Salesman in the rain (snow and sleet)

On that Sunday night it was raining, snowing and sleeting all at once or at very short intervals. The weather here rarely gets as bad. My trike was all covered with rain shields. I use a proper gear too. Goretex jacket, trousers and overshoes keep you dry. My cycling gloves, though, got soaking wet very soon. Having my hands wet in a cold wasn't exactly comfortable but I didn't want to give up either. Cycling gloves are made of such a fabric that they don't feel wet as long as you are worm working out. I kept pedalling vigorously around, trying desperately to catch a lift rather than a cold. There were few rickshaws around and for a good reason - to get drenched in a temperature around zero Celsius is nothing to be sought for. I couldn't get any lift for a long while. Nevertheless I gritted my teeth and carried on. On Piccadilly Circus I passed two conspicuously tanned gents with huge umbrellas. One of them held a vast Union Jack while the other walked proudly with an immense Chelsea FC. As I was passing by I saw them watching me but, somehow, cat got my tongue... All too bad, for my sixth sense screamed: "Those are your customers!" They walked slowly up Regent Street, towards Oxford Circus. "Now or never!" I said to myself, made a quick u-turn, and another, to stop my trike slightly ahead of them, and waited thinking of an appropriate chat up line. I was lucky - there were no other rickshaws around and soon I was approached by them and asked for directions. Those gentlemen were from United States and felt a little bit lost. A good salesman has to play things cool. I explained expertly the whereabouts and advised them on which way they should follow. Next I offered my services assuring that I could, both, take them to wherever they were going, or help them to find a great place of entertainment. My hands were wet, cold and I was broke. It could be my only chance that night... Nevertheless I had to be gentle. Being visibly desperate or even pushy would scare them off. They didn't want to go anywhere but to their hotel. "How much would you charge us? How much is a taxi?" "A taxi would be about ten pounds cheaper but I need to pedal and let me tell you - it's an entirely different experience!" Chelsea FC looked at Union Jack and said:"It's up to you." "Let us talk about it for a while." Suggested Union Jack and they walked a few steps aside. I did my best to look indifferent, looked away, just breathed and tried to think about something else. Then I realised that even though me and them spoke English, their lingo was somehow so much different. As if they were from another planet, or something... They were back in a minute. "Okay, let's do it!" Said Union Jack. "Thank you sir!" "Don't call me sir, I'm Gil!" Saying that he produced a cigar and asked if it was alright to smoke on my rickshaw. It was. "Take it easy! Don't kill yourself!" They advised me as I pedalled on cheerfully. My hands were not cold anymore and it was a long distance lift. I was finally making money, even counting on a tip! They seemed to appreciate the ride. Chatting and laughing all the time, suddenly they broke into a song. We got to Gloucester Road tube station in no time. "Well done!" Exclaimed Gil and shook my hand. "Thank you sir!" "I'm Gil!" He reminded me with a slight reproach and walked on to pee on nearby Burger King. The shorter and even more tanned fellow produced an impressive wad of notes, paid me and gave me an extra fiver... To be honest with you I can ridicule those two Yankees as much as I want, truth is though, that they were two extremely friendly individuals and they made my Sunday night, when it was raining, snowing and sleeting all at once or at very short intervals...