I could write a book about the conversations I have with cab drivers. I love them. They love me. We are a PARTNERSHIP while I am in their car. It happens time and time again. I am just chilling in the back seat, and suddenly, who knows how it happens, the driver and I are in a full-blown conversation about the Rastafarians and Haile Salassie. I’m not kidding. That happened once. I also remember talking with a driver from Afghanistan (this was in 2001 – but back in the spring) – and we had a big conversation about the blowing up of the statues. I’ve also had great conversations about music, sports, celebrities who tip really well … etc. etc.<\/p>\n
Here’s one of my favorites though – he and I were having such an interseting time of it (to us, anyway) that we sat outside my apartment for a couple of minutes to finish the conversation.<\/p>\n
It was the night of my birthday party a couple years ago and I had been out until 4:30 in the morning. I splurged on a cab home. So it’s 5 am. Factor that in.<\/p>\n
We first began talking about the upcoming fare hikes. WHERE WILL IT END? He had mixed feelings about it because he knew that people would choose to walk the 10 blocks rather than pay such a huge hike.<\/p>\n
Then I asked him where he was from, and he said, “Bangladesh.” He then told me his whole life story. His whole family is in Bangladesh. He is here alone. But he is going home in a couple of months to meet the woman his mom picked out to be his wife. He has never met her. He is very excited to meet her and also very excited to be a husband. He’s 28.<\/p>\n
“I am ready to get married.” he said happily.<\/p>\n
I said, “And you trust your mom to pick out a good person for you?”<\/p>\n
He said, “Oh, yes. Oh, yes. My mom knows me so well. She knows what I like.”<\/p>\n
I said, “Wow. That is so terrific. Good luck!”<\/p>\n
He will go back to Bangladesh, and then return to America with his brand-new wife. He has one day off a week, and goes to the movies, and has a couple of beers at a local pub. He enjoys the pub, and enjoys his friends there. He is very happy to be in America, especially in Manhattan, “where you don’t get flooded all the time”. He likes having his own life, his independence.<\/p>\n
He told me that Bangladesh is a democracy, a new democracy, and on its way to be a functioning one. “We are not like Pakistan.”<\/p>\n
“What would you say is the difference between you guys and Pakistan?” I asked. [Now a word on all of this. I’m not an idiot, and I know he was giving me a biased view of things. But it’s always more interesting to get people talking and to fucking LISTEN TO THEM rather than babble on about how much you know. At least that is my philosophy on life, and it seems to be a much better way to get through the world. You actually can get to know other people that way.]<\/p>\n
So anyway, I asked: “What would you say is the difference between you guys and Pakistan?”<\/p>\n
He said, “Well, Pakistan is HARD Muslim. We are not HARD Muslim.”<\/p>\n
“What do you mean by hard?”<\/p>\n
“Well … they are illiterate. They only are interested in religion. They don’t care about anything else. They don’t believe women should be educated. The militarycontrols everything.”<\/p>\n
“So … what is going to happen with Pakistan, do you think? Is this just going to go from bad to worse, you think?”<\/p>\n
He said, “Miss, it is not a good situation. Pakistan is a country full of lunatics.”<\/p>\n
I said, “It’s interesting to me that when Pakistan was formed … people thought that religion would solve everything. Like: as long as everyone here is Muslim, then all else will follow. But it hasn’t worked out there.”<\/p>\n
“No. It is a very bad situation.”<\/p>\n
By this point, we were turning onto my block.<\/p>\n
I said (also, by this point, I was sitting on the edge of the back seat, leaning over the front seat, with my head through the little glass window. Like an eager lunatic.) “So can you tell me about the secession in 1971? What was that all about and why?”<\/p>\n
At that moment, the absurdity occurred to me, and I started laughing. “Can you boil the entire situation between Bangladesh and Pakistan down in one block, please?”<\/p>\n
He burst out laughing.<\/p>\n
And then, we actually sat in the parked taxi outside of my apartment for 15 minutes, and he told me about the secession. The Cliff Notes version, but it was good enough. It was a beautiful connection. After I paid him, he turned around and held his hand out for me to shake. We shook hands.<\/p>\n
I said, “Good LUCK with getting married!”<\/p>\n
He said, “God bless you, miss.”<\/p>\n
It was like we were cultural ambassadors. I’m an American. I’m white. I’m Catholic. He is a Muslim from Bangladesh. It was 5 in the morning. But we were able to communicate. We were able to understand one another.<\/p>\n
I haven’t forgotten him – I would recognize him on the street if I ran into him – I love moments like that. Human moments.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I could write a book about the conversations I have with cab drivers. I love them. They love me. We are a PARTNERSHIP while I am in their car. It happens time and time again. I am just chilling in … Continue reading