Can't find the trees for the forest

When I'm out on the trike I'm always on the lookout for people standing on street corners looking lost. If I don't manage to pick up a ride, I'll at least try to leave our guests with a  impression that New Orleanians are friendly, helpful folks.

Yesterday I spotted a couple who looked like suitable targets, so I stopped to offer my assistance.

"We're just looking for a bar," they said.

"Which one?" I asked.

"No particular one. Just someplace to get a drink. "

Nice! Since my grade school days I've always had an overwhelming preference for easy questions over hard ones, and I'd be hard pressed to imagine an easier question in any field than, "Where do I go to get a drink in the French Quarter?"

Did I mention that we were just a block off Bourbon? Yep. A single city block. Even if I had managed to sell them a ride, it would have been a very, very short ride!

A couple of hours later, I came across another clueless-looking couple on a corner just a couple of blocks distant from the earlier encounter.

"Can I help you find anything?" I asked.

"Yes! We're so glad you came along! We've between walking for six blocks looking for a bar and we haven't seen anything. Where's the closest place to sit down and relax and get a drink?"

I helpfully pointed out a couple of bars within spitting distance, including one that they had passed just half a block back.

Today I've decided to do an experiment. As I'm riding around looking for riders, I'd like to see if it's even theoretically possible to go six contiguous blocks in the French Quarter without passing a single bar. I'll let you know how it turns out.

In which the Crescent City Pedicabby is forced to question his life choices

Coop's Place is a cool little dive bar/restaurant on Decatur Street in the lower French Quarter. Their signature dish is a jambalaya with rabbit meat. Back in February comedian Hannibal Buress went on the tonight show and did this delightful little monologue about New Orleans. In the course of his performance Hannibal told a story about Coop's involving an encounter with a rat in the restroom.

Here's the crazy part: For a month or two after Hannibal Burress' tonight show appearance every time I rolled past Coop's there was a line halfway down the block! 

I have to say that this precipitated a bit of a personal crisis for me. I have a bachelor of arts degree in public relations for which my parents and I spent a considerable sum of money. All these years later I discover that public relations is much simpler than my professors tried to make it. Apparently, all you have to do is start a rumor about a rat in the restroom and the public will beat a path to your door!

On a more serious note, I really hope that you will click on the link to Hannibal's Tonight Show performance because it deserves to be heard in full. If you take the time to watch the clip you will hear Coop's defense -- which is essentially that given the age of the buildings and the proximity to the Mississippi River there isn't a five star restaurant in the Quarter that doesn't have rats. Fair enough. Personally, I eat at Coop's and don't hesitate to recommend it to others.

My policy

If I'm going to rent a place that comes with roommates, they better be helping pay the rent!

Driving the mule by day, being the mule at night

Swinging both ways

Not long ago I was out on the big yellow trike, and I ran into a guy who had recently started pedicabbing for one of the other companies. He looked at me, did a double-take, and blurted out, "Didn't I see you earlier today on the mule carriage?"

"Yes, it's true," I said, amused at the look of amazement on his face. "I swing both ways!"

It's noteworthy that in New Orleans of all places, where almost nothing is shocking, my career combination strikes people as being so strange. New Orleans is notorious for cops moonlighting as robbers -- or vice versa. But a carriage driver who also drives a pedicab? Now that's just weird!

Bad blood

The mule carriage and taxicab companies fought tooth and nail to prevent the introduction of pedicabs to New Orleans. There was a two-and-a-half year legal battle before the city finally passed a law allowing pedicabs to operate. As a concession to the carriage companies, pedicabbies were forbidden to do tours -- even if they were licensed tour guides. The bitter aftertaste of that legal battle still lingers. (See here for a reference in one of my early blog posts to carriage drivers as "the enemy".) Both sets of colleagues constantly complain to me about the a**holes on the other side.

There are current points of conflict as well. One frequent flash point is the intersection of Saint Ann and Decatur in front of Cafe du Monde. Technically it's illegal to do a U-turn there, but there's a kind of understanding between mule drivers and the police that we have to be able to do a U-turn in order to do our jobs -- with the added understanding that we have to be extra careful not to run over pedestrians in the crosswalk or run into cars. On the other hand, it's technically illegal for pedicabs to park at that intersection (or anywhere else for that matter), but there's a kind of understanding between pedicabbies and the police that we really need to be able to park there sometimes in order to do our jobs -- with the added understanding that we have to be extra careful not to block pedestrians or the handicapped parking spot. Pedicabs and carriages often get in one another's way at this intersection, and whenever this happens both parties protest vociferously that the police aren't enforcing the law on those a**holes on the other side.

There is a general perception on the part of my colleagues on both sides that the police are lenient toward "them" and strict on "us". Neither side has trouble finding ammo.

Exhibit A: There are strict municipal dress codes for both buggy drivers and pedicabbies. Pedicabbies are sometimes levied outrageous fines for offenses as trivial as wearing a baseball cap that is not an official part of the uniform. Buggy drivers, on the other hand flaunt the dress code day in and day out with complete impunity.

Exhibit B: The police routinely harass and fine mule carriage drivers for being illegally parked. They rarely bother pedicabbies for the same offense. (Some carriage drivers claim that pedicabbies never get tickets for illegal parking, but this is definitely not true.)

I don't want to make things sound worse than they are. There are plenty of pleasant exchanges between carriage drivers and pedicabbies. A lot of carriage drivers regularly ride on pedicabs -- and not just mine. I can hear my colleagues on both sides saying, "I really don't have anything against them. It's just that..." But the way I see it, as long as everybody feels obligated to tack on that "It's-just-that..." disclaimer, the situation has plenty of room for improvement.

How it happened

I began pedicabbing in November 2011. One day, not long after starting the job, I was pedaling past a mule-drawn carriage parked at the corner of Bourbon and St. Phillip, and I heard the driver call out my name. I turned around to see an old friend from my church youth group sitting in the driver's seat of the carriage. We hadn't seen one another in more than 25 years.

I'm sure that we must have said some of the normal things that you always say when you run into an old friend with whom you had lost contact many years ago. (Great to see you again! What have you been up to all these years? Looking good!) But to tell the truth, I don't remember any of that. All I remember was his blunt question: "Why are you doing that and not this?"

"Why should I be doing that?" I countered. "I LOVE pedicabbing!"

Over the next couple of months as my friend and I renewed our acquaintance he told me more about his job and why he enjoyed it so much. Meanwhile I was starting to realize that, as much as I loved pedicabbing, I wasn't making enough money at it to support my family, especially given the fact that we were starting a new life in a new place.

I started driving the mule carriage in May. These days I drive the carriage five days a week and the pedicab 2-3 nights a week. I recognize that I can't keep up this kind of pace forever, but right now I really need the income from both jobs. Even if I didn't need the money, I would have a very hard time giving up the pedicab because I enjoy it so much.

Being a bridge

During my years in the Balkans, I always hoped to be a force for understanding and reconciliation. I would like to think that I had some kind of small-scale impact. I'd like to think that... Anyway, having failed to bring a deep and lasting peace between Albanians and Serbs, maybe I'm ready to take on a more manageable project.

Not that I'm claiming to be unbiased. One thing I've learned in life is that nobody is ever unbiased. In practical terms, I probably have much more in common with the carriage drivers; but emotionally I identify much more strongly with the pedicabbies. At any rate, I walk in both worlds, and I have a unique perspective.

Night before last I went to a concert and brought a fellow buggy driver along with me. One of my pedicab colleagues was a member of the group that was performing, and there were a couple of other pedicabbies who turned out to hear her sing as well. After it was over, all of us -- pedicabbies, the other buggy driver, and me -- went out for drinks, and we had a wonderful time. This might have been a first.

If anybody knows anybody on the committee for the Nobel Peace Prize, feel free to drop my name!

French Quarter conversations, mostly crude

Male passenger A: My friend here puked in a taxi last night.
Male passenger B: Yeah! The driver made me pay $100.
Male passenger A: How much do you charge if we throw up on your bike?
Note: I thought about this later and concluded that the taxi driver was more than justified.  If it happened to me -- and I'm thinking that sooner or later it's bound to -- I believe that I would definitely be entitled to compensation (though whether I would have the guts to demand it is another question.) On a good night being forced to head back to the shop to wash down the bike could cost me $50 or $60 in lost fares. For an auto taxi there's also the expense of cleaning upholstery of course. 

Drunk girl staggers across the street in front of me, holding up her hand for me to stop. Her eyes swimming into focus, she sees my female passengers and addresses them:
 "All men suck! Even the gay ones."
Note: My passengers seemed to think that this was the funniest thing they had ever heard. When I safely delivered them to their destination, one of them said, "Wow, we found a man who doesn't suck! And he's not even gay."

Obese transvestite to me: What are you doing after you get off work?
Me: Going home to my beautiful wife.
Obese transvestite: Can I come?

Drunk female passenger to me: Can I touch your ass?
Her slightly soberer (and very embarrassed) date: No, you can't touch his ass!

Me to fortune teller on the street: How's it going?
Fortune teller: Terrible. I haven't had a single customer all day! I'm waiting and hoping for just one so I can get enough money for beer and cigarettes and go home.
Me: Sorry to hear you're having such a bad day. But you must have seen it coming, right?
Note: I know, that was a real cheap shot. I just couldn't resist.


Me to female passenger: I'm blogging about my job. So if you say something interesting, you might see yourself quoted online.
Female passenger: I was told once that my vagina has a hood.

Me to male passenger (from Mississippi if I remember right): I'm blogging about my job. So if you say something interesting, you might see yourself quoted online.
Male passenger: I shot a deer last week.

Perfecting the 3-second sales pitch

Night and day

Today was better than yesterday but still painfully slow. I mentioned in yesterday's post that it's much easier to make good money at night. There are certainly more tourists out and about in the Quarter after dark; but I'm starting to wonder whether there isn't another factor at work beyond sheer numbers. I've noticed that the people that I approach act differently in the daytime than they do at night.

Day or night, the vast majority of them decline my offer of a ride, of course. But they don't decline it in the same way. After sundown, if I say to someone, "Would you like a ride?", he's likely to look at me with a big smile and say, "No thanks. We're good!"; whereas, in the daytime, he'll probably look away, scowl, and shake his head no. What's up with that?

At least a smile

Challenging days like these give me more opportunity to perfect my 3-second sales pitch. I'm constantly experimenting with endless variations on a basic theme:

"Need a ride?"
"Would you care for a ride?"
"Wanna ride?"
"Would you like a lift?"
"Care for a lift?"
"Who's ready to ride?"

Getting people on the bike is the goal of course, but failing that I hope to at least get them to smile. Sometimes the border between being funny and obnoxious is pretty thin. Here are some the things I might say:

"Take a trip on my magic chariot!"

To the male half of a couple: "What kind of a gentleman are you making a lovely lady like that walk?"

To someone who looks overweight and tired: "Ready to get off your feet for a bit?"

To a parent with a child: "I'll bet the little fellow there would like a ride!" (Kids always want to ride. Sometimes I'll address the kid directly, and the kid will say, "Yes!" In these cases I don't get very many smiles from the parents. They look at me with spitting cobra eyes and say, "No thank you!" in such a way that you know the "thank you" wasn't at all sincere before turning their attention to comforting the bitterly disappointed tot.)

To girls in stilettos: "Aren't you ready to get off those heels?" (All joking aside, alcohol, high heels, and the broken pavement of the French Quarter streets are a dangerous combination. I see girls stumbling and falling  all the time. I played ambulance driver last week to a girl who had twisted her ankle badly. She was celebrating her 24th birthday, poor thing.)

To someone sitting on a bench: "Hey, you could be resting and moving at the same time!"

To people emerging from the convention center when I know that there's a teachers conference going on: "We've got discounts for teachers today!" (We generally let people pay whatever they want for anything under 20 minutes, so the discount is whatever they want it to be.)

One of my biggest challenges is that I can only take two passengers or three at the most. Packs of four or more tourists seem a lot more common than couples. Here's a common scenario:

Me to a group of six tourists: "Anybody ready for a ride?"
One of the six (laughing): "Can you take all of us?"
Me: "I can take the two tiredest!"

This rarely fails to get a smile.

My first night on the job a prostitute called out to me as I rode by: "Hey baby, where you going?" I guess she was working on her 3-second sales pitch too.