At Superdome events the 3-second sales pitch doesn't matter so much because it's not hard to get passengers on the bike. The key to success in these kinds of situations is speed.
At Superdome events pedicabs have an advantage over cars. Before and after the game, traffic is typically backed up along Poydras (the main Superdome access street) but rickshaws can keep moving by threading in and out of the stalled lines of cars. (If this sounds dangerous, remember the cars aren't moving. The biggest danger is a scratched fender.) Police direct traffic at all the intersections; naturally they give priority to pedestrians, which is why the cars spend so much time stationary. Sometimes the police allow us to cross with the folk on foot so that we can leave a line of cars behind at an intersection and sprint ahead till we reach the next bunch of immobile automobiles, at which point we start weaving in and out again.
In these situations most of my colleagues have an advantage over me. They tend to be a lot younger and bolder (or more reckeless) than me. Even apart from the age issue, I've always had a kind of handicap when it comes to spatial awareness. This means that the other drivers are typically willing to squeeze through spaces between cars that I'm much too timid to attempt. Whenever we get a little bit of open road, I try to make up for lost time by out-sprinting them. I can never resist talking a little smack as I blow by: "Come on! Is that the best you can do? You know you're half my age!" (Which is often literally true.)
There are three pedicab companies in New Orleans, each of which can legally have up to 15 bikes on the road at a time. Saints games are pretty much the only time when all three companies make every effort to get their maximum number of bikes out there -- which means close to 45 rickshaws plying Poydras.
Before working my first game I wondered what would happen once the last stragglers were inside the Dome. Would 45 pedicabs be cruising up and down deserted streets like vultures watching a healthy herd hoping for something to die? Turns out I was right in one way. The streets were definitely deserted -- much more so than I had imagined in fact. The French Quarter looked as though the city's population had perished in some terrible plague. Buildings were standing, lights were on, but no one was moving. (I should note that this was a Monday night game; on a weekend it would have been another story.)
I should have known that my fellow pedicabbies were much too wise to waste their time patrolling cold, empty streets. I saw their bikes parked outside various bars and restaurants where presumably they sat in warmth and comfort watching the game on big screens. Felipe's Taqueria seemed to be the favorite pedicabbie haunt judging by the collection of rickshaws parked outside.
I rode around for a while, pausing from time to time outside bars where the broadcast was blaring through open doors and windows in order to follow the progress of the game. Finally I gave up on picking up passengers and went to the Clover Grill on Bourbon Street where ordered a hamburger and settled into a booth to thaw my bones and watch the game on TV. I was the only customer in the restaurant. Next time I may join my colleagues at Felipe's or somewhere else, but on this occasion I enjoyed the solitude.
I headed back toward the Dome for the third quarter, which turned out to be a good decision. The Saints won a lopsided victory over the Giants, and it turns out that lopsided victories favor our profession. When the outcome of a game is decided relatively early, people start trickling out of the Superdome, which gives us more time to pick up riders. From now on I'll be cheering for the Saints to win every home game by halftime.
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