As most readers know, I am not from New York. I am from Belfast, Maine where, as you can imagine, the taxi culture is limited. If you peruse the Yellow Pages, you will find a few taxi companies that service Waldo County, but the companies are usually just folks with a spare station wagon looking to make some extra cash. They cater to the elderly and people whose pick-ups have been repossessed and recent divorcées whose no-good husbands made off with the family car. If you have to call for a cab in Belfast, it’s safe to say that you’re probably a bit down on your luck.
In New York, it is just the opposite. If you are taking a cab in New York, you are probably a bit up on your luck, feeling flush enough to treat yourself to a quiet, private ride rather than taking mass transit. Don’t get me wrong—I adore the New York City subway system. I find it safe, convenient, and an inspiring example of human ingenuity, and I take it 98% of the time. However, every once in a while, when I am very dressed up or very tired or very tipsy, a taxi is a wonderful thing.
I have found, though, that there is a painful disconnect between tourists and taxis, and the situation frustrates me to no end. I hear about it all the time during my tour: how rude taxi drivers are, how they never stop, how they just fly by as if you weren’t even there.
Let me set the record straight. Tourists—it’s not the taxi cabs, it’s you. You are hailing the wrong cabs.
When you watch a television show or a movie that takes place in New York, there is inevitably a scene where a character sticks a hand into the yellow abyss and a cab comes to a frenzied, instant halt. Here’s the thing—it may look like that character is indiscriminately raising a limb, but the truth is that there is a whole series of complex decisions being made in that tiny New York second. I imagine it’s rather like fly fishing; to hook a cab you must be finely attuned to your surroundings, assess a very specific set of atmospheric conditions, and then flick your arm at the precise right moment to reel in the perfect catch.
It's The One!
Look at the top of the cab, where the plastic sign is affixed to the roof. That sign has the cab’s medallion numbers. When the medallion numbers are dark, that cab already has passengers inside. Don’t stick your arm out. When the medallion number in the center of the sign are lit up and the OFF DUTY signs on the sides of the numbers are also lit up, that cab is off duty. That cab driver is on her way home to make dinner for her kids after of a long day of work. Don’t stick your arm out. When the medallion numbers in the center of the sign are lit up and the OFF DUTY signs are dark, that cab is available. Stick away.
So ladies, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, please stop making jokes about how you should have worn a shorter skirt or shown more cleavage. New York is much more democratic than that. Just learn the rules, wear something tasteful, pair it with the shoes that kill your feet, and then go hail your heart out.
Carrie Is a Rules Girl
PS: As I was gathering inspiration for this article, I found a wonderful blog that gets even more detailed about taxi cab etiquette. Check it out HERE and spread the blogging love!
Emily Sproch is a writer and a “Sex and the City” tour guide. Each Friday, she chronicles the fine line between reality and fiction in her column “Almost Carrie.”
ANGELA lynn
NEVER HAILED A CAB, I’M FROM BELFAST, MAINE ,WHERE I NEVER GET DRESSED UP WICKED FANCY OR GO TO BED AFTER 8 O’CLOCK AND FRIDAY NIGHT’S OUR PARTY, (MY HUSBAND,OUR DOG AND I ) STARTS AT 7PM, WHERE I HAVE SHOTS OF WINE IN ICE TEA (THE REAL KIND) AND ICE CUBES. OKAY, MY DRINK OF CHOICE IS AN ABOMINATION. REALISTICALLY,THERE IS NOWHERE WORTH GOING THAT ISN’T IN WALKING DISTANCE, SO THE PRIVILEGE OF A TAXI IS NOT IN OUR REALITY. WE LIKE IT THAT WAY!
emsproch
Certainly didn’t mean to offend you, Angela Lynn. Quite the opposite really. I was pointing out that taxis are often considered “low-class” in rural areas, but in New York that is not the case because so few people own cars. To us, “the privilege” of owning a car is not “in our reality.”
JoAnn Levine
I love Friday’s when I know there will be a clever, thoughtful essay about something interesting in my inbox! Sometimes funny, sometimes sad and today really useful. Thanks Emily!
andrew dainoff
I think ANGELA Lynn is really a fella by the name of Nick…
villagemon
I have a bell from Belfast that rings with every gust and reminds of that fair town. I love Belfast and I love NY Taxis except– the TVs which block my view now that they have moved up into the divider… and the idea that no normal human can own one anymore. Thanks EMS for another great read and for a lesson in the basics.
Laura Boling
I am wildly embarrassed (but feel totally compelled) to admit that, even after 9 years of living in New York, I routinely forget whether the cab light being on means that it’s free or occupied. And I have never found a suitable trick for remembering! (this is likely made more challenging by the fact that I only take cabs like 5 times a year, so it isn’t exactly formost on my mind to concoct a memory device. Then again… it may not matter. It’s like trying to distinguish Left from Right, and when I use that little raise-up-the-“loser”-symbol trick that’s supposed to make it all crystal clear? Yup. I forget which way “L” goes (this legitimately happens to me). Quite possibly I am hopeless — but Em, your blog gives me hope! (mostly because now I know that you are not-so-secretly judging me for my lack of cab-savvy and feel obligated to learn the rules)
Lydia Gravette
excelente recordatorio , hacer las cosas con estilo, gracias