The buzzer

Once I was stopped by a gent who said he was in a hurry on his way to Victoria station. I said I could take him there pretty fast and we got ourselves a deal. We moved on hastily. Every time we were supposed to stop in a traffic lights he was telling me: "Do the lights, mate! Do the lights! I`ll give you a tip!" On one occasion he also said something I couldn`t entirely understand, but it sounded like: "Normally I do (...) but tonight I don`t care!" Travelling in this blithe manner gave us a remarkable speed and as a result we got to Victoria really soon. He seemed to be very pleased. He got out his wallet and opened it to pay me. Then I saw a police badge inside of it. He tipped me as he promised, thanked me politely and was gone.

Spiky iron fence

I went out in the night time, as usual. Suddenly a bizarre sight drew my attention. I saw a pair of black people. She was standing on the pavement, laughing histerically and he was literarily lying, face down, on top of the spiky iron fence. I watched in amazement. I couldn`t understand what I was seeing. "Why should one lie like that, on top of the metal spikes? Does he enjoy himself? Is he comfortable?" All those questions occured to me at once. I stopped next to them and doublechecked. Beyond any doubt the guy was not a fakir. He looked at me and uttered weakly: "Man! Please help me!" Woman kept laughing. I got off my trike and stepped forward. He somehow managed not to get forked so far, but clearly was losing his strenght. I could smell alcohol on his breath. Fortunately he was not too big. Quickly I got him "off the hook". He was VERY gratefull. I moved on, looking forward to fighting dragons and setting princeses free.

Humility

I was really, really unlucky. I started relatively early but it took me quite a while before I got my first lift. Once I was done with it I carried on, pretty relieved and hoping that from now on it would be a routine rickshawriding night. Unfortunately it was the only lift I got. I went on, going in circles hour after hour, kept trying to talk to people, everything in vain. The tension in me was growing. I became more and more angry with myself. When one gets in a mood like this you don`t need to be a psychologist to guess what`s going on. Just one glance at his face will tell you - he`s upset. What do you do? It`s simple! You find a happier looking rider to carry you... I knew it was not about to help me at all, nevertheless I was fretting myself big time. As usual I forced myself to keep moving but I felt so miserable and helpless... As I got dangerously close to explode, unexpectedly I saw something very strange. I was going down the road at easy pace. Passing by one of the intersections I heard a woman shouting. I looked left quickly and... I saw a pair of my friends. Obviously they didn`t know I was there. They clearly went out clubbing but presently the girl was making a really nasty scene. I hardly caught a glimpse of the situation but it was more than enough to realise that the guy was in a shit neck deep. In a blink on an eye all my annoyance evaporated. I wasn`t bothered anymore! I felt very sorry for those friends of mine and really ashamed that my transitory setback made me feel so unhappy. Calmly I accepted my fate. A hint of humility makes miracles.

A wallet

I picked up those three lads on Oxford Street. They wanted to go to a kebab-house, that was just around the corner. The boys, in their early twenties, were really enjoing themselves. One of them suddenly stood up and exposed himself, freely waving his willey. All the ladies around were delighted. Everybody on the street went nuts cheering and screaming in approval. We kept traveling in style and soon we got to the food store. Lads carrying on with their horseplay pushed the half-naked one off the rickshaw. Having his legs hobbled by his put down pants he fell on the floor like a cadaver from an open wardrobe. His friends howling like a monkeys quickly jumped on top of him. All three of them were billowing on the floor screaming, laughing and cursing. This instant a guy who was just passing by joined them rapidly. It looked like he just liked it and wanted to play with them too. The whole action took no more than a blink of an eye. The starnger stood up and was gone immediately. One by one the young nutters were getting up too. The one who exposed himself earlier pulled his trousers up and suddenly realised that his wallet was gone. The pickpoket was fast. There was no trace of him already.

A kitten for free

Sunday night was most definitely over. By 4 am I was turning left from Old Compton St. into Charring Cross Rd, like milion times before, heading back to the base. When I was passing by this 24 h fastfood store somebody called on me:
"-Where you going?" - I turned around. A guy was stading on the pavement.
"-Where YOU wanna go?" - I got off and stood next to him.
"-Take us there, around the corner" - he indicated a general direction - "for two quid!"
There were two of them, both in their forties. One - a very tall and very drunk too, and the other, that just spoke - shorter, a bit more sober and, as it soon appeared, much more frustrated.
"-What place you`re going to?"
"-Listen, you can take us THERE for two quid or you carry on, wasting your time." - uttered the shorter one.
"-I`m sorry, but I need to know where you guys going, first. Are you looking for anything?"
"-We want pussy!" - they agreed quickly. The shorter looked at me duobtfuly:
" -But you`re gay! You not gonna know..."
I just laughed.
"-So you guys want some prostitutes, yeah?"
"-No!" - shouted the smaller one - " We want a pussy for free!!!"
"-We want a lively bar or a disco with girls..." - interposed the tall guy
"-Guys!" - I laughed again - "- It`s nearly monday morning, everything is shut!"
"-Wow wow wow!" - the shorty obviously knew better. - "I`m not a fucking tourist, mate!"
"-And I`m not a German before you ask me..." - mysteriously put in the tall drunk.
"-Don`t give me this shit! I`m local! There must be something open! I`ll give you a fiver if you take us to Wardour St!"- went on the shorty.
"-Ok! Let`s do it!"
"-There! I pay you upfront!"
Getting on the rickshaw was a real challenge for the tall one... He nearly fell. Shorty was laughing his ass off. When it was his turn to get on, he looked at me and said intimidatingly:
"-If you try to mug me off, I swear, I will fuck you up!"
"-Don`t worry!"
"-I`m not worried, mate..."
As soon as we moved on he started to scream at me: "Faster! We are in a hurry! LOL! LOL!" Every now and then he was adding that: "I`m just joking, mate!" On and on like that... He was also trying to grab my arse. Fortunately we were separated by the plastic rainshield. I concentrated on breathing. We got into Romilly St. He kept screaming, cackling, punching the rainshield and trying to touch my buttocks. "I`m just joking mate!" "That`s all right!" "Ha! So you like it!" He doubled his efforts. I got a vision of myself, grabing my trike by the front wheel, overturning it and then kicking him until the rainshield was all red. I concentrated on breathing instead. Soon we arrived to Wardour St.
"-Here we are!" - I announced.
"-You`re kicking us out?!" - the shorty was clearly disappointed - "take us somewhere lively!"
"-I told you everything was shut, wait here for two hours more an they will open again..."
"-Places like that should be open 24 h! All right! Give me a pound back!"
I told him quickly I had no change.
He got out, turned his back on me and started to piss on the nearest building.
The big one got off the rickshaw with a great difficulty. The shorty snapped, pissing:
"-I already payed him!"
The tall one tapped me on the shoulder:
"-You`re a good man!"
"-Thank you!"
I was gone immediately, thinking how lovely I was gonna describe it here.

Dreams

Once around Charring Cross Station I saw this guy. He got a big, heavy box of tools with him and he said he was a carpenter. He aked me if I knew any hostels around, explaining that he worked till late and missed his last train. I offered him a lift. He refused saying that he had no money. His toolbox looked really heavy. I told him, I could take him for free. I was plannig to bring him just to Sherwood St. He was hesitating for a while but finally got on. On the way he did give me some money though. Unfortunately the first hostel (the one in Sherwood St.) was full up. I checked the other one in Hollen Street too, just to find out that I needed to go to Generator in Tavistock Place not far from Russel Sq. Once I knew that, I was really happy it wasn`t a free lift anymore! Apparently they got some spaces available there. He thanked me heartily and apologized for not having anymore cash for me. He told me earlier that his girlfriend was from Lithuania. Presently he passed me a two Litai coin. "I hope it will bring you luck!" As he was about to go he asked me unexpectedly: "Do you still have dreams?" Quite puzzled I answered him something like: "Yes, of course! Who doesn`t?" "I`m sure, very soon they will come true." - he said and was gone.
I still have the coin and I`m still having my dreams :~)

Ancient wisdom

I spotted those two guys in the corner of Oxford Street and Newman Street. They were standing there, just talking. I stopped next to them and whilst we were having a little chat I noticed, that one of them got a necklace with a Star of David on it. "Oh! Are you Jewish?" - I exclaimed, maybe a bit imprudently. "Yes! Have you got any problem with that?" - he looked at me with a sudden scowl. "Why should I?" - I quickly answered him - "I just saw the star on your neck! That`s all!" He asked me where were I from and it seemed like my answer steadied him on. I kept offering them a lift. Finally the guy said jokingly: "Hmmm... Once you`ve got no problem with Jews..." He looked at me and smiled artfully: "Come on! Give us a Jewish bargain!"

No more advertisings - I`m banned by Google Ad Sense

After a "meticulous investigation" some erm... specialists from Google Ad Sense came to the conclusion that I put their bee`s knees in a "serious danger"! Yes ladies and gents! I`m nothing but a crook! Come closer`n`have a look! Thanks to my dirty tricks, in about four weeks I made like 20 quid! That`s it! That`s how to make cash quick! Yo listen dawg! Crack on writing a blog!
Nevetheless it`s over! They blew my cover! My dosh`s taken, and seems like I`m forsaken!
Why? "Iinvalid clicks" were getting much too high!
Well, thanks a lot, people, but unfortunately you were reading too many adverts! LOL
No worries though! Let`em get stuffed! I`m very happy to know that you come around in numbers. I`ll keep supplying you with more and more night-life-rickshaw stories.
There`s just one new element: NO MORE RAT RACE!!!
LOOOOOOL
(obviously it`s a matter of survival)

Royal Opera House

Wellington Street is quite uphill when you are coming from Waterloo Bridge. I was going up the road at easy pace. It was quite late at night and Covent Garden area was pretty empty. Passing Russel Street on my left I saw those two middle aged gents happily pissing on the Royal Opera House. Perceiving this as an obvious lack of respect for any high culture at all I quickly offered them a lift to the nearest tittybar. They accepted enthusiastically, tipping me generously on top of that.

A garbage truck or a broken bumper

It` a real nuisance when there`s a garbage truck in front of you, in one of the narrow streets of Soho. Immediately you get trapped with some cars in front of you having some more of them behind you... The only thing you can do is to pray for patience. You can also curse loudly. The result is the same. No escape. Even if you loose your temper, it`s still all right. The situation gets much worse when that thing happens to the driver in front of you. Let him hoot and honk as much as he likes. The real problem starts when he fancies to reverse...
Once I got stuck like that in Frith Street. The sanitation engineers were doing a great job, but for the guy in front of me that was no good enough. After a good deal of abusing his horn, quite unexpectedly for anybody, me being on the top of that list, he backed up as blithely as it gets.
His flashy rear bumper, apparently made of a flexible plastic, got over my pedal and presently was very firmly attached to my trike. I got pretty scared but soon I realised that nothing actually happend to my rickshaw. The champion in front of me finaly realised, that there was something behind him. Proving his brightness, at least for the second time that evening, he moved on forward. That had an immediate effect on his bumper that got nicely torn away. It was a weekend and the car was full of young people who obviously came to West End to party. The driver hastily got out of the car shouting insults. He saw his bumper on the floor and the same minute he spotted a police car parked a bit further down the road. The officers were sipping their cofee, standing around it. That cooled him down a bit. Especially because I could easily tell that he was on drugs. He came to me and said quickly: "I`ve got no problem with what just happened to my car. Has anything happen to your bike?" Fortunately nothing was wrong with it. We shaked our hands. The garbage truck moved on...

PER PERSON???!!!

"- A lift guys?
- You are too expensive! We can not afford you..."
This is a very frequent answer to my question. Usually we charge more than taxies, that`s the truth. Especially since they (thanks God for that) have forbidden any engines at all. Without any electric assist all the riders pedal the same. I think it`s just. I also think that we deserve good fares for our hard work. Although some people try to treat us like animals, we are neither a horses nor anything else of this kind. I`m sure it`s fair enough - you take a rickshaw, you enjoy a good service, within West End you move much quicker then any cab (not to mention buses) cause you don`t get stuck in a traffic. You take a rickshaw and you love it cause it`s fun. It is a great experience! That`s why many people take one even if they go places a bit more distant like Euston or Kings Cross, Old Street, Liverpool Street, London Bridge or Borough, Waterloo, Victoria, Sloane Square or Knightsbridge, South Ken, Gloucester Rd, High Street Kensington, Notting Hill Gate, Paddington, Edgware Rd, Baker Street... The most distant place I`ve ever been to with customers is Tooting Broadway and let me tell you - me and the customers, we enjoyed that enormously! Obviously the further you go the more you pay. I strongly recommend to agree the price beforehand. That leaves no space for any misunderstandings. One more very important thing: we charge per person. Very often when I say that I hear: "Are you for real?!", "You are having a laugh/a bubble/a giraffe!", "You are a fucking mental, mate!" etc. Well, so be it but what would you do, if you were to pedal? Probably the same, I guess. Still, nobody forces anybody else to travel in style i.e. to hire a pedicab. Everyone who have tried it though, knows it`s worth every penny.
Anyway, a little bit of skepticism adds some spice to the whole thing.
Once two guys have stopped me next to Imax Cinema by Waterloo Bridge. They`ve asked me about the price, naming quite a distant destination. My message was simple - "the damage" would be significant. "How much?!" - one of them couldn`t believe it. I said that again. "Does it include the drugs you are on, mister?" - was his next question.

He`s been there...

Another night among many interesting people I met in West End there was this guy, walking quickly down Charring Cross Road, his hood on his head. He kept repeating loudly:
"Maaaaaan! I`ve been in prison maaaaaaaan!
Yeah maaaaaaan! I`ve been in prison maaaaaaan!"

Helpful

Once after a busy saturday night I found on my trike a passport with a credit card inside. It was already early sunday morning. I considered that it was a serious matter. I checked the passport and I found inside of it this emergency contact number, written with a pencil. Immediately I made a phone call. "Hallo" - I heard a male, groggy voice. "Hallo! Do you know..." I gave him the passport holder`s name. "Wrong number!" - he just hung up. I double checked the number. There was no mistake, for sure! I repeated the call. I tried to explain what was going on. "Look mate!" - the guy was getting irritated - "It`s not funny to wake people up at this time on sunday morning." He hung up again. He didn`t even listen! I was determined to sort out this misunderstanding. I called him one more time. He got furious: "I don`t know who gave you this number, but I will find out who you are and then I will breake both your hands and legs!!!".

Charlie

One very, very experienced rider told me that when he was but a beginner this situation really took place. On one occasion he was stopped by some guys who told him that they wanted to go to where "charlie" was. They asked him so, if he knew where "charlie" would be. "Sure thing!" - was his answer. He got`em on his trike and quickly took`em to Prince Charles Cinema on 7 Leicester Place.

A kickback

Some of the clubs or discotheques in West End give you a couple of quid commission when you bring`em customers. Some of them employ a whole army of touts who chase the punters for them. Last night I took a nice couple to this club, that was always open till late. As they got in I asked one of the bouncers, a big African guy, if they paid any kickback, at all. He looked at me, smiled and said: "Here we only kick front."

Just sleeves

I got a lovely story for you ;~) I heard this one from another rickshaw rider, a friend of mine. He never spun a yarn. One night in Soho those two big guys were looking for trouble. As I just told you they were pretty much of a jockstrap type, so they decided to show off a bit. They tried to bully some rickshaw riders and to intimidate practically anybody else they met. They went on like that, very self-confident, to explore Soho. After a while they could be seen runnig. Local crooks were seriuosly after them. One of them got his head open with a bottle. The other was fleeing half naked, having his shirt torn away, except for the sleeves . And so, very fortunately for them, while still on the run, they managed to flag down a black cab and drove off.

The Negotiator

After a busy night I went down to this 24 h off license on New Oxford St, to pay my water bill. I find it really helpful that one can pay his bills anytime he wants! So once I did pay it, I saw this girl who was in the queue right after me. She came closer and asked me what did I just pay. "My water bill. Why?" "I`m a negotiator, you see, and I`m telling you that you should not pay it." A bit puzzled I gave her a questioning look. "Basically" - she went on - "what you should pay is your rent and your council tax. All the bills should be fixed with the rent. I could negotiate that for you!" - she smiled. "Oh! That`s really kind of you but it did happen over three years ago and unless we find a time machine..." We laughed. We were standing in the doorway of this shop. I showed her my trike and offered her a lift. "Hmm... I live in Docklands, you see..." "I see... Don`t you want a lift anywhere else though?" Right in this moment six Asian guys appeared. They stopped around my vehicle, watching it with curiosity and talking softly to each other. They looked decent enough. After a moment one of them took off a heavy lock, that I hung on the handlebar. Me and the girl were stading right behind them. "Why do you touch it?" I asked loudly. He put it down. "Is this your rickshaw?" - they asked. I confirmed. One of them stepped forward and asked this silly question I heard so many times before: "How much to Putney for six of us?". They laughed loudly. "Seriously, how much?" he repeated. They watched me with wait-and-see attitude. "For six of you to Putney? Well, I`m not saying this to you, yeah? But normally... Consider though that I`m not saying this to you right now! So normally I would say: You should sell your mama to get this money..." They laughed happily, except for the one that asked. Instantly he got very angry: "You don`t know who I am!" He started to speak hastily an abusive talk. His Asian accent grew thicker and fortunately I could not get him very well. His friends didn`t stop smiling as they kept winking at me behind his back. One of them said softly to him: "But he didn`t say that to you..." "But that disrespectful! I`m a customer! How can he say that I should sell my mother to have a go on this shitty bike of his!" Apparently the negotiator couldn`t take it any longer: "Stop being rude!" - she said to him. He looked down at her: "Shut up! Talk to the hand" He moved his open palm towards her. She got pretty pissed off and she told him where to go. She didn`t stop talking and now I could tell that her negotiating skills were at play. The bypassers started to stop and watch with growing curiosity. I decided the time came for me to go. I got to my trike and ivitingly showed it to the girl. Clearly she prefered to negotiate a bit more. I waved at her and much relieved I went away.

Talking about Jesus

I remember this manic street preacher. People used to say that he was an excentric millionaire. On every busy night he used to perform in the middle of Piccadilly Circus talking through his bullhorn. I could never make out much of what he was saying, except for this favorite phrase of his. He kept repeating over and over again: "You can be a sinner or a winner!". I guess he is definitely a winner by now, cause he stopped showing his face around.
Every now and then "Jesus Army" strikes around West End. They park they surplus doubledecker next to Leicester Square and they send around patrols of their members dressed in a sort of camouflage jackets. They wear those bright red, rubber crosses on their chests. Once I had a doubptful pleasure to talk with their leader. Very seriously he pointed out to me that I should stop chasing after silver and gold. He also try to convince me that I should join their "community" where all my needs would be surely met... Another time I got besieged by two very young girls from his sect. We had a little "theological" chat that immediately prooved their absolute ignorance on a Christian faith. Seeing what I`m dealing with I just agreed with them in every aspect. Encouraged by this succes they decided to pray for me. To do that properly they asked my name. Out of pure contrariness I didn`t want to reveal it. To my surprise that made`em quite angry. They reproached: "How can we pray for you not knowing your name?!"
One night another guy approached me. First I thought he was after some change but apparently he wanted to talk about Jesus. "Do you acknowledge that He is a son of God an that He died on the cross for our sins?" I totally acknowledged that. It seemed like he didn`t expect it. "Look!" - a bit confused he reached his pocket. "This is..." - he produced a small sachet of ketchup. He looked at the kechtup and blinked fiercely. He got confused a bit more. Our eyes met and we smiled...