In a moment of personal crisis¹, how much help can you expect from a New York taxi driver? I began studyingthis question and found the answers interesting.

One morning I got into three different taxis and announced, "Well, it's my first day back in New York in seven years. I've been in prison." Not a single driver replied, so I tried again. "Yeah, I shot a man in Reno." I explained, hoping the driver would ask me why, but nobody asked. The only response came from a Ghanaian driver, "Reno? That is in Nevada?"

Taxi drivers were uniformly sympathetic when I said I'd just been fired. "This is America," a Haitian driver said. "One door is closed. Another is open." He argued against my plan to burn down my boss's house. A Pakistani driver even turned down a chance to profit from my loss of hope; he refused to take me to the middle of the George Washington Bridge--a $20 trip. "Why you want to go there? Go home and relax. Don't worry. Take a new job."

One very hot weekday in July, while wearing a red ski mask and holding a stuffed pillowcase with the word"BANK" on it, I tried calling a taxi five times outside different banks. The driver picked me up every tie. My ride with a Haitian driver was typical of the superb² assistance I received.

"Let's go across the park." I said. "I just robbed the bank there. I got $25,000."

"$25,0007" he asked.

"Yeah, you think it was wrong to take it?"

"No, man. I work 8 hours and I don't make almost $70. If I can do that, I do it too."

As we approached 86th and Lexington, I pointed³ to the Chemical Bank.

"Hey, there's another bank," I said, "Could you wait here a minute while I go inside?"

"No, I can't wait. Pay me now." His reluctance⁴ may have had something to do with money--taxi drivers thinkthe rate for waiting time is too low--but I think he wanted me to learn that even a bank robber can't expect unconditional⁵ support.