Taxicab impressions

While a confabulation of gay bloggers converged Friday night at Barrage on the West Side, Luis and I were at a farewell party clear across town for two of my colleagues who are moving to Tampa next week.

I think Luis had a vodka and tonic for every "I've heard so much about you," and after my fifth Stella while dancing to some terrible hiphop song that repeated the word "booty" one too many times, we called it a night. It was chilly and rainy out, and we briefly considered going to the big GB:NYC2 bash, but we were too trashed and too tired, so we went to Silver Spoon Restaurant on First Avenue and had pancakes. This is the reality of our lives.

We hailed a cab to Brooklyn. The driver was an Irish guy in his early 60s, an ex-NYPD cop. He drove like a normal person, not like a driver in Death Race 2000.

Five minutes into the ride, Luis text messaged me (sitting beside me) and asked why the meter wasn't turned on, I shrugged. It certainly wasn't a gypsy cab. The cab had all the usual signs of a legitimate cab: medallion, decals, cabbie license, even a minicam over the visor.

"Don't worry about the camera," the cabbie said. "It's there for minimal protection. If anything happens, it'll get captured on the camera."

"Thank God," I said, "I was wondering if we were going to be on Taxicab Confessions.

The cabbie laughed. "No, nothing like that. I had to pay $12,000 to not have a partition," the cabbie said, in a voice that reminded me of Sergeant Joe Friday in Dragnet. We were riding in a Honda Odyssey minivan, not the typical Crown Victoria, "I deal with the public all day, and for the most part I meet some very nice people."

"Aren't you concerned about being held up?" I asked, like a typical New Yorker.

"I've only been held up twice," he said. "And the last time was 20 years ago. Both times it was junkies. If they want my money, they can have it."

Joe Friday's been driving a cab for about 20 years, He owns his medallion and is the sole driver, which is rare. A medallion these days costs around $200,000 to $300,000, and like other commodities, it can be bought and sold. According to Taxi & Limousine Commission requirements, medallion owners must personally operate their cabs for 210 nine-hour shifts a year and can lease their cabs for about $20,000 to $30,000 a year to other independent cab owners. Joe's dream was to lease his medallion and buy land in Puerto Rico and live out his remaining days with his Puerto Rican wife, whom he still adores after 30 years.

As we drove over the Brooklyn Bridge, taking in the magnificent skyline in the damp Spring air, I got my usual gooey proud feeling about being a New Yorker. As if reading my thoughts, Joe said, "I love New York. It's been very, very good to me."

When we got to our apartment, Joe said, "Oops, I forgot to turn on the meter. What do you usually pay for a ride like this?"

My first thought was to say "priceless," but instead I said, "How about $25?" which is what I would usually pay for a ride from the Upper East Side.

"Sounds good," Joe said. We got out, and Joe took off into the night.

"That was the most civilized cab ride I've ever had," Luis said.

It would have been fun to witness the debauchery at Barrage, but sitting with Luis in a cab on the way home on a rainy night, sharing a mundane New York experience, was, in its own way, oddly satisfying.