the six hours I spent there. Funny how money change the situation, or maybe the managers...
Anyway the concert was nice - check it for yourselves!


Photo by Lore Vidal Ares aka SFDS





video by lore lavacolla


Friday 5 February 2010

A flat one

Obviously I started late. Nevertheless I got a few quick lifts and as everything seemed to be just fine I realised that my front wheel got a slow puncture. "So what?" - I didn`t give up, pumped it up and kept cruising. The air started to escape faster. I fixed that in eighteen minutes. I was proud of myself. On top of that those two guys stopped and questioned how much "a brother like me" would charge them for a ride to Kings Cross. It seemed like my price would prove satisfactory. Suddenly my wheel sissed mockingly and flattened again. I was completely puzzled! I didn`t even move! I started again. When I was in the middle of it those three lads inquired if I knew any good clubs around, open till late. I talked them into taking a rickshaw and sent them to a friend who was passing by. Just when I finished a sweet punky lass approached me asking: "Where`s Oxford Circus from here?" "I`ll take you there for a fiver." "But I`m a poor student..." "If so, I will take you there for four quid, all right?" "I would really like to use my legs"- she laughed. I looked at her again. She seemed to be so sweet and innocent and everyone knows that those ones are the most vicious... "You know what? I`ll take you there for free!" "Really? Why would you do that?" "Because I`m crazy!" "But... Can I trust you?" - she was already seated and ready to go. Exactly when I was mounting my trike the front wheel hissed balefuly and got indecently flat. The cute punky princess smiled charmingly and was gone. It started to rain and I pushed my wretched rickshaw all the way to the base that wasn`t exactly around the corner...

Thursday 4 February 2010

So you are leaving me?!

I stayed till late that night. I had a very long ride by the end of it and I was just getting back to the base hoping to find some donuts in the fridge. Around Holborn station I saw that guy standing on a pavement. Staggering he flaged me down. "Typical..." I said to myself and I regarded him quizzicaly. These new, expensive, fashionable clothes, a lot of gold and a thick cloud of good eau de Cologne around him - one could easily tell that this plump, Indian gentleman was wealthy. He tried to tell me something, he couldn`t speak though... I spotted some dried blood in the corner of his mouth. He was trying to articulate something desperately. Instead he was making strange soft sounds. I watched him with grim fascination. "207" - he announced finally as he handed to me his oyster card. "I`m not a bus driver, you know?" I said with his oyster card in my hand. "Can you take me to Ealing?" I just laughed and wanted to go away. "So you are leaving me, yeah?" - he reproached and made a face like a five years old boy who is about to burst in tears. "This is for you"- he passed me a bunch of keys and a mobile phone with a pic of a nice Indian girl set up as screen`s background. "Let`s go somewhere." He produced a handsome wad from his pocket: "Count with me..." I ignored him and handed back the keys and the mobile. "I can`t take you to Ealing." "So you are leaving me?" he repeated. A police car went by. He gave it a hostile look. "Fuck`em! What can they do?" - he exclaimed. Then he adressed me speaking with great difficulty: "People think... I`m fucked in my mind... but it`s just... too much cocaine..." Dawn was breaking. "Look" said I "I can take you to Holborne tube station, I`m sure you get a train to Ealing from there." "For how much?" "For free! It`s just around the corner!" He laboriously scrambled on my trike. I got him to the station, it was still shut. He got off and gibbered: "I want to go to Ealing..." "You can either wait for the first train or catch your bus from there." I showed him a bus stop near by, next to Sainsbury`s. " Thank you soooo much! Give us a hug!" He gave me a hug and passed to me those keys and the mobile phone again. As he took out his hand from his pocket a fifty pence coin fell on the floor. I picked it up. He held his hand out, quickly, clearly demanding the fallen coin back. I put the keys and the phone in it, pocketed the coin and moved away. When I turned around I saw him heading somewhere, not at all towards the bus stop...

Take me to Yeti`s

As usual I started late. In vain I was going on and on in circles. I couldn`t get any lift at all! My frustration was growing. I started to brood on how much I hate the fucking petty bourgeoisie. And all those drunk rich kids. And all those minicab drivers hooting at me without any reason at all. And all those drunk, plump, middle aged gentlemen staggering on the streets. And all those crooks. And crackheads. And plainclothes. And obviously, a mood like that is not good for bussiness... I just wanted to get back home. Fortunately my disciplined mind vanquished the defeatism. "One more round and you can go" - I promised to myself. It worked again! I saw this guy standing in the corner of Wardour Street and Shaftsbury Avenue. "Where`s Trafalgare Square?" - he inquired. "Can I take you there?" "Ok. Just stop by a cashpoint" Saying that he collapsed on my trike. He was pretty shitfaced. His english was good but he was speaking with a funny accent. When we stopped by an ATM, a bunch of young, scantily dressed girls stormed out from a perpendicular street, yelling and throwing around them anything they could pick up for that purpose. Hustlers flocked to make friends with them. A fascinating mating dance broke out. My customer was impressed for a while then collapsed again on my rickshaw. "You know, I want to go to this place..." he frowned thinking intensively "...this place ...erm ...called Yeti`s." Keeping in mind that we are not at all near by Himalaya I decided to stick to the plan. "Is it by Trafalgar Sqauare?" "Yes, I think so..." "No problem at all! I`ll get you there!" On the way, every now and then he kept asking me if I was sure that I knew where we were we going. I drove to Tesco Express and we stopped. He got off and kept talking about Yeti`s, about him being a lost foreigner in London, about his stolen bag... He also made that clear to me, that if I wanted to fuck him up he was gonna fuck me up first because he`s a mental and a very dangerous guy. He added that he respected me and if we were in his country he would show me everything worth seeing. He didn`t tell me were was he from. His name sounded more or less like "Mamal". Considering where I had picked him up from I was really surprised that he was still in possession of his own wallet and mobile phone. I didn`t want to leave him like that. I didn`t know where Yeti lived either. "Can you call any friend of yours to help you?" He could and he passed me the handset. I explained where we were and the other guy promised to come over in ten minutes. Mamal got furious "Yeah! Half an hour ago he was supposed to be in Oxford Circus!!!" In this very moment we were joined by two Spaniards who tried really hard to convince me to take`em to South Ken for a fiver. There was much rejoicing. Finally Mamal`s friend appeared. He was a bit more sober than his pal. They thanked me cordially and were gone. I directed the Spaniards, politely refusing their fiver and a very kind offer of swapping on the way to South Kensington and evaporated.

Tuesday 2 February 2010

OOWAHMATE?!

A weekend had started. As usual I went out late, well after nightfall. As soon as I hit the road I saw a gorgeous girl, and lo!!! Once she saw my rickshaw (or me - who could tell) she moved across the street towards me!!! My heart started missing a beat! The nearest lamppost didn`t work for some reason. I couldn`t make out her face very well from the distance but her figure was reminding me about those heroines from comics... She was very tall, very busty and leggy. When she stopped by my side and made just a little utterance I realised that in fact she was a brazilian transsexual. My heartbeat got abruptly very regular again. She wanted to go to Soho for a tenner and I eagerly pushed the pedals on. After a while we stopped in a red light. There was a bunch of english lads standing in a corner of the street. Immediately they spotted my passenger. I could tell that first they got beguiled as much as I did. They didn`t remain spelbound for too long though and one of them quickly called out to my customer: "Oowahmate?"