Occupied

A fat car stopped in red light next to my trike. A cute black girl asked me: "Where you from?" "Where YOU from?" - was my answer. Two black guys sitting in car with her found it, for some reason, very funny. She seemed a bit confused but answered: "I'm from Eritrea. What about you?"
"I'm from Zimbabwe." Guys inside the car burst again in a boisterous laughter. "You are lying! You are from Algeria!" - said she. I laughed. "You smart cookie! How did you know?!? You are not just beautiful, you are smart too!" She was watching me closely. "Your boyfriend must be a happy man!" - I added. "I haven't got a boyfriend..." "She will be occupied with a man soon!" - driver exclaimed quickly. She poked a face. Lights went green. I wished her good night...

Three crazy Froggies.

I started late and that time I coudn't get anything at all. Finally on Coventry St., right in a corner by Prince of Wales Theatre, where they show Mamma Mia, I spotted three lads in their mid twenties. They were pissed, frisky and French. Fortunately one of them spoke quite good English. Soon I had to take one of them mischievous creatures off my trike and put him on the floor as he was about to drive away by himself. There was a lot of laugh but we couldn't agree a price. They wanted a very cheap lift. I refused, they went towards Piccadilly Circus. Passing through China Town I started to reproach myself. "What kind of a salesman are you?!?" I asked myself and decided to give it another try. I went around quickly and entered Coventry St. again. I found them sitting on a fellow rider's trike. He looked very unhappy and clearly didn't know what to do. Apparently he didn't want to take them anywhere and they didn't want to get off... They saw me and came running. This time we found a compromise and set sail. Unfortunately two of them were all about fingering my arse. I had to stop twice to put an end to it. Next they focused on pulling my poor, old and worn out canopy up and down... They kept shouting some bullshit in French and did their best to rock my rickshaw like if it was a boat. Neither my rickshaw was a boat though, nor I was Bob Marley. Soon one of them jumped off and started to push the trike from behind. He was so energetic that I could hardly stop in red light by Shaftesbury Ave. Immediately he pulled out his willy and started to pee on the street right behind my rickshaw. Three plain clothes policemen got him then. I wonder how did they manage to tell him off, for he wasn't a linguist. His two mates, somewhat uneasy, passed me a couple of quid. We have never seen each other again since then.

Take care darling!

A gay boy and a lesbian couple asked me for a lift to Heaven the club. I stopped by Charring Cross station to let them out. While I was getting paid the "female" lesbian was all sweet to me. She kept chatting and chatting and smiling at me. She enjoyed the lift sooooo much and I was soooooo strong and she wished she could help me somehow to pedal and this and that and God knows what else. Her large and rather slow butch companion finally paid and as they were going away the sweet one smiled widely and uttered loudly: "Take care darling!!!!" Butch one seeing that gave her a dirty look and repeated snidely: "TAKE CARE DAAAAARLING!!!!"

Do you know who my father is?

I was working hard that night. Started early and carried on like a horse. I came out to make money and I wasn't picky. Everything has it's limits though. Those three lads stopped me on Charring + Rd. Some people flag you down only because they are bored and want to take a piss at someone. "How much to Kings + ? ...What?! You charge more than a black cab!" No matter I've got no engine - right? "Well, you don't have to hire me... Take a black cab!" "Listen, listen!" - one of them gave me a dramatic look - "Have you got all the papers to do this job? Are you legal?" I looked at his funny cut eyebrows and goldie looking round signet rings and laughed loudly. Oh! He didn't quite like it, did he? He looked at me askew and asked: "Do you know who my father is?" Now I have to point out that I had been already working for quite a few hours that night. I wasn't exactly into being questioned by some dickhead. On top of that his silly question opened a torrent of sparkling ideas due to what his father would be. And as I was about to suggest that, to start with, they probably hadn't ever met each other, I reminded myself that I was there to make money and not otherwise. I looked at him with an ostensible concern. "I bet he's someone important!" He smiled. "You know what?"- I added - "Bless your father! Let me make some money! Have a good night!" Beaming he wished me luck.

I live very high there...

Two young lads approached me in Piccadilly Circus. "How much to Travelodge Covent Garden?" - asked a fat, dodgy looking fellow with funny cut eyebrows. He wore those, well corny, big, round, bad boy style, goldie looking signet rings. He had that attitude too, one could tell by his eyes... The other lad looked pretty harmless. The bully haggled hard. Finally we agreed a tenner fare. As soon as I got to their hotel fatty looked around and said: "It's not the one. Go there!" He showed me a little, back street off Drury Lane. I did as he wanted. "Stop here!" - he ordered. "We haven't got any money!" He looked at me boldly. "We've got to get in!" So now it actually was their hotel. "I'll go with you." - was my answer. I got off my trike. Bully had an opportunity to see clearly that I was much bigger than him. And it was his idea to get into that back street... He didn't seem to be so self confident any more. "But I live very high there, you see..." He indicated hotel's upper floors. "It's ok!" I grinned. "Ok. We've got only a fiver, actually six quid..." "Well, I need four more then..." Fatty looked rather lost. Other lad looked pretty harmless. "Erm... Have you got change?" "Loads!" I assured him.

Phone calls from wifes and girlfriends

Early in a morning, especially on Sundays, the base where we keep our rickshaws is definitely taken to another dimension or maybe even a higher mystical level. Entering an altered state of consciousness many of us become Übermenschen. Superman Alex (he´s a geezer), Frenchie, Billy, Hungarian Brotherhood, Immortal Fans of Vallenato and many other Little Big Men drift away in search of meaning of life or maybe quite on contrary, to try to forget what is this actually all about... Incredible, true stories, quips, banters and wisecracks, nutters, lost and promiscuous female clubbers and even true artists whirl around like colorful, exotic butterflies amongst vivid and withal exotic flowers. Rickshaws´soundsystems emit beats, hands transmit joints and bottles, wise conversate, fools laugh, nuts go nuts. Time passes quickly and suddenly mobile phones start to twitter. ¨Don´t go!¨ - a friend stops me. ¨Why not?¨ ´Let´s stay and drink!¨ Showing me his mobile he adds: ¨My battery got flat and no one has a nokia charger but that´s all right cause my girlfriend can´t call me!¨

Figure that out

I was right by the base when that young man stopped me. It was about 4.30 am, cold like hell. He wanted to go to Tower Hill. I gave him a critical look. Nice black suit, white shirt and smart shoes, all new and all dramatically spoiled. It seemed like he was weltering about in half melted, muddy snow on a road, or God knows where and in what exactly... At that moment he was already quite sober. ¨Have you got money to pay me?¨ ¨Don't worry! I will make sure that you get your money!¨ He turned around and went to a cash point nearby. Furtively I removed my blanket from passenger´s seat. (It would be bad enough has he stained the seat itself. Why should I wash my blanket only because he doesn't know how to drink?) He came back with some receipt in his hand. ¨Can you figure that out?¨ ¨Sure!¨ I took it from his hand and read loudly: ¨Your card has been blocked...¨ ¨Hmm... Could you give me some directions please?¨ I showed him the way and placed my blanket back on the seat.