Smokin' Dave's Taxicab Diaries
Jump to:
Smokin' Dave's Taxicab Diaries / Wow, I Almost Killed a Gutter Punk    

Wow, I Almost
Killed a Gutter Punk



Tonight they're closing up the world.
'n sweeping smoke from cigarettes
And what is that funk multi-national anthem
Rocking from a thousand King Kong cassette decks
--The Clash


he A&P supermarket, located on the corner of Royal and St. Peter in the French Quarter, provides a quick and convenient stop for those who need to grab cigarettes or a soft drink, and for residents of the Quarter who need to do a bit of grocery shopping for themselves or their family. Because the store is situated just down the block from Pat O'Brien's nightclub, home of the world-famous "Hurricane" drink, the A&P is also patronized by tourists wanting to pick up rolls of film or maybe a few cheap souvenirs. Of course, wherever there's a large group of people walking around with cash in their pockets, there's also a subgroup who want some of it.

Enter the gutter punks.

Dirty, arrogant, homeless, and wearing frayed clothes, glow-in-the-dark hair, and body piercings from head to toe, these kids are usually runaways who, instead of joining the ranks of the working class, would rather "live an alternative lifestyle". Under other circumstances, I could probably deal with this, but when funding this lifestyle means mooching off the mainstream by begging on a street corner, there's a problem.

On the summer night that I parked the Zebra in front of the A&P, all I wanted to do was drop in and buy a pack of smokes, then go back to work. I exit the cab and, before I got to the store's entrance, I was greeted by about eight of these kids wanting loose change. Ignoring them and shaking my head, I walked into the store.

Yeah, I hit her. Up to that point, I'd never hit a woman in my life, but I popped this one in the jaw so hard, she fell back onto the hood of some dude's Camaro that just happened to be cruising by. The Camaro stopped immediately and, while the dirty chick was trying to make sense of it all, I climbed back into the Zebra and tried to drive off before her friends could climb all over my car.
About three minutes later, when walking out of the store, the street kids again asked for some change. This time, I turned around and told the group, "C'mon, get a job and quit aggravating the people". This is when things began to get a bit ugly.

Immediately, one of the females from the bunch followed me to the cab, spouting off God only knows what. I tried to ignore her. I really did. But as I got into the car, she stood inside the door, preventing me from closing it and driving away.

"Get away from the car", I ordered.

The trash queen remained in her postion, spewing every obscenity she could think of, and even more. What she was trying to accomplish by delivering her fire and brimstone sermon to me, I never found out and didn't care. I just wanted to go back to work.

After repeatedly and loudly ordering her to clear the area, she stood her ground and refused to budge.

So I hit her.



Yeah, I hit her. Up to that point, I'd never hit a woman in my life, but I popped this one in the jaw so hard, she fell back onto the hood of some dude's Camaro that just happened to be cruising by. The Camaro stopped immediately and, while the dirty chick was trying to make sense of it all, I climbed back into the Zebra and tried to drive off before her friends could climb all over my car.

Just when I began to drive off, another female from the group hung onto the front passenger window ledge and began screaming, "I'm gonna kill you!". I hit the gas and kept driving, but she refused to let go. Driving up Royal St., dodging tourists and weaving and slamming on the brakes, I tried to shake this weird chick from the car. She still held on, and continued with her threats.

Three blocks up, she let go of the car. I looked in my rear-view mirror and saw her laying in the street, motionless. "My God", I told myself. "I think the chick's dead." I kept driving.

Ten minutes later, I got a call on my two-way radio that the police want to see me at their station on Royal (about two blocks from where the dirty chick fell off the car). I parked in front and walked up to the top of the steps, where a police officer was waiting to hear my side of the story. Looking past him and into the station, I could see the chick who's threatened my life, alive but bruised, and crying on her boyfriend's shoulder.

Her complaint, surprisingly, wasn't the wild ride she got while hanging on the side of the car. No, apparently, one of the kids told the cops that I pointed my gun at the first chick and threatened to shoot her. The cops questioned me on this for a few minutes and I calmly replied that, although I may have threatened to blow her away, I never pulled my rod. My story was evidently good enough for the cop, so he let me go, and no charges were filed, although he did have the gall to tell me that if I had a problem with these street kids, maybe I shouldn't be shopping at the A&P. I walked down the steps and back to the taxi, shaking my head along the way.

Nowadays, I don't see the gutter punks around too often. There was a group that used to sit on the sidewalk outside Kaldi's coffeehouse on Decatur St., but the place finally closed and the kids moved on. City Hall finally cracked down on the punks, labelling them a public nuisance. Don't know where they've gone, and I don't care. Good riddance.



Previous Entry Next Entry
Site Menu

    Home
    The Taxicab Diaries
    Image Galleries

    Taxicab Forums
    Smokin' Mail
    Site Guestbook
    My Services

    Cool Links
    Dear Cabbie...
    Send Feedback
    Link to This Site!


Check your Smokin' Mail

User Name
Password



YourName@SmokinMail.net.
IT'S FREE!
Sign up here.




Subscribe to my free newsletter! Enter your email address here.

Email address:



Smokin' Dave's Taxicab Diaries / Wow, I Almost Killed a Gutter Punk    

This website and contents copyright ©1997-2001. All rights reserved. Nothing may be used without written permission from Smokin' Dave.