Shy NYC Cabbie: Combats Evil with a Cell Phone

I started driving a cab in New York City, because I wanted to meet interesting people. Now I just want to meet normal people. They are sometimes hard to find, especially after midnight. But wild and reckless people? – Cab drivers love ‘em. Where else would we “night trash” as one day shift driver jokingly called us (at least I think he was joking) get our main business late at night?

It is a love/hate relationship. If it weren’t for the thousands upon thousands of young folk, or those fantasizing they are young folk, saloon sampling (excuse me, now it’s called “night clubbing”) going from bar to bar until their very last friend has decided to pack it in, Second Avenue and Ninth Avenue and Bleecker Street would be pretty bleak. In my view, they are pretty bleak now with the dozens of barflies (excuse me, “cool and smart partiers”) rollicking about, laughing uproariously at one another’s “clever” jokes, smoking, or posing at jaunty angles, as if they were models or pop stars.

All of us drivers have bad experiences with the “smart and cool” drunks throwing up in our cabs, passing out, forgetting to pay, arguing or giving us wrong addresses or directions. One man fell asleep while paying me. I swiped his credit card myself, added only a modest tip, and finally roused him enough to get him home. Another poor soul fell and cut his head, lying unconscious on the sidewalk. I had to call an ambulance.

Reflections of Me

Don’t get me wrong. I did not grow up a Puritan. I was one of the drunks (excuse me, “night lifers”) for many years. But I had to give it up 27 years ago, because of a serious drinking problem. There is nothing wrong with a few drinks with friends. It’s part of the joy of life. But if you are like me, one of the one in seven who can’t stop, and are obsessed with it, Alcoholics Anonymous might be a good place to get help from people who have been in the same place as you.

At times, I think this is my penance for my years of debauchery. Now I have to drive around the man that I used to be, or his girlfriend. Hopefully that old man has died in me, and I have “put on the new man who has been created in God’s image – in righteousness and holiness that comes from truth” (Ephesians 4:24).

Yet, night after night, they shamble into the cab, booming into their cell phones in those overbearing voices that booze gives people, the same tired expression, “I’m in the cab. Where are you?” Many times I have thought to myself, Where are you, really? Spiritually? Probably not a good place?

Usually what follows is the litany of their plans for this monumental night that seems to dwarf the Normandy Invasion in its technological intricacies: “Zoey’s on her way. She just texted me. Jonathon emailed me, he’ll be there. Brie’s there already, she’s on the other line. I texted Justine to be there after he has drinks with Shawn. Call me as soon as you’re in the cab, Dude.” I pity the poor other cab driver who will have to go through this same ordeal when the other man or woman piles into their back seat. (It’s very cool to call both sexes “dude” nowadays, but who knows, in a few days this nomenclature of the ultra-hipsters could be “so two days ago”). You have really got to keep up, or you will be so “out of it.” I have often contemplated what “it” means. From what I have observed, “it” is not a good thing.

Foul Fruits

“By their fruits you shall know them”(Matthew 7:16) and many of these fruits smell and sound foul. A torrent of profanity and foul language can spew from some, certainly not all riders. Don’t get me wrong. I did not grow up in the shadows of  a monastery. Before I found the Lord I was the east-coast-profanity, and the picturesque-put-down champion, after having conquered Indiana, California and Miami Beach.  Now to hear an addled rant laced with profanity, particularly from a woman, just makes me cringe.

Since I am a shy person, I am totally defenseless against this bad behavior. Right? Not at all. I may not be like St. Paul who marches into the public square in Athens and proclaims:

  “The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth…He himself gives everyone life and breath and everything else” (Acts 17: 23-24).

The Lord, however, in his goodness provides a way. This year I have found the glory of Catholic Radio. When passengers get into my cab, they will hear soft Gregorian chant on Calm Radio playing, and I always say “thank you” as a greeting. It may sound like I have nothing but complaints, but believe me, I am grateful to have a job in this economic downturn with 11.3 million out of work. I am also thankful to be driving in New York, which is a cab driver’s dream materialistically. With its 8.3 million residents, many of whom travel only by cab, and over a million tourists every year, a cabbie can always find a fare. Some fares may not be to my liking, but I am grateful just for the business.

Soothing the Soul

The Gregorian chant can in a small way put people in a better mood. Who knows?  Someday some poor soul may remember it and think, I heard such beautiful music once in a cab. What was that? I’ve got to find that music. No it wasn’t Buddhist; it had the words Jesus Christo in it. I’ve got to find that music. Then the Hound of Heaven will do his work. Little did they know he had been stalking them the whole time. Peter Kreeft says in Jesus Shock that music can reach us on a deeper level than words. I also play the Gregorian chant, and Polyphony of Palestrina, when I’m in a store or walking. Those hymns came right out of the Liturgy of the Church, and it’s like taking the Mass with me wherever I go.

Only two people have commented on the Gregorian chant, both positively. One was a lady who said she used to meditate to it; the other was a lady going to Mass at The Church of St. Stephen of Hungary on the Upper East Side. As I dropped her off, I felt the Lord was calling me to pray inside, but of course there were no parking places. I used the old cab driver trick of leaving my meter on to make it look like I was dropping off luggage or helping an invalid—well I was, the invalid was me—putting on my hazard lights, and popping my trunk. I ran inside for a short prayer. Thanks be to God, I didn’t get a ticket.

Generally if the passengers want to talk, I turn off the radio and if an opening in the conversation comes up, I try to tell the one-in-seven who may have a drinking or drug problem some things that might help them. I was an A.A. leader in a rehabilitation center for three years. (Some nights it seems like the six who don’t have a problem stayed home that night). I have directed a few to seriously think about their problem and get help. If the subject of drinking or drugging comes up I gently tell anyone that I don’t do it anymore, and why and how I learned how to stop. Any time I talk, the subject of my Catholic Faith and conversion will nearly always come up. I am  excited about my Pastor and Church and I have directed a few to it.

Sadly most riders don’t want to talk. If they start talking on their cell phone, or to each other, I switch to Catholic Talk Radio, because I can’t hear the chants. To hear Mother Angelica founder of EWTN saying on Mornings with Mother, “Today we’re going to talk about Jesus,” puts a smile on my heart; as does Venerable Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen saying on WQOM, “God love you.” “Al Kresta in the Afternoon” on

Ave Maria Radio has fascinating guests such as Teresa Tomeo author of God’s Bucket List and Rodney Stark author of America’s Blessings: How Religion Benefits Everyone, Including Atheists. To have all of these friends in the front seat with me is like having my family with me, and a constant reminder of what is really important. In many instance, you just can’t break into a conversation. At those times I think my little cell phone is saying the words of the Catholic Faith for me. I also think that some passenger just might hear a sentence, or even a word that might have an eternal effect on his soul.

Cell Phone Armor

I am new to having the internet on my cell phone. I am sure most of you will have many more ideas about it than me. But I have found that downloaded Christian music and videos, and TV or radio shows, and writings are an immense comfort and inspiration wherever I go. Whether on a subway or bus or car or walking, I’ve got one of Christ’s soldiers talking or singing to me. Whom shall I fear? I also think that music or audio overheard by passersby also sends them the message that there are people with alternatives to this Culture of Death.

I had a young Asian-American woman in the cab last night who was talking very loud on her cell phone, and really getting on my nerves. But then I heard that she had cut her thumb at work with a box cutter and was coming from the hospital after some stitches. I thought, Hey, are you going to comfort this woman who is  really hurting or just go on stewing about your little irritations and ignoring her, and listening to your Catholic Talk Radio talking about religious persecution in China? Are you a Christian in action, or just word? You have to forgive her right now, even if you don’t feel like it.

So, I turned off the radio, and started talking to her about her accident. She asked me how cab driving was, and I told her it’s very stressful. But the very hardest part is driving someone for half an hour who totally ignores you. I asked her what her first name was, and told her I would pray for her. Her name is Stephaney.

A few hours later, a New York Times editor flagged me down. I had heard Al Kresta that night talking about how the Times had blamed the assassination of President John F. Kennedy at that time on right wing extremists even though the shooter Lee Harvey Oswald was a card carrying Communist. I didn’t bring this up. I want to have rapport with people “to win as many as possible” (1 Corinthians 9:19) for Christ.

She lived in my favorite neighborhood in New York, Brooklyn Heights. It is just across the East River from Manhattan, and is the former home to Walt Whitman, Norman Mailer, Arthur Miller and Bill Wilson the founder of A.A., which was very instrumental in steering me down the straight path, straight to our Lord. We joked about them turning Walt Whitman’s old newspaper building into a condominium. I said, “I hope in homage to him they call it the Walt Whitman Condominium.”

Then I put in a plug for Catholic Stand, and told her about the excellent article on the Kennedy assassination “President John F. Kennedy and Jesus: Face-to-Face Encounters” by John Darrouzet, perhaps one of the best stories ever written about that tragedy, and maybe the Times could use it. That effort could win some people for Christ.

After she left I thought of a hypothetical question to ask her, That Grey Lady (the New York Times) is dying. There’s no job security there. Why don’t you come to work at Catholic Stand where the pay and benefits are incalculably greater—the joy that Christ has promised, and eternal life with him and your loved ones?

Sometimes late at night, alone in the cab, I think the sacred music soaring out of my little cell phone is blessing the people of this town, and I say a little prayer for them too. New York this magnificent, suffering city that forged me and hammered me into the man that I am. This city that stressed me into a desperate need for relief, a relief that only Jesus and his Holy Church could offer. For this will be the city, forever in my mind, where I found Jesus—the greatest event in my life. And for this I will always say, “Thank you, New York.”

© 2013 Jamey Brown.  All Rights Reserved.

Resources

Alcoholics Anonymous