Friday, April 15, 2005

Black Car Blues - A Play in One Act

The setting: A black car, or "gypsy cab" driving from East Harlem to Midtown.
The players: Carolyn, a 20-something girl, chubby, dressed all in black with wild hair. She looks tired. Driver, a 30-something Hispanic guy, wearing a GAP baseball cap, fake Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses, black long-sleeve T and jeans.

Carolyn: Hey, Park and 48th please. You can just make a left on Park.

(silence)

Carolyn: (quietly, to herself, in response to traffic) Jesus.

Driver: You go to work?

Carolyn: Yep.

Driver: You late?

Carolyn: Of course. Nobody takes a cab when they're on time...

Driver: (chuckles)

(Carolyn puts her left leg up on the seat, pulls out her makeup bag and starts applying.)

(silence)

Carolyn: Oh! That guy just ran a red light!

Driver: Friday morning huh?

Carolyn: Yep.

Driver: Traffic is not so bad.

Carolyn: Nope.

Driver: Maybe it's traffic up ahead.

Carolyn: Don't say that! (Playfully taps driver on the shoulder.)

Driver: (chuckles)

Carolyn: It's Friday, maybe everybody is on vacation.

Driver: Vacation? Why?

Carolyn: Cuz they're rich! Every weekend is a vacation to them.

Driver: I think you rich.

Carolyn: What?!

Driver: Yes, I think you rich but you want to be richer.

Carolyn: No way, dude. I am not even close to rich.

Driver: You work on Park Ave. You must be rich.

Carolyn: Dude, I just started working on Park Ave. and I make as much or as little there as I would anywhere else in the city. What makes you think I'm rich?

Driver: You work every day, you make lots of money. You rich.

Carolyn: Dude, I bet you make more money than me - or at least as much as me, let's put it that way.

Driver: No.

Carolyn: No, I bet you do. And it's seriously annoying that you keep saying that you think I'm rich just because I'm sitting in the back of your cab.

Driver: I think you make $2,000 a week.

Carolyn: Ha! I don't even make anywhere near that! Not even close.

Driver: I make $1,000 a week.

Carolyn: Well then, you make twice as much as me.

Driver: I don't believe you.

Carolyn: Well, it's true. Which lets me know that I should probably just drive cab for a living. And so should you...

(silence)

Carolyn: (voice-over) Why don't I ever take the subway? Rich?! I work on Park Ave.? So does the hot dog cart guy - and he probably makes more than me, too! Jesus! He picked me up in East Harlem, how fucking rich can I be? He makes twice as much as me and he's insulting me? Just because I'm white does not mean I'm rich. This is why people hate other people, because they assume things. I am so offended. This guy is a dick. I am as down-to-earth as they come. My sneakers are melted on the heel from stepping on a hot grate and you can see it and I don't care! I'm putting cover girl powder on my zits in the back of a cab! I'm not rich. This guy is a dick.

Carolyn: (out loud) The other side of 49th Street is fine.

Driver: Here?

Carolyn: Yep. (Hands him a $20.) Can I get $5 back?

Driver: See! You rich!

Carolyn: I'll take $6 back - that's how much it would cost in a regular cab.

Driver: You rich! You spend lots of money! You rich! Ha ha ha!

Carolyn: (shakes her head and sort-of laughs as she exits) (voice-over) You're a dick.

(Carolyn closes car door, pulls piece of cat hair off her $10 t-shirt, buys coffee and egg sandwich from cart guy, enters large investment bank.)

Carolyn: (quietly, to herself) Fuck.