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...

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

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.

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.

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..."

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