On some nights craziness is just in the air and I wish people could see what I see and feel what I feel. Get inside my head and live what I have lived and see why America is not the model-society for me, and the underside to Western values, and why I do not want many of these values to seep any further into the minds of Muslims. See why I see no reason for Muslims to be on the defensive and every reason for us to be on the offensive.
Summer days for a cabbie in St. Louis are long and hard because this is the slow time of the year and this means that whenever business is poppin you have to work extra hard in order to get your money and so on Saturday night I worked like 20 hours straight well into Sunday with only taking breaks for gas and salat.
I came out late so I could work all night and I got a few short trips and was waiting for the night to really take off and be busted open with a good trip when I got called to do a pickup at a local hospital and take a man to East St. Louis. After waiting in the emergency room driveway with no one coming out I went in angry that whoever I was picking up was probably too lazy to look for the cab and expected me to come in and get them and instead I found a 400 pond middle-aged black man with diabetes whose foot had swollen up to the size of an elephant who could not even get his shoe on and looked like he could barely move and yet he was being discharged from the hospital.
A clean-shaven doctor who from his voice sounded gay ( although with the advent of “metrosexualism” you can never really tell) told me that this was my passenger and that he was being discharged and that he would send an orderly to help him get in the cab and momentarily a young black guy with long braids came out to help the man get in the cab and it still took him like 15 minutes to get in because the man was so weak that he could not even stand or move himself a few inches. When I asked what seemed like a normal question ” how is he going to get out of the cab once we get to East St. Louis” the hospital people gave me a mean look and the guy said the “people hanging out on the porch will help me” whatever that meant.”
While this was going on a car rushed into the driveway and came within inches of hitting me and it was full of young black kids dressed like gang-bangers and they jumped out and pulled a blood-soaked young light-skinned guy out of the Old School Chevy and the hospital police and EMT’s responded in a well-rehearsed drill they had been through many times at the arrival of gunshot victims. Personally, when I saw this, I was really in a hurry to get the hell out of there because whoever had fired the shorts to begin with may want to show up at the hospital and finish the job they started and shoot me on accident.
It had been over 100 degrees all week with high humidity and the heat remained in the 90’s even into the night and people from St. Louis who know the streets will tell you that when temperatures get that high tempers are short and bodies start dropping so I was not the least bit surprised to see this young gang-banger shot and will be surprised if it gets any media attention in print because it does not go along with the safe image of St. Louis they are trying to promote in order to entice yuppies to move into the city as part of the Negro-removal program of the urban liberal globos.
The ride over to East Boogie was straight and sweet and the guy just lived off of State Street on 37th so it was not hard to get to but no cabbie likes going to East St. Louis beyond the Casino Queen if we do not have to because it is dark, lawless, and the roads are in poor condition. In other words maybe it is something like the American-version of the Western Frontier Province in Pakistan ( minus honor killings and inbreeding and plus baby mammas and street hookers) The problem occurred because there was nobody to wait for us when we got there and the guy could not even move a few inches to get out of the cab so I had to pick up this 400 pond man and pull him out of the cab and then try and carry him up the steps into his home and he was just too heavy and he fell on the sidewalk.
After a few minutes of not knowing what to do I called 911 and they dispatched the police and ambulance but because this was the East Side I knew they would take all day and as we were waiting a crowd of gang-bangers and hoochie mammas gathered around joined by some families members from inside the home who suddenly appeared ( but were nowhere to be found when I needed help) and I have to be honest I was not crazy about the situation I found myself in but had been told by my dispatcher to wait until the ambulance or police arrived to leave. When I guy in a suit and a badge form work showed up it kind of eased my mind because he seemed to be like a neighborhood elder or something, the kind of black man that is a respected figure in many urban neighborhoods and a role model that many of the young can gravitate to, and he came over to me and talked to me, and told the man that had been in my cab that he needs to go and live in a facility and he will help him get into one.
When the ambulance did arrive 45 minutes later I could not help but wonder what would have happened if this man was in desperate need of medical care and an ambulance took this long to come? Or about why this man was discharged from one of the Top-ten ranked hospitals in the country in this condition? I would have loved to have had one of those who defended the health-care system and attacked the Michael Moore film Sicko, like Sanjay Gupta, in my cab at this time. Because what I saw in this man was a living example of how f***** our system is and of how f***** our diets are that we can eat ourselves into that condition and, even if this were not the case, a poor man like this can expect no real help from our sick-care system.
A few trips later I was leaving Lacledes Landing on a desolate strip of Chouteau Street when I man who looked to be in a bad condition came running towards my cab on my side and I turned to head off any attack and was more then ready and able to send him to Yam-ul-Qayam when I realized he just wanted a ride and he got in and I put the car in reverse to get the girl he was with. The guy had been beaten up at a club and was in need of a ride home and his girl, who was more than half-naked was consoling him in my backseat in a way that is not for basic cable if you know what I mean and I’m not sure if that is better or worse then the girl the night before who repeatedly punched and bit her boyfriend because he told some girl at the club she had a nice ass. Thankfully for me they were going far, out to Collinsville, and they were pleasant and from that point on things just started rolling and I got good trips left and right and the money began stacking up until I got tired but could not go to sleep because I promised a Muslim brother I would go to his place for a BBQ.
In the morning I took old ladies to church and had to turn off of NPR because of my disgust at these secular liberals who emailed the show at their outrage and sheer disgust with wealthy families who decided to have a lot of kids ( and in that antidote right here we an see that their values are totally incompatible with those of Muslims) and listened to the Freeman Bosley. Jr. show where I heard “George Bush needs Jesus” before taking it in to write this article before going to the BBQ.
No days in St. Louis are that great, and this is ten times more true for a Muslim, but some days are better than others and are pretty good. In that respect living here, being a Muslim, writing and driving a cab in all of this isolation and racial division is kind of like being a .250 hitter in baseball who can hit .300 during a month every now and then but will then go .190 just to remind you what he is all about.
New York on the other hand is a city where you can feel like Ted Williams on some days, the last .400 hitter, as you are surrounded by so much beauty, diversity, energy, and creativity ; but on a bad day New York can make you feel worse than a .250 hitter, more like Bill Buckner in the 1986 World Series.