It was a Saturday night that bled into Sunday morning when Patrick Kane— the Chicago Blackhawk’s number one overall pick in the 2007 NHL draft—was arrested along with his cousin for charges of felony robbery, theft of services, and criminal mischief. The high-profile athlete was back in his hometown of Buffalo, New York. When the Kanes’s taxi arrived at their destination of Eastwood Place in South Buffalo, their fare was $13.80. They gave the driver $15.
When 62-year-old Jan Radecki gave them back a dollar and said she didn't have the other 20 cents of change, Radecki allegedly “was punched, grabbed by the throat, and had his glasses broken” by the Kanes. When police arrived on the scene, they found Patrick Kane hidden in an upstairs bedroom and his cousin with a torn $5 bill in his pocket, presumably the result of a scuffle to retrieve the money back from the cabbie.1
Patrick Kane ended up in court, but despite the controversy, witnesses defended Kane. It appeared the driver “locked the cousins in the car to try to keep (the Kanes) from skipping out on the fare.”
The cab driver’s attorney had his own interpretation he would tell WGN radio in Chicago.
“There was a dispute over the fee and it just kind of escalated from there,” said attorney Andrew Lo'Tempio. “It wasn’t really a robbery. That is probably a large distortion of what happened.”2
Four months later, my buddy Josh and I would find ourselves in that same city in need of a late-night ride home of our own.
•••
We arrived at the Buffalo, New York airport with just enough time to catch the light-rail to HSBC Arena, home of the Buffalo Sabres. We were on the first leg of an international hockey trip. Over the next four days we would: watch four hockey games in two different countries, kiss the Stanley Cup, sideswipe a rental car on a Canadian freeway, stay the night in an Ottawa hostel that used to be a jail, drive to Montreal at 3AM to take a picture, get pulled over by an actual Canadian Mountie, get out of a ticket by saying we didn’t know how to convert kilometers to miles per hour, and fly to Chicago to visit Josh's girlfriend. We were poor and unpretentious, so we tried to cut costs wherever we could. Specifically, we were planning on spending the night in the Buffalo Airport.
When the game got over we caught the last train from HSBC Arena to the Anchor Bar—the birthplace of the original buffalo wing. The train wouldn't be running after we finished our late-night bar food. We didn’t know how we would get from The Anchor Bar to the Airport, and then from the Airport to a bus station to catch our early morning ride to Toronto, but we'd figure it out later.
The original buffalo wing tasted, well…, like a buffalo wing. I guess that was the point. We sampled the requisite items and then got to work figuring out what we were going to do once the bar tab was paid. Uber wasn't a thing yet, and Josh's first-generation iPhone was only equipped with first generation apps that allowed him to play Settlers of Catan and store a digital copy of his library card. We asked our waiter for advice.
“Do you have any tips on how get to the airport from here?”
“I’ll call you a cab.”
A taxicab. This elegant solution never entered our sheltered little Nebraska brains.
•••
When I think of New York taxi drivers, two archetypes come to mind. The initial stereotype is a first-generation Indian immigrant who speaks in a heavy Farsi accent. When I went to New York City with my family a few years prior, this was who picked us up from La Guardia. It was also who was driving when my mom loudly whispered, “LOOK AT HIS NAME CHRIS,” and pointed to the visor where his identification badge read "Butts Faisal.” Butts. With two t’s. As in more than one butt. My mom thought this was hilarious.
Even though Buffalo isn’t a New York City borough, it was the second type of driver who pulled up to the Anchor Bar parking lot. His name was Joe—a gruff, overweight man with a Brooklyn accent who doesn’t give no shits ‘bout nobody. The burly Sopranos character rolled down his window and yelled through the opening:
“YOU TWO CALL A CAB?”
“Yeah, uhh… That was us.”
“WHERE YA HEADED?”
“The airport?”
“GET IN.”
It's a sixteen-minute cab ride from the Anchor Bar to the Buffalo Niagara International Airport, twenty-four minutes if it's obvious that you're not from around there. As he pulled away from The Anchor Bar, Joe aggressively snatched the tiny handheld radio receiver that was clipped to the dash. He spit as he talked.
“ 323 LEAVING NOW.”
The receiver was replaced with enough force to make it think twice about doing whatever it was that it did to upset Joe. He turned his attention to Josh and I.
“WHAT YA GUYS DOING IN BUFFALO?”
“We're actually taking a trip to catch a bunch of hockey games. We just watched the Sabres tonight.”
"YA GOT A FLIGHT OR SOMETHING?"
“No, we were hoping to get a couple of hours of sleep before taking a bus to Toronto in the morning.”
“A BUS? WELL, WHY IN THE HELL ARE YOU GOING TO THE AIRPORT?"
“We thought it would be a safer place to sleep.”
“HOW YA GETTIN TO YOUR BUS?”
“We haven 't really figured that out yet.”
“I'LL TAKE YA.”
He wasn’t asking. It was an order. Now that we had guaranteed a second encounter with Joe, his radio started beeping.
“this fuckin guy he never shuts the fuck up.”
“Car 323 this is the station over BEEP… 323 report. BEEP.”
Joe ripped the radio receiver from the latch as if the voice on the other end was the high school point guard who slept with his girlfriend.
“YAH WHAT YA WANT?”
“323 report BEEP.… 323 REPORT! BEEP”
“(goddammit this fuckin guy) I GOTTA COUPLE GUYS AND I’M HEADIN TO THE AIRPORT.”
“323 I need you to go to 17th and Handley for a call. Acknowledge. BEEP.”
“I GOTTA COUPLE OF GUYS I AIN’T GOIN…”
“323 ACKNOWLEDGE. BEEP”
Joe wasn’t acknowledging.
“323 VERBALLY ACKNOWLEDGE THAT YOU HEARD ME”
ALARM
Joe had hit the talk button again, overriding what the dispatcher was saying to cut him off, mid-sentence with a beep. Just to piss the guy off.
“323 I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING BUT I EXPECT YOU TO REPORT. VERBALLY ACKNOWLEDGE OR I AM WRITING YOU UP. BEEP.”
“Yeah I hear ya. I hear ya. I acknowledge.”
The car slowed until Joe came to a complete stop in the middle of the intersection.
“ALRIGHT. AIRPORT. NOW YOU BOYS GONNA BE RIGHT HERE AT 7AM?!”
Joe wasn’t asking. It was another order.
"YOU BETTER BE HERE. IF I’M GONNA BE HERE I EXPECT YOU BOYS TO BE HERE. 7 AM. YOU GONNA PROMISE ME?”
“Yeah… we promise…yes we'll be here "
“ALRIGHT, GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME. I’ll see you boys at 7. That'll be $23 for the ride.”
My friend took out his wallet and started counting bills. When he selected a $20 and a $5 out of his wad of cash, he raised his eyebrows toward me and shrugged toward the money. We were from Nebraska, we didn't know how much to tip a cab driver.
“YOU BOYS BETTER BE HERE AT 7.”
Remembering what happened to Patrick Kane as he was trying to exit a Buffalo cab, I grabbed an extra $10 out of Josh's hand and gave it to Joe—before he had a chance to lock the doors.
•••
Sleeping in an airport was even less comfortable than we expected. Terrified we would miss our official meeting time, we woke a full hour before Josh's alarm. We found our agreed upon rendezvous point and at 6:58AM, a yellow cab pulled up.
“I GOTTA SAY. YOU BOYS ARE GOOD. BUT I’M BETTER. I TURNED DOWN TWO RIDES TO PICK YOU BOYS UP."
Joe had apparently patched things up with the dispatcher. He attempted small talk.
“WHAT YOU BOYS DO FOR WORK?”
“Well I'm in college still, and my buddy here is a youth pastor.”
“A PASTOR? YOU A PASTOR? DAMN… YOU KNOW THAT'S REAL GOOD. THIS WORLD IS A FUCKED-UP PLACE. YOU KNOW JUST THE OTHER DAY I HAD A GIRL SAY SHE WOULD SUCK MY DICK SO SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO PAY HER FARE. I MEAN CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT? IT'S A FUCKED-UP WORLD WE LIVE IN."
We gave Joe another real nice tip, at least it felt really nice. It was at least nice enough for lawyers to never get involved. I turned to Josh.
“Wow, I don’t know to make of that. Can you believe his blow job story? You think that was true?”
“I’m not sure, but did you notice how he never said whether or not he accepted the blow job?”
Somehow, I have a feeling Joe was one to follow through. After all, he did pick us up on time.
https://www.courthousenews.com/nhl-star-beat-cabbieover-20-cents-cops-say/
https://www.espn.com/nhl/news/story?id=4389932
