The pedicab community comes to the aid of our colleague Christian with boiled crawfish

I have a pedicab colleague named Christian who splits his time between riding the trike and community organizing. He's one of the kindest and most conscientious people I've ever met. I don't think I've ever heard anyone say a bad word about him... On second thought, I take that back. I might have heard people make fun of him for his argyle socks. I, uh... might have even participated a time or two. Also, I think I heard someone mention once or twice that Christian has a bad habit of undercharging customers.

Whenever I'm driving the mule carriage I enjoy engaging in teasing banter with my fellow pedicabbies. For example, one of them rides by with a fare, and I call out to him, "Hey, I wouldn't go that way if I were you! I think I saw your parole officer down there." Or I offer my whip to the passengers: "Do y'all need to borrow this?" That one usually gets a big laugh. Often when I'm on a tour and I pass a pedicab, I point out the driver to my riders and say, "See that folks? That's the second best pedicabbie in the city of New Orleans!"

Some of my colleagues have heard this enough that they have a ready response. One of them likes to say, "Yeah, and that's Mark, the third worst carriage driver in the city!" Christian also has a comeback ready. He smiles, waves and says, "Second only to you, sir!" And he says this sweetly and sincerely without the slightest touch of sarcasm, which ends up embarrassing  me and ruining the joke. But his intention is not to embarrass me or ruin my joke. He's just being his sweet, sincere self.

It would seem that he's truly living up to the teachings of the one whose name he bears: "Bless those who curse you." The funny thing is that Christian isn't a Christian. He's an avowed atheist. Next time I hear someone questioning whether it's possible to be good without God, I'm going to say, "Can I introduce you to my friend Christian?" You can define "good" in such a way as to exclude Christian if you want to, but only at the price of robbing the word of any real meaning.

Lately, when Christian and I pass one another -- he on the pedicab and I on the carriage -- I've taken to using a different line. "Look there, folks!" I tell my tourists. "Do you see that? That right there, folks, is a rolling oxymoron! That's Christian the atheist."

A few weeks ago I had the horrifying experience of riding by just in time to see an airport shuttle bus hit Christian's pedicab. His passengers managed to stay seated somehow, but Christian was ejected and landed hard in the street. There were plenty of people around to help, and there was no way I could abandon a 1,500 pound mule and a wagon load of tourists, so I had to keep going. As soon as I got to a stopping place I called the owner of the pedicab company to inform him of what I had seen and tried to call Christian to ask if he was OK. He got back to me later that day. He had been to the emergency room, he said. He was a bit banged up and sore, but there didn't seem to be anything broken.

Christian was back on the pedicab within a couple of days, but he kept having trouble with his wrist.  Last week he went back to the doctor and discovered that the wrist had been broken all along. Now it's all bandaged up, and he's not going to be able to work for the next couple weeks.

Day before yesterday we had a big crawfish boil benefit for Christian to help him pay medical bills and make up for missed income. There must have been nearly a hundred of us who turned out -- pedicabbies and a few other friends. We all stuffed bills into a big jar. You hear the word "community" thrown around a lot these days, but I saw for myself that the pedicab community in New Orleans is a community in the truest sense of the word, and I'm proud to be part of it.

The event was held high atop the roof of the parking garage that serves as the headquarters for Bike Taxi Unlimited. The weather was perfect. As the afternoon waned, the rooftops and steeples below us were bathed in golden light. Even the infamous Iberville Housing, Project which is overdue for demolition, took on a transcendent beauty at that moment. Then I watched as the the sun set over the city, and the lights came on along Canal St.

Someone commented that the whole rooftop scene looked like a Bud Light commercial. This was a bit ironic because Christian is actually a teetotaler. (Vegetarian and vegan pedicabbies are a dime a dozen, but those who totally abstain from alcohol are exceedingly rare.) Irony notwithstanding, the observation was on target. Attractive young people dancing, laughing, and flirting. Music. Food. A beautiful and slightly edgy urban setting. If Bud Light had been there to record this scene, they probably could have used the footage to sell boatloads of beer.

There would have only been two issues: Number one, there was a lot more Abita Amber than Bud Light in evidence. And secondly, there was that one 47-year-old guy bent over with a bad back. It was like the old Sesame Street game: "One of These Things Is not Like the Others". I pictured the director of the beer commercial yelling:  "Hey, who the *&^@ let that guy get in here? Can we get the *^&$@& hunchback out of the shot, please?" And I was happy that there wasn't any director or anybody else saying that. Maybe I didn't belong, but nobody seemed to be noticing. I was sharing a good time with good friends in a beautiful place -- and all for a good cause. Life has far too few moments like these.

I only regret that Christian's misfortune had to be the occasion of our festivities. Speedy recovery, Christian. Hope to see you back on the bike soon!