Taxi Driver Page #2

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

(hostile, impatient)

There isn't time for that. In other

words, you don't know.

TRAVIS:

No.

7.

MAN IN BUSINESS SUIT

Well, you should know, damn it, or

who else would know? Pull over

right here.

(points out window)

Why don't you stick your goddamn

head out of the goddamn window once

in a while and find out about the

goddamn fog!

TRAVIS pulls to the curb. The BUSINESS MAN stuffs a dollar

bill into the pay drawer and jumps out of the cab. He turns

to hail another taxi.

MAN IN BUSINESS SUIT

Taxi! Taxi!

Travis writes up his trip card and drives away.

It is LATER THAT NIGHT. The rain has turned to drizzle.

Travis drives trough another section of Manhattan.

TRAVIS (V.O.)

I work the whole city, up, down,

don't make no difference to me -

does to some.

STREETSIDE:
TRAVIS' P.O.V. Black PROSTITUTE wearing white

vinyl boots, leopard-skin mini-skirt and blond wig hails

taxi. On her arm hangs half-drunk seedy EXECUTIVE TYPE.

TRAVIS pulls over.

PROSTITUTE and JOHN climb into back seat. TRAVIS checks out

the action in rear view mirror.

TRAVIS (V.O.)(CONTD)

Some won't take spooks - Hell,

don't make no difference tom me.

TRAVIS' taxi drives through Central Park.

GRUNTS, GROANS coming from back seat. HOOKER and JOHN going

at it in back seat. He's having a hard time and she's

probably trying to get him to come off manually.

JOHN (O.S.)

Oh baby, baby.

PROSTITUTE (O.S.)

(forceful)

Come on.

8.

TRAVIS stares blankly ahead.

CUT TO:

TRAVIS' APARTMENT. CAMERA PANS SILENTLY across INT. room,

indicating this is not a new scene.

TRAVIS is sitting at plain table writing. He wears shirt,

jeans, boots. An unfiltered cigarette rests in a bent

coffee can ash tray.

CLOSE UP of notebook. It is a plain lined dimestore notebook

and the words TRAVIS is writing with a stubby pencil are

those he is saying. The columns are straight, disciplined.

Some of the writing is in pencil, some in ink. The

handwriting is jagged.

CAMERA continues to PAN, examining TRAVIS' apartment. It is

unusual, to say the least:

A ratty old mattress is thrown against one wall. The floor

is littered with old newspapers, worn and unfolded streets

maps and pornography. The pornography is of the sort that

looks cheap but costs $10 a threw - black and white photos

of naked women tied and gagged with black leather straps and

clothesline. There is no furniture other than the rickety

chair and table. A beat-up portable TV rests on an upright

melon crate. The red silk mass in another corner looks like

a Vietnamese flag. Indecipherable words, figures, numbers

are scribbled on the plain plaster walls. Ragged black wires

dangle from the wall where the telephone once hung.

TRAVIS (V.O.)

They're all animals anyway. All the

animals come out at night: Whores,

skunk pussies, buggers, queens,

fairies, dopers, junkies, sick,

venal.

(a beat)

Someday a real rain will come and

wash all this scum off the streets.

It's EARLY MORNING: 6 a.m. The air is clean and fresh and

the streets nearly deserted.

EXT. of TAXI GARAGE. TRAVIS' taxi pulls into the driveway.

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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