Hookers, The Bottom Line, And Drinkers.

Day 19-23

I think, by reference to the bar I was at and the beer I drank, I've identified what day it was I left off on; Saturday. And you can take a flying leap if you think my grammar suxxors. No offense, mom, dad, oma, others who were offended by this. Yes, good way to start a blog entry by telling everyone to fuck off. Very professional.

I was excited by the relatively good number I put up on Thursday and Friday compared to the rest of the pedicabbers who went out, so on Saturday I was on a mission. Unfortunately that mission was to go keep the peace in Sweden, several Swedes have been sticking their tongues out at each other. I went out at 4, setting a goal to make $200, and I jockied around, stayed upbeat, had attitude adjustment hours when necessary, ate ice cream...anything I could do to stay happy and positive, but nothing could stop the tide from going out. It was as if the only reason people were still in town was to come back and collect their belongings from a town they deserted, have dinner, and say goodbye to their precious yachts. Foolish pedicabbers, don't you know this is a ghost town? I finally quit at 12, and that was after I earned $20 for a STUPIDLY long ride. My grand 8 hour total: $54. Less than $7 an hour, not to mention I had purchased food and ice cream. I have a college degree, I'm a champion. But, I am patient, and I'm willing to wait until the big money comes 'a rollin in. Besides, the Superbowl contenders were still not yet confirmed.

I went back to SoBe and met up my roommate Ken at the Playwright, an Irish tavern of ya-dude proportions, with a Latin flavor, since, after all, Miami is the capitol of South America. Two stand-out moments from this visit. First was this bleached blond, faked out, Hispanic lady of the night or total slut coming up to me and just pressing herself into me as she ran through all the introductory conversational formalities. Almost as if someone were to approach you in Copley Square and say, "Hi, I'm Deborah. I have amazing fake tits. What's your name? I have amazing fake tits, they are touching you now. Where are you from, Dan? Aren't these tits amazing? They are also fake." Of course, the magic dissipates when you speak it openly, but my gist, I believe, is sufficiently suggested. Secondly, was a guy from Oklahoma who just loved the Red Sox and everything Boston, was sitting with 8 women, and neglected all of them to talk baseball. Once he heard I was going through Oklahoma on my trip, he insisted we trade numbers and party when I arrive. All of this conversation taking place at the same distance at which I met my friend Deborah. Did I mention she has...nevermind. A few minutes later, some dude was eating her neck right at the bar. I can only imagine that it ended up costing him some $150-300 for the services he was hurtling towards. At least that's what I imagine she would charge. Hooked!

Sunday was only interesting for hanging out and football, and the only things I hung on to in the NFL at this point were the Jets and Brett Favre, and both of these were defeated. Better this way, I suppose since I'll be ambivalent about the outcome when the Superbowl actually rolls around, and I'll potentially focus more on work.

Mike and I did another ride on Monday up to Aventura, a sly little 20 miler or something. We went by the place I almost moved into, fuck it kindly, and then back to have a little afternoon beer.

I've picked back up on 24 thanks to Hulu. I'm all caught up. The 24 drinking game would have been rough in last week's episode. The rules? Oh, you drink when they say "Jack" or "Bauer" or "Jack Bauer" and drink an entire beer/do a shot when Jack says, "Damnit" or when someone gets shot only in the leg.

On Tuesday, I put up perhaps the first 0-fer of my pedicab career. Dead, dead city. The Ghost town, fully deserted, businesses praying for old people to waddle in. It's actually seriously sad how many restaurants around here are on the verge of total collapse. The only good thing that cam out of it was that I settled a row I had with another driver. On Friday after my best night here so far, I ordered pizza to eat with another rider, Sean. We were quoted a 45 minute delivery time, so we continued pulling rides for a while, and making our way back to the shop. About 25 minutes later, I get a phone call about the pizza being there, so I hurry back-only 3 minutes away anyhow, but when I get back, this guy Irish Dean is there with the pizza guy eating a slice of my pizza! I was incredulous, and amped up from hustling over a giant bridge, so naturally I overreacted. He called me a "fucking cunt" and talked trash about me for the night, and I reasoned my side out to others that I asked him for money for me and Sean for the $25 (tip incl) pizza we just bought. More of a point of humor now, anyway. This guy is a rip roarin' heckuva pedicabber, New York hustlin'.

Yesterday there was a meeting for all the people riding the Probowl and the Superbowl. I am relieved I was invited, because it sealed my spot in the ranks. That's the good news. The bad news is that between this week and next week including the games, they want $1000 in rent. That means if I make $3000, they'll want 33% Some pedicab vacation. Sounds like a pedicab time-share scam. (These opinions are not the actual opinions of Dan Kerrigan) It will be hard, but some guys are talking about making over $1000 at the Superbowl. In fact, I was talking records with Irish Dean and he was saying you could do $1500 at the Superbowl, and that some guy in NYC had put up numbers like $2400 in one day, and second place was something like $1986!! We are charging rates for the games, and these days are epic shifts. If you take 30 rides in a Red Sox game, you would hope you could walk home with $200 in about 5 or 6 hours. We arrive at 9 am, parking at the Probowl starts at 10am and the game starts at 7. It is a theoretical possibility with the rates we have, that I could take 40 rides at $40 each. Or 60 rides at an average of $25. Suffice it to say, I'm motherfucking amped to work my ever living balls off. The next two Mondays will be very nice days off.

I live so close to Lincoln Road, and the experience of traversing it so often greatly stimulates the senses. Leather rushes out of designer stores, bombshells tend to the host booths in front of restaurants with menus in hand like a paladin's battle shield, and eyelashes that slash your desire for cheap Thai into myriad, longing pangs for thick Italian luncheon with an attractive pitch girl. Weirdos beg for change simply because they have turned their jukeboxes to the "on" mode and give you the gift of music, something that never naturally happens. Matched, mismatched, and unmatched couples bogart the sidewalks, assault your personal space, and remind you of New York City. Sometimes they call it "The Sixth Borough" I'd believe it if I could find a decent slice of pizza or a fucking bagel that satisfied ANYWHERE around here. Mmmm pizza bagel.

As I write this up, fat guy on scooter outside waves and tries to chat up three attractive ladies, to be completely ignored. He did not have a purty mouth, and I imagine the words coming out also fell short of comely.

I like it here OK, but now it's feeling like a better place that I'm going to work and I have function and purpose (to build some bank) but it doesn't quite satisfy entirely as a place I'd home up. Unless of course, I were old. Pedicabbers here are awesome, just as most pedicabbers are anywhere. They party hard, hate the morning, love their jobs and also enjoy creating impressions of other pedicabbers. Despite the cool guys, and the impending cash influx, I'm looking forward to Austin, and trying not to even think about Mardi Gras, so my mind will hopefully be completely blown.

Longshot spends a lot of time watching trains go by outside the shop, and dodging parking violations on the streets of South Beach. She's running wonderfully. I'm due to check the oil in the next few days, see what kind of leakage is actually occurring.

I had a pretty good Wednesday night last night, prestiged a buck forty from what many found to be a dead day/night. Managed to hit the beach, stayed sunny enough. I packed my towel and trunks into the pedicab. What a great deal I've got right now. Gave two British girls a ride, sayin they want to hang out in South Beach tonight. I'm pessimistic. Or maybe just realistic. Gotta go make the ducat now, it's almost rush hour and I have to slip in under heavy, sure-fire accident city o'clock on 95 North.

Statistics:
41 minute average commute time
$2.71/gallon of gas ($2.69 if ya know where to look!)
2 attempts to tan oft-unexposed sections of my body (not my genitals)
2 times I saw a girl with blue hair in Fort Lauderdale that I curiously leered at in The Abbey in Miami Beach
$49 on food shopping since I now have a refrigerator in which to store foodstuffs.
I don't know, what's 7x7? The question/answer I'd quip back at my Dr. if they asked me how many alcoholic beverages I've been having-These are special times. Yes, I know it's a lot right now and it's got to be adjusted. I have a feeling LA is going to force that change upon me, with all the driving.
2 times I paid for coffee in the past week-exploiting that Starbucks refill policy.
4 visits to Kilwin's ice cream, chocolates, and fudge shoppe. It's addictive?

Beers from...

Day 19

109 St Bernardus Prior 8 @shop
110 Unibroue Maudite
111 Harp draught @Playwright
112 Harp draught
113 Harp draught
114 Abbey Immaculate IPA @The Abbey

Day 20

115 Bud lite ($1) @Felt
116 bud lite
117 bud lite
118 Sam Adams Noble Pils @Marsh's
119 Maudite
120 Maudite
121 St Peter's IPA
122 Maudite

Day 21

123 Immaculate IPA @The Abbey
124 Stoudts Double IPA
125 Anchor Liberty IPA
126 Dogfish Head 60 min IPA @home

Day 22

127 Presidente @ shop
128 Presidente
129 Presidente
130 Bud draft ($1.50) @Grady's (What a dump! Right near the shop!)
131 Bud draft

Next update after the Probowl...