Taxi Driver: Wizard's Speech

FADE TO: About 1 a.m. TRAVIS pulls his cab behind a line of empty taxis parked outside the Bellmore Cafeteria, a cabbie hangout on Park Avenue South. He locks his cab and walks past the line of taxis. He sidesteps TWO DRUNKEN FIGHTING BUMS and enters the Bellmore. A LOUD BUZZER RINGS as TRAVIS steps INTO THE BELLMORE. He pulls a ticket from the dispenser (silencing the buzzer) and walks toward the wall-length counter. An assortment of CABBIES are seated around a formica-topped table near the rear of the cafeteria. Some are barely awake, some are eating, the rest are swapping stories and smalltalk. Wizard, Dough-Boy, Charlie T and a FOURTH CABBIE are seated at a long table. WIZARD: You know Eddie, he's the new hippie kid in our group, long hair... Wizard demonstrates length of hair and others nod. WIZARD: ...he called up the Dispatcher last night. Charlie McCall, our dispatcher... DOUGH-BOY: One-Ball McCall? WIZARD: That's the guy. Eddie calls him up and says, "Hey, what do you want me to do. I'm over here at Poly Prep. I got a girl in the back and she doesn't have the fare. She wants me to come in back and collect. What should I do? The cabbies laugh. Across the cafeteria Travis selects a cup of coffee and some pastries. CHARLIE T: This is on the two-way with about a hundred and fifty cars listenin in. WIZARD: McCall says. "How much on the meter?" Eddie comes back and says "Two-fifty." McCall says, "Is she worth it". More laughter. DOUGH-BOY: Fuckin One-Ball. WIZARD: And the kid says, "Yeah. She's about 19, good-lookin." McCall says, "What can I tell you?" FOURTH CABBIE: She should have told him to get an OK from the front office. (laughter) WIZARD: McCall says, "Well, if you want some help I'll see if I can send some units out." CHARLIE T: Yeah. About a hundred and fifty. DOUGH-BOY: I hope he had a checker. WIZARD: She was just a kid. Stoned, you know. Travis, carrying his coffee and pastries, walks over to their table. Charlie T spots him. CHARLIE T: Hiya Killer. Charlie forms his hand into a pistol, cocks and fires, making the SOUND, "Pgghew." TRAVIS nods. WIZARD: You're getting a rep, Travis. TRAVIS sits down and the other CABBIES resume their conversation. CHARLIE T: Got the five you owe me, Killer? TRAVIS reaches into his pocket and pulls out a roll of small denomination bills. The crumpled $20 bill falls onto the table. TRAVIS stares at it a moment. He unfolds a five, gives it to CHARLIE T, then picks up the crumpled $20 and puts it back into his jacket pocket. WIZARD (O.S.) (to Travis): What's the action around? TRAVIS: Slow. CHARLIE T: Shit yes. Night woulda been dead if I hadn't grabbed an outatowner at Kennedy. Took him roun the horn and got a five dollar tip to boot. WIZARD (joking): One of these days we're gonna turn you in, Charlie T. Fleecin the hicks like that. DOUGH-BOY: Remember the time this cat picks up four dudes from the other side, Pakastanis I think they were, holds up their passports, to the toll booth collector on the bridge and charges em ten bucks each for 'crossing the border? They all laugh. CHARLIE T: Hell, I know'd you to do worse. DOUGH-BOY: Least I'm no airport rat. I work the whole town. CHARLIE T (chuckling): It's a living. WIZARD gets up to leave. WIZARD: Well, I'm shovin' on. WIZARD gets up, nods and walks toward the CASHIER. After a second's thought, TRAVIS calls to him: TRAVIS: Hey Wiz, just a second. I wanna talk to you. WIZARD waits for TRAVIS as he takes a final gulp of coffee and catches up with him. CHARLIE T calls to TRAVIS as they go: CHARLIE T: See ya, Killer. Don't forget your pea shooter. CHARLIE T cocks his imaginary gun again, fires and chuckles WIZARD and TRAVIS nod goodbye, pay the CASHIER and exit. EXT. TRAVIS follows WIZARD out onto the sidewalk. TRAVIS follows WIZARD as he walks toward his cab. He has something on his mind, something he wants to talk to WIZARD about. TRAVIS (walking): Hey Wiz. WIZARD leans back against the cab. TRAVIS is about to speak when he spots a GROUP of BLACK and PUERTO RICAN STREET PUNKS, ages 12-15, jiving down the sidewalk toward him. ONE tosses a spray paint can around his back, basketball style. ANOTHER mocks as if he's going to scratch a key along one of the cabs. WIZARD has no visible reaction. A flash of controlled anger crosses TRAVIS' face. He stares at the BOY with the poised key. It is the same look that crossed his face in the Harlem Deli. We are reminded with a jolt that the killer lies just beneath TRAVIS' surface. The BLACK PUNK must instinctively realize this too, because he makes a cocky show of putting the key back into his pocket and be-bopping around TRAVIS and WIZARD. The YOUNG MEAN-STREETERS continue down the street and TRAVIS turns back to WIZARD. Across the street, in the background, a JUNKIE nestles in a doorway. TRAVIS (hesitant): Wiz? WIZARD: Yeah? TRAVIS: Look, ah, we never talked much, you and me... WIZARD: Yeah? TRAVIS: I wanted to ask you something, on account you've been around so long. WIZARD: Shoot. They don't call me the Wizard for nothing. TRAVIS: Well, I just, you know... WIZARD: Things got ya down? TRAVIS: Real down. WIZARD: It happens. TRAVIS: Sometimes it gets so I just don't know what I'm gonna do. I get some real crazy ideas, you know? Just go out and do somethin. WIZARD: The taxi life, you mean. TRAVIS: Yeah. WIZARD (nods): I know. TRAVIS: Like do anything, you know. WIZARD: Travis, look, I dig it. Let me explain. You choose a certain way of life. You live it. It becomes what you are. I've been a hack 27 years, the last ten at night. Still don't own my own cab. I guess that's the way I want it. You see, that must be what I am. A police car stops across the street. TWO PATROLMEN get out and roust the JUNKIE from his doorway. WIZARD (continuing): Look, a person does a certain thing and that's all there is to it. It becomes what he is. Why fight it? What do you know? How long you been a hack, a couple months? You're like a peg and you get dropped into a slot and you got to squirm and wiggle around a while until you fit in. TRAVIS (pause): That's just about the dumbest thing I ever heard, Wizard. WIZARD: What do you expect, Bertrand Russell? I've been a cabbie all my life, what do I know? (a beat) I don't even know what you're talking about. TRAVIS: Neither do I, I guess. WIZARD: You fit in. It's lonely, it's rough at first. But you fit in. You got no choice. WIZARD: Yeah. Sorry, Wizard. WIZARD: Don't worry, Killer. You'll be all right. (a beat) I seen enough to know. TRAVIS: Thanks. WIZARD gives TRAVIS a short wave implying, "Chin up, old boy," and walks around to the driver's side of his cab. WIZARD drives off, leaving the street to its natural inhabitants.