Squirting

A fellow rickshaw rider told me that once, around Covent Garden, he saw two drunken women. One of them desperately needed to relieve her bladder. She went to a nearest doorway, put her pants down, squatted and started to pee. She was far too drunk though, for this kind of acrobatics. Suddenly she lost her balance and fell on her back. Nevertheless she couldn't stop peeing. So there she was: lying on her back with urine gushing from her pussy like a fountain.

Her friend was laughing so hard, that she nearly peed herself too.

Emancipation

You know those couples practically making out standing, her/his back against a wall, at night, in public places, don't you? Sure thing you do! Well, to be honest with you, sometimes they could be even more than just couples, like that lucky gay boy whom I saw one night on Old Compton Street being simultaneously jerked off and fingered by his two mates.

Those are extremities though, and much more frequently one can see couples enjoying themselves this way or another. Usually the initiative is taken by a male or a male-like partner who enthusiastically fingers a girl. Lately I spotted something significantly different. Last night I saw a girl pressed against the wall all right, by some fellow, however she smartly reached into that guy's pocket and was actually tossing him energetically. I hope he didn't cum in his pants. As a matter of fact it was all happening on the corner of New Oxford Street and Earnshaw Street, right by Centre Point. I was impressed.

Snapshots

To be a rickshaw rider is all about living the way YOU want. It's about freedom. Freedom could be dangerous but it's a whole different story. It's enough to say that freedom has its price. Every now and then somebody calls you a prick. Sometimes someone promises to stab you in the neck. "Bigmouth strikes again!" - as Chumbawamba sang. "Water off duck's tail..." - as Alex Brownie says. Yet there is something that remains. It's as if your brain stored some pictures. There's that feeling too, as if you were dreaming or as if it was just a film you were watching...

I met those two very young Turkish lads. One of them was really pissed, he could hardly walk. Obviously they craved for some affordable, immediate, physical love without strings attached. Btw what they were looking for was actually available around the corner. I charged them upfront and got them there in no time. As I stopped I took a look behind. One of them was quite strangely positioned. Upper half of his body was hanging out of trike. He was all covered with his vomit and so was side of my rickshaw next to him. "FUCK ME!" - was all I could think or say about it. That instant he heavily fell on the floor and remained there, silent, motionless, positioned like some bizarre foetus. "Hassan! Hassan!" - his friend tried to wake and lift him up but that fellow just didn't seem to be there any more. As I was about to say that, in his actual condition, he probably won't get a hard on anyway, his friend looked at me and waved. "See you later." He didn't need to say it again.

Rickshaw rider's night out

Some time ago some people, who took on writing a blog about rickshaws in London, asked me to prepare a guest post. So I did. They published it lately http://rickshawsinlondon.com/guest-posts/, omitting some interesting and important parts. I thought it would be a shame to lose them, therefore I decided to post a full, original version below:

"Hi everyone! I've been riding a rickshaw for a little while. I even write a blog about it! Here's a handful of a practical knowledge I'd like to share with you:
- Beware very drunk/drugged people. They are capable of anything. I insist: ANYTHING!
- Anytime you can tell that your potential customers are too rough or just untrustworthy charge them upfront.
- Some rickshaw riders are monkeys. Greedy, unscrupulous, selfish and cynical. They will steal your lifts, they will undercut your prices. Smile and be patient! There are many nice people around every corner. You will find them.
- Some people out there will treat you like an animal. You don't have to take anything like this. If anybody calls you names, suggests that £5 is a lot of money where you come from, tells you that your father drives an elephant, maliciously tries to finger your arse or to set your jacket, on your back, on fire with a lighter - don't take them anywhere. You are self employed, which means that you work for yourself. Dignity has no price.
- Some shameless, drunk women will try to allure you into having sex with them, on your rickshaw. They may even suggest a sexual encounter as a form of payment. Don't you EVER make out on your trike. She may change her mind later and accuse you of a rape. You will go to prison for certain sure. You have probably heard how they treat rapists over there. Take her home or pay her a visit. Use a condom.
- A bad boy element is an intrinsic part of the nightlife... Those gentlemen will try to force you to drive them around for free, will attempt to take your trike away from you or basically will sit on your rickshaw refusing to go away. Never show them that you are scared (no matter how intimidated you are feeling). Never try to be cocky or aggressive (you can't fight a bunch of hoodlums on your own). Talk politely but show them that you are self confident. Low profile people's minds are erratic. They will get bored soon and will be gone.
- Avoid a physical confrontation at any price! Remember: you don't go out to fight, but to make money. Nevertheless when worse comes to worse and you need to defend yourself, never punch people in their teeth, for their teeth will easily cut the skin on your bare knuckles. You bleed a lot, scars remain forever and what if your opponent was venomous? Simply kick their balls. It works. BTW if anybody puts a knife to your gut, unless your second name is Seagul, Norris or Van Damme, don't struggle. It's not worthy.
- Read my blog. It's great! ;~)"

Difficult

I spotted a guy, on the corner where Regent Street meets Maddox Street. He was conspicuously lost. I made a u turn, got closer and whistled softly to get his attention. He approached me eagerly, blinking and smiling widely. "Do you need directions?" "Yes!" I looked at him and thought that somehow he was smiling too much. "I'm looking for... Wait, wait... I'm looking for a square..." He was kind of punk-rocker with a mohican and a lot of piercing. He said he was an Italian. "Russel Square, Portman Square, Leicester Square?" I was trying to give him a hint. "No... no... wait..." Speaking slowly he was laughing and poking faces. "It's difficult... The TRIP is difficult..." I looked at him and suddenly got it. "Are you on LSD?!" "Yeah!" He grinned broadly. There was much rejoicing...

Dinner with Swedish king

Love, love, love! Sudden and unexpected strikes of passion - isn't it what human nature is all about? "Sex and violence" - was the song from The Exploited. The lyric succinctly, however very accurately indeed, describes what humans like to do the most, when off duty. A lot of booze is also (not) to be (v)omitted. When everything goes smoothly enough, there's no need to throw up nor fight. Winner takes all. That may even include a lost, lovely bird willing to spend the rest of the night with you. A hotel room is all you need.

Unfortunately that is the root of all problems. London town is a busy one. No matter day of the week, hotels are always full. A rickshaw rider is very often asked for help. I am never overenthusiastic about this kind of a challenge. It takes ages to find a vacancy and not every customer is generous enough to appreciate your efforts. And as the wind blows emotions grow cold... You not gonna believe it but there are some jokers out there who dare to offer one a "no room - no fare" deal...

Sometimes there's no choice left. Something is better than nothing. It's always a long journey and we talking here about visiting about 15 - 20 hotels minimum. Often a customer believes that he possesses some magic powers and insists on doing the talking himself. That leaves you alone with the pray for a while. One lady once kept assuring me (and probably herself as well) that: "He's not seedy, you know?" As if she knew him forever. But that's exactly how we click, isn't it? The short lasting feeling of "it seems like we've been knowing each other forever" is a key factor.

Another night I met that couple. That guy was Swedish, really cool and well spoken. He informed me right away that in case I find them a room he will get me a dinner with the Swedish king. How could I refuse? It wasn't easy. Journey was long and challenging. I was even stopped by the police who performed some routine check on me. My passenger kept shouting that he will pay all the fines, even though the officers assured him that there were no fines whatsoever. Finally we found a place. Object of his desire had the highest high heels I have ever seen in my life. I'm sure he deserved it. He was a gentleman and he knew well how to prove his appreciation in terms of money. At least that time finding a hotel for my customers was a good fun.

Dickhead

I just came from Beak Street. Right around the corner, on Regent Street, I saw a black cab. A guy with two women were getting on it (one female was already inside). That instant some other, well boozed fellow came quickly towards them. Suddenly I realised that he was some drunk boor, especially when shouting something unintelligible, he strongly pushed the other gent. I heard the other one asking in puzzlement: "Are you serious"? The drunkard started to shout insults and push both the other guy and first woman. Second one emerged from the cab only to be pushed too. It seemed to be a kind of an argument over who was first to flag that taxi down, but cabbie took no parts and was just waiting. I stopped behind the taxi and watched, wandering if that lunatic would really start punching them. The attacker was mad and drunk, red-faced , his eyes frenzied. He was ordering those people to get on that cab and be gone. They kept trying to reason with him for a while, to no effect though. He was constantly threatening them with violence, rising his fists and counting to three. By the way, I doubt he could count any better than that. "GET ON THE FUCKING CAB!!! I'M COUNTING! ONE! TWO! THREE!" Eventually those women persuaded the other fellow to actually leave that place on that cab, immediately. All of the sudden there where just two of us left. As he got closer I looked him in the eyes, smiled and asked quickly: "All right mate?!" "FUCK OFF!" He screamed and walked around my trike. He crossed Regent St and kept going towards Hedon St. There are some cash machines in the corner. I followed him wandering what would happen next. There, by the cash points, stood three smartly dressed gents and a lady. That ruffian approached them briskly. Again fists up, foam at the mouth, counting to three, he pushed one of them, then, repeatedly, another. They were regular people so just asked him to stop it and go away. He wasn't up for it at all. God only knows what would have happened if, suddenly, a police car hadn't arrived. That instant the wolf turned shepherd... As I was about to leave, that bully, smiling innocently, started to talk in a very friendly manner to questioning him police officer. I hope they didn't fall for it...