Oh shit! Exhibitionism!

I have to warn everyone. This entry is for nerveless only. 

"You’d be quite surprised by the amount of exhibitionism that happens around us every single day. Of course, not the disturbing flashers who jump out of bushes, but the soft hot flashing that can be so hot." - reads www.lovepanky.com in the article "Sexy Exhibitionism – How to Get Naked in Public". Even if hot flashing could be hot (sic! sic! what a nonsense!) flashers don't need to jump out of bushes to be disturbing, and yes, it is quite surprising! I'll spare you the story of a customer who decided to "finish himself off" on my trike on the way to Knightsbridge, for it is basically too creepy. Last Saturday night though, I follow Brewer Street. It's dark, rather cold and my pocket is rather empty. I am in front of some shop, move on slowly. Suddenly somebody calls me, saying something that I don't quite grasp. The only thing I'm sure about is that someone offers me money. I catch a glimpse of a guy sitting on a step behind a little pillar. It seems like his pants are down... I'm thinking: "Another perv", but I put on a brave face and ask: "Where would you like to go?" "I just need some toilet paper!" - says he - "Have you got any? I'll give you £10!" "I like your style!" - I tell him. I really can't believe it, can't stop myself from laughing as I jump off my trike. I pick up some tissues and pass them to him. He accepts, produces his wallet and gives me £20. He just seats there on the step, pants down, like if nothing happened, even though he probably just laid some seriously hot and heavy brick. I can't tell if he's blushing while flashing but I doubt it, for in darkness you feel no regret, plus it's not in his pants, which counts. I wish him a pleasant evening and I'm off.

You put me in a mood

Those people who expect YOU to pay THEM as they get on your trike are my favourite customers... With no sense of shame whatsoever they proudly expose a chip on their shoulders. First of all the place they are actually going to is "just around the corner", "only two blocks away" or "only down the road". Not to mention that "something is better than nothing", "you can either take this (i.e. some petty change) or wait here in vain" or even "you should think about making your living". As if one would be able to make one's living riding around all night for two pounds seventy three pence or something... "HOW MUCH?!!! ARE YOU FOR REAL?!" "I'M A SINGLE MOTHER!"  "I'M ONLY SIXTEEN!" "K'MON BOSS! JUST PEDAL! WE'LL PAY YOU ONCE WE'RE THERE!" By the end of the day you are but a "fucking rickshaw" and very soon somebody will remind you about it. Thick skin and selectivity are the key virtues, for even if people are really equal, the equality has nothing to do with a size. And when it comes to technique... Well, technically you are supposed to pedal. Therefore big, heavy people should pay more, innit bruv?! The only problem is to set things straight... Another night, on New Oxford Street, a couple comes to me. They want to go to Old Compton Street. She's an English girl and he's a smartly dressed big black fellow. I say a fiver per person, a just price, Lord is my witness. She does't seem to mind but she looks at him first thing and I already see his scowling expression. "It's just around the corner! Let's walk!" He says. "Do it for eight pounds in total." She suggests. "Not with him." - Is my answer. Addressing the fellow I add: "Look at you! You are a RESPECTABLE gent..." With my hands I'm showing HOW respectable he actually is. I see another rickshaw coming, the girl moves towards it and I'm kind of relieved, for I can tell that the small Asian guy who rides it is so desperate that he would probably go for a fiver... The guy is still by my side though and presently he says: "I think I will slap you!" I have to say something to this so I ask quickly: "Why?" "You put me in a mood." He gives me a dirty look. I'm asking myself how tough I REALLY am. To get some more time I say: "I'm only trying to do my job..." "I'm here with a lady and you... I really should slap you!" But he doesn't. I look around. "Well, you gonna do as you like..." I'm already sensing his hesitation so I add sharply: "I CALLED YOU A RESPECTABLE GENT, RIGHT?" He agrees. "Fuck that!" He says and follows the girl. They get on the other rickshaw. Much relieved I pedal off.

Perpetuum mobile

Marek's rickshaw once broke on Piccadilly. He could do absolutely nothing about it. One of the chains snapped and he had neither a spare one nor a chain breaker tool. There was no remedy. He had to push it back to the base. Somewhere on Piccadily a stroke of good luck sweetened a bit his misfortune. He met a friend of his who seeing him in trouble offered a helping hand. "Get on the saddle and steer. I'll give you a push!" Never minding his smart clothes, that friend of Marek pushed the trike energetically. Thus, pretty soon, they reached Piccadilly Circus. A police officer looked at the show, including a smartly dressed guy, a tricycle and an idle rickshaw rider and knew straight away that the thing in front of him was not one of a perpetual motion. Adressing Marek's friend he asked: "Excuse me! How much did you pay for this lift, sir?"

Why I don't like lesbians

That night weather tricked me again. It was warm, nice and dry, so I decided to leave my canopy at the base,  moved out enthusiastically, got two-three quick lifts and soon got caught by a vehement downpour too... Fortunately I soon found a shelter, by Travelodge Hotel on High Holborn Street and Museum Street's corner. An architect who designed that hotel was so kind, that he left a recess in the ground floor's right corner. Me and my rickshaw sneaked in there neatly. If only that place could protect one, as well, from recession... In any case the rain could not diffuse through. Unfortunately lesbians could. Four of them appeared out of the blue. Even though myself being in charge of THAT particular tricycle was out of question, no one asked questions. Two of them sat quickly on it, third one took the operator's place and was clearly about to take off! The fourth one, poor creature, was simply butching around. "You snooze, you lose!" I said to myself and fearlessly stepped into trajectory! Collision was inevitable. Fortunately killing me softly with rickshaw didn't work. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" The "driver" looked me gently in the eye. Petting her was not my ambition. "It's all right. Just get off!" She did. I stepped aside. The two seated stayed. There was some smooching and boob squeezing going on. I didn't fancy a threesome, neither quartet nor quintet. Dem ladies were not exactly my type anyway ^_^. After a while two of them moved on and from some distance started to urge two remaining. Enjoying each other's company those were not in a hurry. Finally though, all of them were gone. I approached my trike and to my distress discovered that pouch on the grip rail was wide open. I had two Pret-a-manger sandwiches there. Those bitches pinched them!

English summer chat up line

There's that joke circulating on the web:"In the Bible it rained for 40 days, they called it a disaster. In England we call summer. " Nights are short in June. In the full daylight, about 4.30 am, I stopped in a red light on Charring Cross Rd, right by Leicester Square tube station. There was a bunch of late night/early morning, mid-twenties clubbers on my left. Two lasses approached me. "Do you know if there's any place still open around here?" I briefly explained what was still available. One of them soon walked away to join her friends but the other clearly felt flirtatious. "Is this called a rickshaw? Where you from? I like your eyes... DO YOU KNOW THAT THE MAXIMUM TEMPERATURE THIS SUMMER WON'T GO BEYOND 24 DEGREES?" I had no choice but to beam at her saying that it was really devastating! Soon enough her boyfriend frowned at her. "Jane! I see you later, yeah?" He moved on. She pulled a face and scurried away after him.