Taxi Driver

ANDY: You like ball games?

TRAVIS: Huh?

ANDY: I can get you front and center. What do you like? I can get you Mets, Knicks, Rangers? Hell, I can get you the Mayor's box.

TRAVIS: Nah. I ain't interested.

TRAVIS: Yeah. I was all around. One hospital, then the next.

ANDY: It's hell out there all right. A real shit-eatin' war. I'll say this, though: It's bringing a lot of fantastic guns. The market's flooded. Colt automatics are all over.

TRAVIS: They'd never get me to go back. They'd have to shoot me first. You got anything to carry these in?

ANDY: You in Nam? Can't help but notice your jacket?

TRAVIS: Huh?

ANDY: Vietnam? I saw it on your jacket. Where were you? Bet you got to handle a lot of weapons out there.

TRAVIS: How much for everything.

ANDY: The .32's $150 -- and you're really getting a good deal now -- and all together it comes to, ah, seven eighty- five for four pieces and a holster. Hell, I'll give you the holster, we'll make it seventy-five and you've got a deal -- a good one.

TRAVIS: How much to get a permit to carry?

ANDY: Well, you're talking big money now. I'd say at least five grand, maybe more, and it would take a while to check it out. The way things are going now $5.000 is probably low. You see, I try not to fool with the small-time crap. Too risky, too little bread. Say 6 G's, but if I get the permit it'll be as solid as the Empire State Building.

TRAVIS: Nah, this'll be fine.

ANDY: You can't carry in a cab even with a permit -- so why bother?

TRAVIS: Is there a firing range around?

ANDY: Sure, here, take this card, go to this place and give 'em the card. They'll charge you, but there won't be any hassle.

ANDY: Some of these guns are like toys, but a Smith and Wesson, man, you can hit somebody over the head with it and it will still come back dead on. Nothing beats quality. You interested in an automatic?

TRAVIS: I want a .32. Revolver. And a palm gun. That .22 there.

ANDY: That's the Colt .25 -- a fine little gun. Don't do a lot of damage, but it's as fast as the Devil. Handy little gun, you can carry it almost anywhere. I'll throw it in for another $125.

TRAVIS: You got a .44 Magnum?

ANDY: That's an expensive gun.

TRAVIS: I got money.

BETSY: Travis?

TRAVIS: Yeah.

BETSY: Maybe I'll see you again sometime, huh?

TRAVIS: Sure.

TRAVIS: No, no, please. This fare's on me. Please.

BETSY: Thank you, Travis.

BETSY: How are you, Travis? I read about you in the papers.

TRAVIS: Oh, I got over that. It was nothing, really. The papers always blow these things up. A little stiffness. That'll go away. I just sleep more, that's all.

TRAVIS: I see where Palantine got the nomination.

BETSY: Yes. It won't be long now. Seventeen days.

TRAVIS: Well, I hope he wins.

BETSY: Hello, Travis.

TRAVIS: Hello, Betsy.

TRAVIS: What about the record?

BETSY: Keep it.

TRAVIS: Can I call you?

TRAVIS: ...there's plenty of movies around here. I haven't seen any of them, but I'm sure they're good.

BETSY: No, Travis. You're a sweet guy and all that, but I think this is it. I'm going home.

TRAVIS: You mean you don't want to go to a movie? There's plenty of movies around here.

BETSY: No, I don't feel so good. We're just two very different kinds of people, that's all.

TRAVIS: Huh?

BETSY: It's very simple. You go your way, I'll go mine. Thanks anyway, Travis.

TRAVIS: But... Betsy...

BETSY: I'm getting a taxi.

TRAVIS: This is sort of high class...

BETSY: I mean porno movies.

TRAVIS: Well... mostly...

BETSY: My God!

TRAVIS: We can go to another movie if you like, I don't care. I got money. There's plenty...

BETSY: These are not the kind of movies I go to.

TRAVIS: Well, I don't follow movies too much...

BETSY: You mean these are the only kind of movies you go to?

TRAVIS: Where are you going?

BETSY: I'm leaving.

TRAVIS: What do you mean?

TRAVIS: Damn.

BETSY: What's wrong?

TRAVIS: I forgot to get the Coca-Cola.

BETSY: What are you doing?

TRAVIS: I bought a couple of tickets.

BETSY: But this is a porno movie.

TRAVIS: No, these are the kind that couples go to. They're not like the other movies. All kinds of couples go. Honest. I've seen them.

BETSY: Travis, you haven't even played the record?

TRAVIS: Yeah, well my stereo player is broke. But I'm sure the record is OK.

BETSY: Your stereo broke? God, I could hardly stand that. I live on music.

TRAVIS: I don't follow music much. I'd like to though. Honest.

BETSY: So you haven't heard this record yet?

TRAVIS: No. I thought maybe you could play it for me on your player.

BETSY: You didn't have to spend your money -- ?

TRAVIS: He'll, what else can I do with it all?

BETSY: You're right! Now I remember! It was after the Western regional planners were in town and the meeting went late. The next day I was completely bushed. It was unbelievable.

TRAVIS: If it wasn't for a drunk I would have picked you up. He wanted to go to the DMZ.

BETSY: The DMZ?

TRAVIS: South Bronx. The worst. I tried to ditch him, but he was already in the cab, so I had to take him. That's the law. Otherwise I would have picked you up.

BETSY: That would have been quite a coincidence.

TRAVIS: You'd be surprised how often you see the same people, get the same fare. People have patterns. They do more or less the same things every day. I can tell.

BETSY: Well, I don't go to the Plaza every night.

TRAVIS: I didn't mean you. But just ordinary people. A guy I know -- Dough-Boy -- met his wife that way. They got to talking. She said she usually caught the bus so he started picking her up at the bus stop, taking her home with the flag up.

BETSY: That's very romantic. Some of your fares must be interesting. See any stars, politicians, deliver any babies yet?

TRAVIS: Well, no... not really... had some famous people in the cab. I got this guy who makes lasers. Not regular lasers, not the big kind. Little lasers, pocket sized, small enough to clip your belt like a transistor radio, like a gun, you know. Like a ray gun. Zap.

BETSY: What hours do you work?

TRAVIS: I work a single, which means there's no replacement -- no second man on the cab. Six to six, sometimes eight. Seventy-two hours a week.

BETSY: You mean you work seventy-two hours a week.

TRAVIS: Sometimes 76 or 80. Sometimes I squeeze a few more hours in the morning. Eighty miles a day, a hundred miles a night.

BETSY: You must be rich.

TRAVIS: It keeps ya busy.

BETSY: You know what you remind me of?

TRAVIS: What?

BETSY: That song by Kris Kristofferson, where it's said "Like a pusher, party truth, partly fiction, a walking contradiction".

TRAVIS: I'm no pusher, Betsy. Honest. I never have pushed.

TRAVIS: I didn't mean that, Travis. Just the part about the contradiction.

TRAVIS: Oh. Who was that again?

BETSY: The singer?

TRAVIS: Yeah. Yes. I don't follow music too much.

BETSY: Kris Kristofferson.

BETSY: Com'on, Travis. It's not that bad. I take lots of taxis.

TRAVIS: I know. I could have picked you up.

BETSY: Huh?

TRAVIS: Late one night. About three. At the plaza.

BETSY: Three in the morning? I don't think so. I have to go to bed early. I work days. It must have been somebody else.

TRAVIS: No. It was you. You had some manila folders and a pink bag from Saks.

BETSY: Travis, I never ever met anybody like you before.

TRAVIS: I can believe that.

BETSY: Where do you live?

TRAVIS: Oh, uptown. You know. Some joint. It ain't much.

BETSY: So why did you decide to drive a taxi at night?

TRAVIS: I had a regular job for a while, days. You know, doin' this, doin' that. But I didn't have anything to do at night. I got kinda lonely, you know, just wandering around. So I decided to works nights. It ain't good to be alone, you know.

BETSY: After this job, I'm looking forward to being alone for a while.

TRAVIS: Yeah, well... In a cab you get to meet people. You meet lotsa people. It's good for you.

BETSY: What kind of people?

TRAVIS: Just people people, you know. Just people. Had a dead man once.

BETSY: Really?

TRAVIS: He'd been shot. I didn't know that. He just crawled into the back seat, said "West 45th Street" and conked out.

BETSY: What did you do?

TRAVIS: I shut the meter off, for one thing. I knew I wasn't going to get paid. Then I dropped him off at the cop shop. They took him.

BETSY: That's really something.

TRAVIS: Oh, you see lots of freaky stuff in a cab. Especially when the moon's out.

BETSY: The moon?

TRAVIS: The full moon. One night I had three or four weirdos in a row and I looked up and, sure enough, there it was -- the full moon.

BETSY: We've signed up 15,000 Palantine volunteers in New York so far. The organizational problems are becoming just staggering.

TRAVIS: I know what you mean. I've got the same problems. I just can't get things organized. Little things, I mean. Like my room, my possessions. I should get one of those signs that says, "One of these days I'm gonna get organezizied"

BETSY: I don't know...

TRAVIS: It's just to the corner, mam. In broad daytime. Nothing can happen. I'll be there to protect you.

BETSY: All right. All right. I'm taking a break at four o'clock. If you're here then we'll go to the corner and have some coffee and pie.

TRAVIS: Oh, I appreciate that, Betsy mam. I'll be here at four o'clock exactly. And... ah... Betsy...

BETSY: Yes?

TRAVIS: My name is Travis.

BETSY: Thank you, Travis.

BETSY: Why?

TRAVIS: Well, Betsy mam, I drive by this place here in my taxi many times a day. And I watch you sitting here at this big long desk with these telephones, and I say to myself, that's a lonely girl. She needs a friend. And I'm gonna be her friend.

BETSY: Well, that's not exactly what the Senator has proposed. You might not want to canvass, but there is plenty more other work we need done: Office work, filing, poster hanging.

TRAVIS: I'm a good worker, Betsy mam, a real good worker.

BETSY: If you talk to Tom, he'll assign you to something.

TRAVIS: If you don't mind, mam, I'd rather work for you.

BETSY: Well, we're all working tonight.

TRAVIS: Well, Betsy mam, I drive a taxi at night.

BETSY: Well, then, what is it you exactly want to do?

TRAVIS: If you don't mind, mam, I'd be mighty pleased if you'd go out and have some coffee and pie with me.

BETSY: Is that so? But what do you think of Charles Palantine?

TRAVIS: Who mam?

BETSY: Charles Palantine. The man you want to volunteer to help elect president.

TRAVIS: Oh, I think he's a wonderful man. Make a great, great President.

BETSY: You want to canvass?

TRAVIS: Yes, mam.

BETSY: No, I don't think so. That's someone else.

TOM: Now look more closely. Look around the eyes and chin. See? See there?

TOM: Betsy, come over here a moment.

BETSY: What is it? I'm busy.

TOM: Just follow me.

BETSY: Try holding the match like this.

TOM: This is gotta be a game, right?

BETSY: This I gotta see.

TOM: Ouch!

BETSY: Oh, are you all right?

TOM: I'm great. Always set my fingers on fire. If you want to see another trick. I do this thing with my nose.

BETSY: No. I just wanted to see if you could light it that way. The guy at the newsstand can.

TOM: Ah, yes, the guy at the newsstand, Mr. Asbestos...

BETSY: He happens to be missing fingers. I first noticed when --

TOM: Is he Italian?

BETSY: No, why?

TOM: You sure he's not Italian?

BETSY: He's Black, OK?

TOM: Well, If he had been Italian, they could have been shot off. Sometimes the mob does that to teach guys a lesson, If they blow a job or something.

BETSY: As I said, he isn't Italian. Besides, I thought they just killed them.

TOM: Don't be naive. They can't kill everybody. They have different punishments for different things. Like, if they kill a stool pigeon, they leave a canary on the body. It's symbolic.

BETSY: Why don't they leave a pigeon instead of a canary?

TOM: I don't know. Maybe they don't leave a canary. Don't be technical. What I'm saying is if this newsstand guy's Italian and his fingers are gone, maybe he's a thief.

BETSY: First, he's not Italian. Second he's not a thief. I noticed the fingers when he was getting my change -- the right change. Two of his fingers are missing. Just stubs. Like they were blown away. I was putting my change in my purse when I saw him get out a cigarette. I couldn't help watching. I was dying to see how he'd light it.

TOM: With the other hand, right?

BETSY: No, stupid. With the stubs. That's the whole point.

TOM: I know that guy. His hand looks like a paw. An old Black guy, the newsstand at --

BETSY: No, this is young -- well, I'm never sure how old Black people are -- but, anyway, he isn't old. That's for sure.

TOM: Show me how he did that again.

TOM: Well, if Cronkite's so great, why don't we run him instead?

BETSY: That's the last. The finish. Period. Some people can learn. Some people can't. And you wonder why we never get serious --

TOM: Sure we could run him. You realize he's already head of his block association.

BETSY: Have you been noticing anything strange?

TOM: No, why?

BETSY: Why's that taxi driver across the street been staring at us?

TOM: What taxi driver?

BETSY: That taxi driver. The one that's been sitting here.

TOM: How long has he been there?

BETSY: I don't know -- but it feels like a long time.

BETSY: Maybe if you'd try thinking once in a while, you'd get somewhere.

TOM: With who?

BETSY: Alright, now. You want to know why CBS has the highest ratings? You think their news is any different from NBC, ABC? It's all the same news. Same stories. Same order usually. What, you thought they had good news for people, right? You thought that's why people watched CBS? I'll tell you why people watch CBS. Cronkite. The man. You got it? Not the news, not the issues, the man. If Walter Cronkite told people to eat soap, they'd do it. We are selling cars, goddamn it.

BETSY: Tom, come here a moment. I think this canvas report is about ready to go out. Check it out with Andy, and if he okays if, have a copy made for the campaign headquarters in every county. And don't forget to add the new photo releases.

TOM: The senator's white paper is almost ready, Bets. Should we wait for that?

BETSY: Andy usually just sends those to the national media. The local press doesn't know what to do with a position paper until UPI and AP tell them anyway.

TOM: I think we should try to get maximum coverage for this new mandatory welfare program. Push the issues.

BETSY: First push the man, then the issue. Senator Palantine is first of all a dynamic man, an intelligent, interesting, fascinating man.

TOM: You forgot "sexy".

BETSY: No, I didn't forget "sexy".

TOM: Just didn't get around to it, huh?

BETSY: Oh, Tom, please.

TOM: Well, for Christsakes, you sound like you're selling... I don't know what... cars... not issues.

BETSY: Have you ever wondered why CBS News has the highest ratings?

TOM: More people watch it.

BETSY: Alright, forget it if you're not going to be serious,

TOM: No, c'mon, I'm listening. I was just...

BETSY: Just what?

TOM: Kidding around... you know, fun.

TRAVIS: What is your name? My name is Travis.

CONCESSION GIRL: Awh, come off it, Pal.

TRAVIS: No, I'm serious, really...

CONCESSION GIRL: Ya want me to call da boss? Huh? That what you want?

TRAVIS: No, no, it's alright. I'll have a big Coca-Cola -- without ice -- and a large buttered popcorn, and... ...some of them chocolate covered malted milk balls... and ju-jukes, a box. They last.

CONCESSION GIRL: We don't have ju-jukes. We don't have Coca-Cola. We only got Royal Crown Cola.

TRAVIS: That's fine.

CONCESSION GIRL: That's a dollar forty-seven.

DOUGH-BOY: Fuckin' One-Ball.

WIZARD: And the kid says, "Yeah. She's about 19, good-lookin." McCall says, "What can I tell you?"

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?

DOUGH-BOY: Truck drivers bring up Harlem Specials that blow up in your hand. But this guy don't deal no shit. Just quality. If you ever need anything, I can put you in touch.

WIZARD: For a fee.

DOUGH-BOY: For a fee.

WIZARD: I never use mine. But it's a good thing to have. Just as a threat.

DOUGH-BOY: Well, if there's this many hackies inside, there must be lots of fares outside. And I'm gonna hustle 'em.

WIZARD: What ya gonna do with all that money, Dough-Boy?

DOUGH-BOY: Support my kids. Can you dig it? Nice to meet ya, Travis. So long, Wizard. Say hello to Malcolm X for me.

DOUGH-BOY: Well, you ever need one, I know a feller that kin getcha a real nice deal. Lotsa shit around.

WIZARD: The cops and company raise hell they find out.

DOUGH-BOY: You run all over town, don't you, Travis?

WIZARD: Fuckin' Mau Mau land, that's what it is.

DOUGH-BOY: Yeah. We went to Harvard together.

WIZARD: We call him Dough-Boy cause he likes the dollars. He'll chase a buck straight into Jersey.

DOUGH-BOY: Look who's talking? Who else would stay up all night to catch the morning rush hour?

WIZARD: She stayed in the cab, what's she gonna do? But she stiffed me. A real skunk.

DOUGH-BOY: A real skunk.

WIZARD: Sure. What do you think? She wanted to get out of the cab. I said "Look, you're in the middle of the fucking bridge..."

DOUGH-BOY: You said that?

WIZARD: Well, I said, "Lady, please, we're on a bridge..."

DOUGH-BOY: And what happened?

WIZARD: Yeah.

DOUGH-BOY: Could you see anything?

WIZARD: Well, she was trying to keep her skirt down, sort of, you know. But it was pretty obvious what she was doing. I mean, Christ, it was rush hour and the traffic's practically standing still.

DOUGH-BOY: What did you do?

WIZARD: Threw on the emergency, jumped the seat and fucked her brains out -- What do you think! What do I have to do? Draw you a picture?

DOUGH-BOY: Yeah.

WIZARD: What was I supposed to do? I was watching in the rear view. You know, just checkin' traffic. So howsit?

WIZARD: Well, whatever the fuck it is, she used it. And then the spray perfume. You know, the real sweat kind -- and, on top of that, get this, right when we're crossing the Tri-boro bridge -- she changes her pantyhose!

DOUGH-BOY: No.

DOUGH-BOY: Yeah, that's Blush-On. My wife uses it,

WIZARD: Ask Travis. He's the ladies man.

WIZARD: First she did her make-up. You know, I hate it when they do that. I mean she does the whole works, the mascara, the eye-shadow, the lipstick, the rouge...

DOUGH-BOY: Not rouge. Blush-On, they call it.

WIZARD: The kind with a brush.

TRAVIS: 20 bucks?

DOUGH-BOY: Yeah. Hey thanks. That's real nice, Travis.

TRAVIS: Huh?

DOUGH-BOY: I mean, you handle some pretty rough traffic, huh?

TRAVIS: I have.

DOUGH-BOY: You carry a piece? You need one?

TRAVIS: Nah. I suppose not.

DOUGH-BOY: Stick up?

TRAVIS: No, just some crazy fucker. Cut half his ear off.

DOUGH-BOY: Where.

TRAVIS: In the jungle. 122nd.

TRAVIS: Some fleet driver for Bell just got cut up. Just heard it on the radio.

DOUGH-BOY: Stick up?

IRIS: Sure you don't want to come with me?

TRAVIS: I can't. Otherwise, I would.

IRIS: I sure hate to go alone...

TRAVIS: I'll give you the money to go. I don't want you to take any from those guys.

IRIS: You don't have to.

TRAVIS: I want to -- what else can I do with my money? You may not see me again -- for a while.

IRIS: What do you mean?

TRAVIS: My work may take me out of New York.

IRIS: Do you really think I should go to the commune?

TRAVIS: I think you should go home, but otherwise I think you should go. It would be great for you. You have to get away from here. The city's a sewer, you gotta get out of it.

IRIS: God, I don't know who's weirder, you or me.

TRAVIS: What are you going to do about Sport and that old bastard?

IRIS: Just leave'em. There's plenty of other girls.

TRAVIS: You just gonna leave 'em?

IRIS: What should I do? Call the cops?

TRAVIS: Cops don't do nothin.

IRIS: Sport never treated me bad, honest. Never beat me up once.

TRAVIS: You can't leave 'em to do the same to other girls. You should get rid of them.

IRIS: How?

TRAVIS: I don't know. Just should, though. Somebody should kill 'em. Nobody'd miss 'em.

IRIS: God. I know where they should have a commune for you. They should have a commune for you at Bellevue.

TRAVIS: I'm sorry, Iris. I didn't mean that.

IRIS: You're not much with girls, are you?

TRAVIS: Well, Iris, I look at it this way. A lot of girls come into my cab, some of them very beautiful. And I figure all day long men have been after them: trying to touch them, talk to them, ask them out. And they hate it. So I figure the best I can do for them is not bother them at all. So I don't say a thing. I pretend I'm not even there. I figure they'll understand that and appreciate me for it.

IRIS: Rock music died in 1970, that's what I think. Before that it was fantastic. I can tell you that. Everybody was crashing, hanging out at the Fillmore. Me and my girlfriend Ann used to go up the fire escape, you know? It was unbelievable. Rock Stars everywhere. That Airplane -- that's my group, man. All Libras. But now everybody's split or got sick or busted. I think I'll move to one of those communes in Vermont, you know? That's where all the smart ones went. I stayed here.

TRAVIS: I never been to a commune. I don't know. I saw pictures in a magazine, and it didn't look very clean to me.

IRIS: Why don't you come to a commune with me?

TRAVIS: Me? I could never go to a place like that.

IRIS: Why not?

TRAVIS: I... I don't get along with people like that.

IRIS: You a scorpion? That's it. You're a scorpion. I can tell.

TRAVIS: Besides, I've got to stay here.

IRIS: Why?

TRAVIS: I've got something important to do. I can't leave.

IRIS: What's so important?

TRAVIS: I can't say -- it's top secret. I'm doing something for the Army. The cab thing is just part time.

IRIS: You a narc?

TRAVIS: Do I look like a narc?

IRIS: Yeah.

IRIS: Who's a killer?

TRAVIS: That fella "Sport" looks like a killer to me.

IRIS: He never killed nobody. He's a Libra.

TRAVIS: Huh?

IRIS: I'm a Libra too. That's why we get along so well.

TRAVIS: He looks like a killer.

IRIS: I think Cancer's make the best lovers. My whole family are air signs.

TRAVIS: He shoots dope too.

IRIS: What makes you so high and mighty? Did you ever look at your own eyeballs in a mirror. You don't get eyes like that from...

TRAVIS: He's worse than an animal. Jail's too good for scum like that.

IRIS: God, you are square.

TRAVIS: At least I don't walk the streets like a skunk pussy. I don't screw and fuck with killers and junkies.

TRAVIS: Where?

IRIS: Pittsburgh.

TRAVIS: I ain't ever been there, but it don't seem like such a bad place.

IRIS: Why do you want me to go back to my parents? They hate me. Why do you think I split? There ain't nothin there.

TRAVIS: But you can't live like this. It's hell. Girls should live at home.

IRIS: Didn't you ever hear of women's lib?

IRIS: ...and after that Sport and I just started hanging out...

TRAVIS: Where is home?

IRIS: Well, you want to or not?

TRAVIS: O.K. It's a date. I'll see you here, then.

TRAVIS: Well, I tried.

IRIS: I understand, mister. It means something, really.

TRAVIS: Can I see you again?

IRIS: That's not hard to do.

TRAVIS: No, I mean really. This is nothing for a person to do.

IRIS: Sure. All right. We'll have breakfast. I get up about one o'clock. Tomorrow.

TRAVIS: Well tomorrow noon there's a... I got a...

TRAVIS: Do you understand why I came here?

IRIS: I think so. I tried to get into your cab one night, and now you want to come and take me away.

TRAVIS: Don't you want to go?

IRIS: I can leave anytime I want.

TRAVIS: But that one night?

IRIS: I was stoned. That's why they stopped me. When I'm not stoned, I got no place else to go. They just protect me from myself.

TRAVIS: Fuck it! Fuck it! Fuck it! Fuck it! Fuck it! Fuck it! Fuck it!

IRIS: You can do it in my mouth.

TRAVIS: Don't you understand anything?

TRAVIS: Listen...

IRIS: Don't you want to make it? Can't you make it?

TRAVIS: Can't you listen to me? Don't you want to get out of here?

IRIS: Why should I want to get out of here? This is where I live.

TRAVIS: But you're the one that wanted to get away. You're the one that came into my cab.

IRIS: I musta been stoned.

TRAVIS: Do they drug you?

IRIS: Oh, come off it, man.

IRIS: Why? Who are you?

TRAVIS: I drive a taxi. You tried to get away one night. Remember?

IRIS: No.

TRAVIS: You tried to run away in my taxi but your friend -- Sport -- wouldn't let you.

IRIS: I don't remember.

TRAVIS: It don't matter. I'm gonna get you outta here.

IRIS: We better make it, or Sport'll get mad. How do you want to make it?

TRAVIS: I don't want to make it. I came here to get you out.

IRIS: You want to make it like this?

TRAVIS: What's your name?

IRIS: Easy.

TRAVIS: That ain't much of a name.

IRIS: It's easy to remember. Easy Lay.

TRAVIS: What's your real name?

IRIS: I don't like my real name.

TRAVIS: What's your real name?

IRIS: Iris.

TRAVIS: That's a nice name.

IRIS: That's what you think.

TRAVIS: Why you hang around with them greasers?

IRIS: A girl needs protection.

TRAVIS: Yeah. From the likes of them.

IRIS: It's your time mister. Fifteen minutes ain't long. That cigarette burns out, your time is up.

TRAVIS: Hello.

IRIS: You looking for some action?

TRAVIS: Well... I guess so.

IRIS: All right. You see that guy over there? His name is Sport. Go talk to him. I'll wait here.

TRAVIS: Why should it be grounded?

MAN IN BUSINESS SUIT: Listen -- I mean I just saw the needle of the Empire State Building. You can't see it for the fog!

TRAVIS: Then it's a good guess it's grounded.

MAN IN BUSINESS SUIT: The Empire State in fog means something, don't it? Do you know, or don't you? What is your number, cabbie?

TRAVIS: Have you tried the telephone?

MAN IN BUSINESS SUIT: There isn't time for that. In other words, you don't know.

TRAVIS: No.

MAN IN BUSINESS SUIT: Well, you should know, damn it, or who else would know? Pull over right here. Why don't you stick your goddamn head out of the goddamn window once in a while and find out about the goddamn fog!

PALANTINE: Nice talking to you, Travis.

TRAVIS: Thank you, sir. You're a good man, sir.

PALANTINE: I know what you mean, Travis, and it's not going to be easy. We're going to have to make some radical changes.

TRAVIS: Damn straight.

PALANTINE: Travis, what single thing would you want the next President of this country to do most?

TRAVIS: I don't know, sir. I don't follow political issues much.

PALANTINE: There must be something...

TRAVIS: Well, he should clean up this city here. It's full of filth and scum. Scum and filth. It's like an open sewer. I can hardly take it. Some days I go out and smell it then I get headaches that just stay and never go away. We need a President that would clean up this whole mess. Flush it out.

TRAVIS: Say, aren't you Charles Palantine, the candidate?

PALANTINE: Yes I am.

TRAVIS: Well, I'm one of your biggest supporters. I tell everybody that comes in this cab that they should vote for you.

PALANTINE: Why, thank you Travis.

TRAVIS: I'm sure you'll win, sir. Everybody I know is going to vote for you. I was going to put one of your stickers on my taxi but the company said it was against their policy.

PALANTINE: I'll tell you, Travis, I've learned more about this country sitting in taxi cabs than in the board room of General Motors.

TRAVIS: You kiddin? Who else would hack through South Bronx or Harlem at night?

PERSONNEL OFFICER: You want to work uptown nights?

TRAVIS: I'll work anywhere, anytime. I know I can't be choosy.

PERSONNEL OFFICER: How's your driving record?

TRAVIS: Clean. Real clean. As clean as my conscience.

PERSONNEL OFFICER: Listen, son, you gonna get smart, you can leave right now.

TRAVIS: Sorry, sir. I didn't mean that.

PERSONNEL OFFICER: Physical? Criminal?

TRAVIS: Also clean.

PERSONNEL OFFICER: Age?

TRAVIS: Twenty-six.

PERSONNEL OFFICER: Education?

TRAVIS: Some. Here and there.

PERSONNEL OFFICER: Military record?

TRAVIS: Honorable discharge. May 1971.

PERSONNEL OFFICER: You moonlightin?

TRAVIS: No, I want long shifts.

PERSONNEL OFFICER: We hire a lot of moonlighters here.

TRAVIS: So I hear.

PERSONNEL OFFICER: Hell, we ain't that much fussy anyway. There's always opening on one fleet or another. Fill out these forms and give them to the girl at the desk, and leave your phone number. You gotta phone?

TRAVIS: No.

PERSONNEL OFFICER: Well then check back tomorrow.

TRAVIS: Yes, Sir.

PERSONNEL OFFICER: So whatja do now?

TRAVIS: I ride around nights mostly. Subways, buses. See things. Figur'd I might as well get paid for it.

PERSONNEL OFFICER: We don't need any misfits around here, son.

PERSONNEL OFFICER: No trouble with the Hack Bureau?

TRAVIS: No Sir.

PERSONNEL OFFICER: Got your license?

TRAVIS: Yes.

PERSONNEL OFFICER: So why do you want to be a taxi driver?

TRAVIS: I can't sleep nights.

PERSONNEL OFFICER: There's porno theatres for that.

TRAVIS: I know. I tried that.

SECRET SERVICE MAN: Look, um, if you give me your name and address, we'll send you the information on how to apply.

TRAVIS: You would, huh?

SECRET SERVICE MAN: Sure.

TRAVIS: My name is Henry Krinkle -- that's with a "K." K-R-I-N-K-L-E. I live at 13 1/2 Hopper Avenue, Fair Lawn, New Jersey. Zip code 07410. Got that?

SECRET SERVICE MAN: Sure, Henry. I got it all. We'll send you all the stuff all right.

TRAVIS: Great, hey. Thanks a lot.

SECRET SERVICE MAN: Is that so?

TRAVIS: What kind of guns do you guys use? .38's?

TRAVIS: Is it hard to get to be a Secret Service Man?

SECRET SERVICE MAN: Why?

TRAVIS: I kinda thought I might make a good one. I'm very observant.

SECRET SERVICE MAN: Oh?

TRAVIS: I was in the Army too. And I'm good with crowds.

SECRET SERVICE MAN: Who?

TRAVIS: Oh, lots. I don't know where they all are now. There used to be one standing over there.

TRAVIS: Are you a Secret Service Man?

SECRET SERVICE MAN: Why do you ask?

TRAVIS: I've seen a lot of suspicious-looking people around here today.

TRAVIS: Get it.

SPORT: Hey, mister, I don't know what's going on here. This don't make any sense.

TRAVIS: Show it to me.

SPORT: Wha -- ?

TRAVIS: Yeah, Iris. You know anybody by that name?

SPORT: No. Hillbilly, you'd better get your wise ass outa here and quick, or you're gonna be in trouble.

TRAVIS: Hey, Sport. How are things?

SPORT: O.K., cowboy.

TRAVIS: How are things in the pimp business, hey Sport?

SPORT: What's going on?

TRAVIS: I'm here to see Iris.

SPORT: Iris?

TRAVIS: I'm no cop.

SPORT: Well, if you are, it's entrapment already.

TRAVIS: I'm hip.

SPORT: Funny, you don't look hip.

SPORT: Here, officer, take me in. I'm clean. I didn't do it. Got a ticket once in Jersey. That's all. Honest, officer.

TRAVIS: Your name Sport?

SPORT: Anything you say, officer.

TRAVIS: I'm no cop. I want some action.

SPORT: I saw. $20 fifteen minutes. $30 half hour.

TRAVIS: Shit.

SPORT: Take it or leave it.

WIZARD: 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: 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? 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. I seen enough to know.

TRAVIS: Thanks.

TRAVIS: 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: 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.

WIZARD: What's the action around?

TRAVIS: Slow.

WIZARD: So howsit?

TRAVIS: Some fleet driver for Bell just got cut up. Just heard it on the radio.

WIZARD: Travis.

TRAVIS: Hey Wizard.