My man “Hustle Man Charles” is back again driving a cab. I was so delightful to see him last night because my night entourages are running thin since pastor Joe and Ali two fingers left the cab business and the death of Wall Street Tom.
Charles is a brother from Nigeria and every sixth month he walks away from cab driving to do something better but his ass always comes right back to the driver’s seat of a taxicab. The thing I like about Charles is, he goes out there and hustle and keep trying and he is not like most cab drivers like the rest of us who keep planning of something better and think that the cab driving gig is temporary business, and the next you know? You are celebrating your 50th year in the business and a few days later they drag your body out of the taxicab at the Union Station line after you passed away of old age. I don’t think Charles would end up like that because every chance he gets he goes out there and gives it his best shot and one of these days his master plan is going to work.
Charles is a real hustler, he can sell you a smelly old sneaker and you’ll go home happy with the garbage he just bought. He got skills but the ingredient he lacked was patience and maturity. I talked to him for a few minutes and I saw a different Charles this time who is calm and focused but still funny, I think his new IRS chick got something to do with his transformation. He talked about her a lot, he might have gotten pussy whipped or something. Hey Charles, you better pay up your taxes on time motherfucker! Those IRS agents don’t fucken play, you might end up locked in her basement doing her laundries for life.
I remember back in the days he was trying to get me to invest $5000 in some kind of shit I really didn’t understand so I ended up investing only five shares for five bucks just to get him off my back and the start up company failed and Charles was hiding from the neighborhood loan sharks, no nonsense brothers from Benning Heights who staked out his apartment every night with loaded guns. He had to come back and start driving his cab again wearing a fake mustache and a Rasta hat working twenty three hours a day sleeping at shady ass motels where they charged you by the hour and the cockroaches know you by name. Finally he paid off his debt and returned to his apartment without looking over his shoulders.
Welcome back Hustle Man but I am still waiting for my return on my $5 IPO investment you jackass, your shit better work this time otherwise I still have those trigger happy brothers from Benning Heights on my speed-dial.
Please don’t forget the homeless,
Mad Cabbie.
3 comments:
Mad, I have been in those kind of motels before, it's funny as shit!
Brilliant post and so refreshing to hear a cabbie speak in friendly terms about an immigrant worker, I'm reading too many posts with a different flavor recently
what would we do without you, mad? we work all day at boring jobs, go home at night to watch TV....you, on the other hand, are out there making friends with the night, and best of all, you write about it. hope you're feeling better and better...
peggy's mom
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