Taxi Driver Page #14

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 c*cks 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.

69.

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.

70.

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.

71.

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.

CUT TO:

FADE IN:

EXT. CHARLES PALANTINE RALLY - DAY

A rally platform in a supermarket parking lot somewhere in

QUEENS is draped in red, white and blue bunting.

A CROWD of about 500 persons mills about, waiting for the

rally to begin. Piped pop-country MUSIC plays over the

loudspeaker system.

The CADRE OF SECRET SERVICE MEN, with their distinctive

metallic grey suits, sun glasses and football physiques,

stands out in the CROWD.

On the PLATFORM are seated an assortment of LOCAL POLITICOS

as well as some PALANTINE WORKERS and ADVISERS.

TOM is silently reading something on the podium, and BETSY

stands on the platform steps talking with ANOTHER WORKER.

TOM looks up and to his left for a moment, then returns to

what he was reading. Then he returns his gaze to the upper

left, watching something very closely.

72.

After a moment he walks over to the steps where BETSY is

standing.

TOM:

Betsy, come over here a moment.

BETSY:

What is it? I'm busy.

TOM:

(insistent)

Just follow me.

BETSY excuses herself and walks across the platform with TOM.

As they stand to the rear of the platform, TOM secretively

makes a gesture with his eyes and says out of the side of

his mouth:

TOM:

Look there.

(her eyes follow his)

No, over further - get your

glasses - yes, over there. Isn't

that little guy the same guy that

was bugging you around the office

about a month ago?

BETSY, putting on her glasses, looks closely. She tries not

to make her stare too obvious.

BETSY:

No, I don't think so.

(a beat)

That's someone else.

TOM:

Now look more closely. Look around

the eyes and chin. See? See there?

CAMERA CLOSES IN on TRAVIS BICKLE standing in the CROWD: he

has shaved his head to a short stubble. There he is: brushcut,

wearing a giant grin, and a large "Palantine '72" button.

Although it is a pleasant sunny day, TRAVIS wears a bulky

bulged-out Army jacket.

TRAVIS looks warily from side to side and vanishes in the

CROWD.

A SHORT WHILE LATER, TRAVIS walks up to a SECRET SERVICE MAN

standing near the fringes of the CROWD. The SECRET SERVICE

MAN -- in sun glasses, grey suit, ever-roving eyes -- is

immediately identifiable.

73.

Whenever TRAVIS confronts a symbol of authority, he becomes

like a young boy. This time is no exception, although one

suspects there is a plan hatching beneath that boyish

exterior. The SECRET SERVICE MAN, for his part, is about as

talkative as the Sphinx.

TRAVIS:

Are you a Secret Service Man?

SECRET SERVICE MAN

(indifferently)

Why do you ask?

TRAVIS:

I've seen a lot of suspiciouslooking

people around here today.

SECRET SERVICE MAN glances at TRAVIS momentarily.

SECRET SERVICE MAN

Rate this script:4.1 / 16 votes