Taxi Driver Page #4

TRAVIS (V.O.)(CONTD)

Each night when I return the cab to

the garage I have to clean the come

off the back seat. Some nights I

clean off the blood.

9.

INT. of TAXI GARAGE. TRAVIS pulls his taxi into garage

stall. TRAVIS reaches across the cab and extracts a small

vial of bennies from the glove compartment.

TRAVIS stands next to the cab, straightens his back, and

tucks the bottle of pills into his jacket pocket. He lowers

his head, looks into back seat, opens rear door and bends

inside.

He shakes a cigarette out of his pack of camels and lights it.

SLIGHT TIMECUT:
TRAVIS books it at garage office. Old,

rotting slabs of wood are screwed to a grey crumbling

concrete wall. Each available space is covered with handlettered

signs, time schedules, check-out sheets, memos. The

signs read:

BE ALERT!!

THE SAFE DRIVER:

IS ALWAYS READY:

FOR THE UNEXPECTED

SLOW DOWN:

AND GAUGE SPEED TO

ROAD CONDITIONS:

YOU CAN'T STOP

ON A DIME!

ALL NIGHT DRIVERS

HAVING PERSONAL INJURY

ACCIDENTS:

MUST PHONE IN AT ONCE TO

JUDSON 2-3410

AND MUST FILE A REPORT Promptly

AT 9 AM THE FOLLOWING MORNING AT

43 W. 61st.

A half dozen haggard cabbies hang around the office. Their

shirts are wrinkle, their heads dropping, the mouths

incessantly chattering. We pick up snatches of cabbie small

talk:

1ST CABBIE

... hadda piss like a bull steer,

so I pull over on 10th Ave, yank up

the hood and do the engine job.

(gestures as if

taking a piss into

the hood)

There I am with my dong in my hand

when a guy come up and asks if I

need any help. Just checking the

battery, I says, and, meanwhile...

(MORE)

10.

1ST CABBIE (CONT'D)

(takes imaginary piss)

2ND CABBIE

If he thinks I'm going up into The

Jungle this time of night, he can

shove it.

3RD CABBIE

(talking into pay phone)

F*** that Violets First. F***ing

saddle horse. No, no, the OTB. F***

them. No, it was TKR. TCR and I'da

made seven f***ing grand. F*** them

too. Alright, what about the second

race?

4TH CABBIE

Over at Love, this hooker took on

the whole garage. Blew the whole

f***ing joint and they wouldn't

even let her use the drinking

fountain.

Travis hands his trip sheet to a CAB OFFICIAL, nods slightly,

turns and walks toward the door.

OUTSIDE, TRAVIS walks pleasantly down Broadway, his hands in

his jacket pockets. The sidewalks are deserted, except for

diligent fruit and vegetable VENDORS setting up their stalls.

He takes a deep breath of fresh air, pulls a white pill from

his pocket, pops it into his mouth.

Travis turns a corner, keeps walking. Ahead of him is a 24-

hour PORNO THEATRE. The theatre, a blaze of cheap day-glow

reds and yellows, is an offense to the clear, crisp morning

air. The permanent lettering reads, "Adam Theatre, 16mm

Sound Features". Underneath, today's feature are handlettered:

"Six-Day Cruise" and "Beaver Dam".

Travis stops at the box office, purchases a ticket, and

walks in.

INT. PORNO THEATRE

Travis stands in the aisle for a moment. He turns around,

walking back toward the concession stand.

CONCESSION STAND

A plain dumpy-looking GIRL sits listlessly on a stool behind

the shabby concession stand. A plaster-of-Paris Venus de

Milo sits atop a piece of purple velvet cloth on the counter.

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