(United States) P. Schrader,
Wang Liao/Pan Guizhen translated
all my beliefs in life are based on my current understanding of loneliness: as a far from rare and repellent phenomenon, Loneliness is an important and inevitable fact in human existence. ----- Thomas Wolf
Travis Becker was about twenty-six or seventeen years old. He was wearing jeans, cowboy boots, a checkered shirt, and an old brown military jacket. There is a military logo "King Kong Company 1968-1970" on the sleeve. Although he is thin, he is very strong, and at first glance he looks very attractive, even quite handsome. His eyes are calm and focused, his smile is sincere, and this smile will make him radiant unexpectedly. However, behind this smile is the beast-like tension that life brings to him, and what dominates this tension is the mysterious sense of fear and loneliness.
Travis wandered the nightlife of New York with other ghosts like a gloomy ghost. He has completely integrated with this kind of nightlife, and it is even difficult for you to recognize him immediately. Besides, who wants to recognize him?
In him, there is a kind of sexual distress that has nowhere to vent, and there is an undiscovered, unstoppable man's energy. No one knows where this power will take him. However, the clockwork of a clock must not be over-tightened. Just as the earth must revolve around the sun, Travis Becker is inevitably heading towards cruelty and violence.
Travis is looking for a job.
The plot of the film begins with a taxi garage in Manhattan. From time to time, cars drive in and out of the garage. On both sides of the road is a pile of snow. The wind is howling. There are rows of taxis in the garage. The noise of the idling motor and the conversation of the drivers can be heard.
The half-open door of the offices in the corridor of the taxi office says:
Recruitment Office
Mebis Taxi Company
Blue and White Taxi Company
Akem Taxi Company Deshendar Bay
Taxi Service Center
Jay Albee
Taxi Service Center... The
office is very busy. The recruitment office is crowded and hectic. Note with the names of Mebis Taxi Company, Blue and White Taxi Company, Acme Taxi Company, etc. hung on the peeling wall. The writing desk is full of forms, reports, and there is also an old typewriter. A clerk sitting behind the desk was talking with a young man. He is Travis Becker. He still wears jeans, cowboy boots and military jacket. He smokes a cigarette without a filter. His nervous and indifferent look and indifferent look can make even the recruitment office staff who are older than this intolerable. However, the staff member was very friendly. The questions he asked showed that he wanted to know more about Travis and understand him better.
Clerk (voice-over): What requirements did the Automobile Bureau make of you?
Travis (voice-over): No, sir.
Staff (voice-over): Has it been approved?
Travis: Approved.
Clerk: Why do you want to be a taxi driver?
Travis: I can't sleep every night.
Clerk: You can go to a porn movie theater, it is said to be good.
Travis: I know, I have tried it.
Clerk: So what are you doing now?
Travis: I travel east and west every night, in the subway, in the bus, I am observing life, and then I thought, why don't I make some money at the same time?
Clerk: I said, we don't want "anyone" here.
Travis (with a sneer that can barely be detected): Forget it... Is it so easy to find people who are willing to work the night shift in the Southern Bronske or Harlem?
Clerk: Why, are you willing to work night shifts in those places every day?
Travis: I am ready to work anywhere, anytime, I have nothing to fault.
Clerk (after thinking for a moment): Are your documents complete?
Travis: Everything is clean and I am serious. (Pause for a moment, slightly sneer) My conscience is also clean.
Clerk: Listen, dear, if you are here to brag, get out of here.
Travis (sorry): Please forgive me, sir, I didn't want this.
Clerk: How is your health? Have any previous convictions?
Travis: Everything is normal in these respects.
Clerk: How old are you?
Travis: 26 years old.
Staff: Education level?
Travis: I have taken certain courses at a certain time and place.
Clerk: How is your military service?
Travis: I was decently discharged from the army in 1971.
Clerk: Do you want to make some extra money?
Travis: No, I want to do a full-time job.
Clerk (as if talking to himself casually): Many of us here are here to make extra money.
Travis: I heard.
Clerk: You can find a job in any fleet. (Searching in the desk drawer, and taking out some pink, yellow and white forms) Please fill out these forms, and then give them to the girl sitting behind that desk. By the way, don't forget to leave your phone number. Do you have a phone number?
Travis: No.
Clerk: So, let's take a look tomorrow.
Travis: Good, sir.
On the background of Manhattan’s nightlife, there are subtitles for the film’s credits -------
Manhattan Theater District, a wet night with rainy spring. Some well-dressed pedestrians greeted the taxi in a hurry. The upper class people gathered at the entrances of the theaters seemed a little confused, how the rain made them wet with the poor as the same. The constant sound of car horns, people's shouts, and the patter of rain merged together. Yellow, red, and green lights are reflected on sidewalks and cars. Taxi drivers often say: "On rainy days, the taxi driver is the king and God of the city." The situation tonight confirmed this sentence. It seems that only taxis did not notice what was happening, they were just sliding in the rain...
The tourists in Upper Manhattan were gradually dwindling. Here, the heavy rain showered the street homeless and poor old people. However, the pimps are still standing at the crossroads searching for clients for the prostitutes. Taxis serve them. The cast and crew subtitles continued to move, and the sound on the screen gradually weakened, but it was clear that the sound seemed to be coming from a shop on the corner of the street.
After showing the audience the nightlife of Manhattan, the camera slowly turned to the car driven by Travis Becker. End of subtitles.
Let's get to know
the yellow car that Travis Travis drove parked on Fifth Avenue. It's raining non-stop. An old woman folded her umbrella and got into the car. Travis waited a moment, then drove off the sidewalk abruptly.
Travis' car drove hurriedly on the damp street. We heard his voice. He was reading a snippet from his diary-
Travis (monotonous voice-over): April 10, 1972. Thank God, the heavy rain finally washed away some of the dirt on the street. Now I work in two shifts by one person, from 6 o'clock to 6 o'clock, sometimes from 6 o'clock in the evening to 8 o'clock the next morning, six days a week. (A well-dressed man stops Travis' car) Busy all day, but I have a job. I earn $300 to $500 a week, with a tip, and sometimes I earn more.
Well-dressed person (sitting in the back seat): Master, the JFK airport is not closed, right?
Travis had a piece of bread and French fries beside him that had not been eaten. He pinched out the smoke, swallowed the food and replied: "Why is the airport shutting down?"
Well-dressed person: I tell you, I just looked at the spire of the Empire State Building, because it was foggy, I couldn't see the spire!
Travis: Well, it may be closed.
Well-dressed person: If you can't see the Empire State Building in the fog, do you understand what it means? Do you understand or do you not understand? What is the license plate of your car, sir?
Travis: Wouldn't you call to ask?
Well-dressed person (impatiently): I don't have time, in short, you don't understand.
Travis: I don't understand.
Well-dressed person: But you should understand. Who else should understand besides you? Just stop here (pointing out the window). Why don't you stick your stupid head out of this hapless car window to see if there is any damn fog?
Travis parked the car on the sidewalk. The well-dressed man stuffed the money in the cash box, he jumped out of the car and called for another taxi.
Travis (voice-over): I go anywhere in the city, wherever I work.
A dark-skinned prostitute, wearing a light-colored wig, white plastic boots, and a mini skirt, stopped the car. She supported a half-drunk guy. Travis stopped the car. The prostitute and her client got into the back seat, and Travis observed them in the rearview mirror.
Travis (voice-over): Some drivers don't pull black people, it doesn't matter to me.
Travis' car drove through Central Park. From the back seat came the sound of humming and the intermittent gasping, the prostitute and the client were having sex.
Client (voice-over): Oh, my little fairy.
Prostitute (voice-over, can't wait): Hey, come on.
Travis looked ahead indifferently.
Travis's residence is in a building that has been in disrepair. He was sitting at the table writing something, and under the coffee cup was a pack of crumpled cigarette boxes. Notebooks are common bargains with lattices. Travis wrote down what we have heard with a pencil. His writing is straight, neat, and angular. We saw his room. There is an old mattress against the wall. Scattered on the ground were old newspapers, dilapidated urban road maps, and some pornographic pictures—black and white photos of naked women with black leather belts and underwear straps wrapped around them. Except for a rickety chair and a table, there is no furniture. An old TV set is placed on a wooden box containing fruit. A crumpled red silk cloth hung in the corner, reminiscent of the flag of Vietnam. Some inexplicable numbers and words were written crookedly on the bare, unpainted walls. There used to be a telephone on the wall, but now only the torn black wire end is left.
Travis (voice-over): They are all beasts that appear at night. Smelly prostitutes, homosexuals, unfortunate drug addicts, psychopaths, villains who sell their souls-they crawl out every night. (Silence) When will a heavy rain wash away all the dirt from the street?
early morning. Fresh air. Hardly anyone can be seen on the street. Travis drove the car into the garage.
Travis (voice-over): Every time I drive into the garage, I have to clean up the dirt that people have left behind, sometimes with blood stains.
Travis parked his car in the garage. He took out a small medicine bottle from the crevice of the sun visor and hid it in his pocket, opened the back door of the car, got into the seat, shook out a cigarette from the cigarette case and started smoking.
After a while, Travis registered in the office. Broken boards are nailed to the dirty plaster walls. On the boards are handwritten schedules, work schedules, and notices for drivers.
"Attention everyone! A sound-minded driver must be mentally prepared for accidents at all times. When a night shift driver is troubled by an unfortunate incident, he must immediately call Gardson at 2-3410 and go to the West End before 9 a.m. Report at 43 61st Street. Remember, the speed must be adapted to the conditions on the road. Don’t brake
too hard .” There were a few drivers in the office who looked very tired. They were all dozing, but they were still chatting. We can hear only a few words from them.
First driver: ...I'm thirsty, thirsty like a beast. I parked the car, opened the cover, looked at the engine (gesturing), I stood with my tools in my hand. Suddenly a young man came over and asked me if I wanted to help. I said I was checking the battery, but at the same time I... (how to pour water out)
Second driver: If he thinks that I will be there at night like this Go to the outskirts of the city, then let him try.
The third driver (on the phone): Forget it, ignore that hapless horse, no, no, I am not at the racecourse, but bet on the phone. I was almost able to win 7,000 yuan, so what about the next round?
Fourth driver: This bitch has slept with all drivers, but they didn't even give her a drink.
Travis handed the clerk to the clerk, walked out of the office, put his hands in his jacket pockets, and walked along Broadway contentedly. There are no pedestrians on the sidewalks, only tireless vendors who set up fruit and vegetable stalls on the streets. He took a deep breath of fresh air, took a white pill from his pocket and put it in his mouth.
A movie theater that shows pornographic films day and night. The theater is decorated with red and green neon lights, which do not match this pure and fresh morning. The sign read: "Eden" cinema, a 16mm cinema with sound. The handwritten film titles under the ad are: "Six Days of Cruise" and "Beaver's Dyke". Travis bought the ticket and walked into the cinema.
He stopped in the aisle of the theater for a while, then walked to the counter selling snacks in the cinema. A shameless saleswoman stood bored in the shabby counter. The counter was covered with a piece of crimson velvet and there was a plaster statue of Venus on it. The sound of the film came from the auditorium.
Saleswoman: What are you buying?
Travis propped his elbow on the counter and looked at the saleswoman. He obviously wanted to please her, and it was not an easy task for him to make people like himself. However, God testified that he too needed to talk to someone.
Travis: What do you call it? My name is Travis.
Saleswoman: Hi, boy, don't come to this set.
Travis: Don't do that, to be honest, I'm serious.
Saleswoman: Do you want me to call the boss? Is it? Do you want this?
Travis: No, no, I don't want anything. You bring me a large glass of Coca-Cola without ice cubes, a large bag of cream popcorn, and...a little chocolate toffee...and a small box of fruit jelly. It can take time to eat.
Saleswoman: No jelly, no Coca-Cola, only Crown Coke.
Travis: Great.
Saleswoman: One dollar and 47 cents.
Travis took out two dollars and put it on the counter.
Travis in the theater where Coke, eat popcorn and chocolate, his eyes leave the screen, uploaded to the man's voice from the screen:
"Come here, bitch, I'll tear you in half."
Trevi Si's voice replaced the man's voice.
Travis (voice-over): After 12 hours of work, I still can't fall asleep. The daylight is prolonging indefinitely, and there is no end in sight.
Let’s get to know Bessie’s
"American Presidential Candidate Charles Palatan New York Citizens' Election Committee" headquarters is decorated with red, white, and blue flags that symbolize the national flag, color bars and placards. One placard reads "Palatan", and the other reads: "Please register at the New York headquarters before the primary election. The election will be held on July 20." Smiling Charles Palatan, a middle-aged man People, looking down at the pedestrians passing by below from the big placard.
In the headquarters, some young people were sorting through piles of papers while chatting happily. The room kept ringing harsh telephone bells.
Travis was only observing these people from a distance. They are strong, energetic, pampered, and beautiful people. Look at this Bessie, a very attractive woman about 25 years old. Behind her face with a cover girl, there are delicate and deep feelings. She carefully observes every man and assesses how much he meets her ideals, and assesses their political, intellectual, sexy, emotional, and property conditions. In short, the outstanding qualities of a man are attractive to her.
Bessie finished the call and called Tom to her table. Tom is a beautiful young man with long hair and a tall thin man. He does not have the special qualities that attract Bessie, and therefore has no chance to establish an intimate relationship with her, but he still has not lost hope.
Bessie: I think that the pre-election work summary report is almost ready. You can talk to Andy. If you agree, you will prepare a copy of the report to all county election support committees ( Pause for a while), don’t forget to post photos.
Tom: The senator’s political program is almost ready, Bessie, maybe it will be sent out when the program is finished?
Bessie: Usually Andy sends this kind of stuff to the national media. Anyway, the local media didn't know how to deal with these programmatic documents before the United Press International or the Associated Press explained everything to them.
Tom: I think we must work hard to ensure the widest possible publicity of the necessary new social security program, and its ideological connotations should be explained.
Bessie (in the tone of speaking with a child): At first it is to push out people, and then it is thought. Senator Palatan is first of all an energetic man, he is very smart, very attractive, and an intriguing man.
Tom: You should say "sexy person".
Bessie: I didn't forget.
Tom: Ah, you didn't have time to say it, did you?
Bessie: Here, that's enough, Tom.
Tom: Oh my god, after listening to you, I think, you are selling...I don't know...you are selling cars, not thinking.
Bessie: You never thought, why CBS has the highest ratings?
Tom: Because most people watch it.
Bessie: Forget it, we won't talk about this, if you can't talk seriously.
Tom: Okay...I'm listening very much. I just...
Bessie: Just what?
Tom: Just kidding.
Bessie (look at the street, then Tom): You know, if you use your brain, you might be a useful talent.
Tom: What kind of talent is it?
Bessie: Here, okay, do you want to know why CBS has the highest ratings? Think about it, how are their news reports different from the National Broadcasting Corporation or the American Broadcasting Corporation? There is no difference, it's all the same. Even the broadcasting method is the same. Maybe you think they have some good news, so people like to watch CBS, right? Let me tell you why everyone loves to watch CBS. It's because of Cronkite. Do you understand? Not news, not thoughts, but people. If Walter Cronkite persuades people to eat soap, they will do the same. Damn it, ours does sell cars.
Something on the street diverted Bessie's attention. She put on her glasses and looked across the street.
Tom: Well, since Cronkite is such an outstanding talent, why don't we recommend him to run for president?
Bessie: Stop it. I can't say any more. period. Some people can learn something, some people just can't learn it. And you're still asking why we can't talk seriously...
Tom: No, really, you can recommend him. Think about it, he is already the president of your neighborhood.
Bessie (looks at the street again): Didn't you find any peculiar phenomena?
Tom: No, what's the matter?
Bessie: Why is the taxi driver across the street staring at us like that?
Tom: Which driver?
Bessie: It's the driver who has been sitting there.
Tom: Has he been sitting for a long time?
Bessie: I don't know, it seems to have been sitting for a long time.
Travis looked indifferently and intently from the car parked across from Palatan's campaign headquarters. He is like a lone wolf, observing the warm bonfire of the civilized world from a distance. Tom and Travis' eyes met.
Tom: Let me ask what's going on.
Tom took a firm step into the street and walked towards Travis' car. Travis spotted the young man approaching, hurriedly started the car, and drove away abruptly. Tom looked at the back of the taxi leaving quickly. The car continued along Broadway.
It's Travis's diary fragment again
. Travis's room. He was lying on the mattress and looking at the ceiling. There are several medicine bottles (one large for vitamins and two small for pills) and a brandy bottle next to it.
Travis (voice-over): I was born with a lack of the ability to discern directions, a lack of sense of direction where I should go. I don't believe that people have to make unhealthy self-analysis throughout their lives. I should be a decent person.
The night of another day. Travis' car was driving along Broadway, with a "off work" signal on the roof.
Palatan campaigns for headquarters. Some staff are working. The seat where Bessie often sits is empty.
5th Avenue. That night. Bustling Manhattan people hurried past, busy with their own affairs. It's hard to read the list of people, because this is a large group of people.
Travis (voice-over): The first time I saw her was in the Palatan campaign headquarters, which was at the junction of 58th Street and Broadway Street. She was wearing a cream white dress sitting at the table and talking on the phone.
Suddenly, Bessie, who was slender in a fashionable dress, appeared in the crowd. The crowd drew away like a low tide in the sea, so she appeared in front of us: she was alone, detached from the crowd, detached from time and space.
Travis (voice-over): She appeared like an angel, out of this vulgar flow of people, out of this sewage ditch. She is unparalleled, and none of them dare to touch her.
Travis was writing a diary in his room, the pencil end staying next to the word "her".
Talk in the dirty tavern
It was 3:30 in the morning. A night tavern in the West Side of Manhattan. Strong smell of oil smoke, tobacco, sweat and alcohol. All the social scum of New York nightlife wanders in these places. The sturdy cook stood in front of the stove, covered in greasy dirt. The drug addicts turned around near the doorway. There are a few black people sitting at a small table covered with plastic tablecloths (in this kind of place, at this time, they look so good). The homeless and frail elderly holding a cup of coffee in their hands are like holding their last possessions. At the end of the tavern, three drivers were sitting a little further away: the old man (about 50 years old, but looks older), the dollar (a young man), and Charlie Jean (a black man about 40 years old).
The old man was talking to the dollar, Charlie Jean looked at the cold fried eggs on the plate with his head in his hands.
Old man: At first she was wearing makeup and I couldn't bear it. She dressed up carefully: applying mascara, drawing eye circles, applying lipstick and then reddening her cheek...
U.S. dollar: not red, but rouge.
Old man: I also used a small brush...
Travis appeared at the door. In order to enter the tavern, he had to push a drug addict open with the door. He didn't want to touch him, which made him sick. Maybe he hates these people and this kind of place, but he doesn't want this kind of emotion to show through.
Old man (mechanically waved to Travis): Travis.
Travis: Hello, old man (sit down at the table facing the back of the chair).
Dollar (I don't know if he winks, or winks unintentionally): Yes, this is rouge. My wife has this.
Old man (sarcastically): Just ask Travis, he can study women very well.
Travis shrugged and ordered a cup of coffee.
Old man: All in all, she has finished painting with these broken things. Then the spray perfume was sprinkled. The smell was pretty good...so we drove onto the Trabolo Bridge, and guess what, she actually took off her pantyhose!
Dollar: Damn it.
Travis pretended not to be interested, he was just pretending to be.
Old man: That's right.
USD: So have you seen anything?
Old man: Of course she pulls down the skirt as much as possible, but it's obvious what she is doing. I'm telling you, God, that was almost paralyzed during rush hour.
Dollar: So what did you do?
Old man: What can I do? I stopped the car and looked obliquely in the back seat, forcing her to panic and panic. (Everyone laughs). What can I do? I have to tell you all the details.
Dollar: Yeah.
Old man: What else can I do? I sat and looked in the rearview mirror, you know, I watched every movement of her.
Dollar: Did she see you observing her?
The waitress brought Travis a cup of coffee and a glass of water, and he ordered another cheese bread.
Old man: Of course, guess what? She wanted to sneak out of the car. I said, hello, you are in the middle of the bridge, fuck your mother...
U.S. dollar: You scolded her like that? To her mother?
Old man: I said to her like this: "Excuse me, ma'am, we are on the bridge..."
U.S. dollar: Here, what happened later?
Travis was also waiting for the old man's answer.
Old man: Of course she stayed in the car, what else can she do? However, she didn't give a tip, this beast.
Dollar: It's livestock.
The old man suddenly realized that maybe Travis didn't know the drivers yet.
The old man (fatherly): Travis, this is the dollar, this is Charlie Jean, do you know?
Charlie Jean nodded sleepily. Travis said he knew the dollar.
Dollar: We know each other, we are classmates at Harvard University (laughs).
Old man: Call him US dollars, because he loves money like his life. In order to earn an extra US dollar, he also went to New Jersey.
Dollar: Don't talk nonsense. (Pointing to the people present here) Who wants to stay up all night and get a handful when they get off work in the morning?
Travis drank his coffee calmly. Charlie Jean closed his eyes.
Old man (to Travis): How was your little life?
Travis (indifferently): A driver of Bell's company was killed. Let's listen to the radio now.
Dollar: Is it to grab money?
Travis: No, a psychopath grabbed the driver's ear and cut it off.
USD: Where is it?
Travis: In the jungle, 122th Street.
Travis turned his gaze to the other regulars in the tavern. There were three homeless men sitting at a table. One of the young men took the medicine and stared blankly. A sloppy but attractive girl leaned her head on her lad's shoulder (he has a bushy beard and a band around his head), they kissed, teased each other, for them, at this moment Except for them, there is nothing in the world anymore. Travis stared at the hippies. He looked down on them and their way of life, and felt very useless because of his vague envy. They can enjoy love, but he never did. Obviously, this mysterious passion made Travis feel pleasing to the eye, so he looked at the couple intently.
Dollar (voice-over, changing topic): Travis, you are soliciting customers in the city, right?
Travis (in the conversation): What did you say?
USD: I mean, your passengers are grumpy young people, aren't they?
Travis (understood what he was referring to): Sometimes this is the case.
USD: Do you drive with a gun? Do you need a gun?
Travis: No, (pause for a moment) I don't seem to need it.
The waitress slammed the dirty cup and plate with water on the table. The small bread with cheese on the plate was like a crumpled human head on the tray.
Dollar: If you need it, a guy I know can get real stuff at a fair price.
Old man: If the police or company boss knows, there will be a lot of trouble.
Travis put two pills for treating stomach problems in the cup.
Dollars: Truck drivers sell a cannon-style weapon that can be fired in their hands. But this young man doesn't sell fake weapons. He only sells quality products. If necessary, I can introduce to you.
Old man: There is a price to pay.
US Dollar: It is to pay a certain price.
Old man: I never use my own weapons, but it does not matter if I have them. I can scare people if necessary.
Dollar (stands up): It's time. As long as the drivers eat breakfast here, many passengers will gather on the street, and I am going to work.
Old man: U.S. dollars, what do you want so much money for?
Dollar: To feed the children, understand? (Pause) Travis, everything goes well. Goodbye old man. (Nodding to Charlie Jean) Greet Malcolm.
Charlie Gene was motionless-----sleeping. The dollar went away. Travis looked at the old man with a smile. They obviously had nothing to say, and the old man didn't want to have anything to say.
Travis looked at the tavern, and it was business as usual.
Bessie met Travis Becker
and another day passed. Palatan campaigns for headquarters. The car passed by.
Travis walked quickly across Broadway, towards the Palatan campaign headquarters. We have never seen him dressed like this: well-ironed pants (not jeans), polished leather shoes, and neatly combed hair. Under the military jacket is a newly changed shirt with a dignified tie.
When observing Travis, we were surprised to find that his appearance is very attractive. It is true that he appears very thin due to lack of sleep and malnutrition.
Travis quickly walked into the room and went straight to Bessie's desk. Tom wanted to say hello to him, but Travis ignored it.
Travis (standing at Bessie's desk): I volunteer for voluntary work.
Tom (interrupting): Can you come to me?
Travis (pushing Tom away with his elbow and asking Bessie directly): I would rather work with you.
Tom (in a low voice): Bessie.
Bessie gestured to Tom with an imperceptible gesture, indicating that everything was normal and Tom could walk away. Tom leaves.
Bessie (curiously): Why do you want to work with me?
Travis was high-spirited. He smiled slightly-
Travis: Because you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.
Bessie was stunned for a moment, but she was quite proud. She felt that there was something special about the young man standing in front of her, and his charming smile. She might say: "He is an irresistible person."
Bessie (smiling): Is this true? (Pause) What is your opinion of Palatan?
Travis (he is thinking about something else): Who are you talking about, ma'am?
Bessie: It's Charles Palatan. It's the person you volunteered to help become president.
Travis: I think he is an amazing person. Will become a great president.
Bessie: Would you like to participate in the pre-election publicity work?
Travis: Yes, ma'am.
Bessie: What do you think of Palatan's position on social relief?
This question made Travis a bit at a loss. He obviously has no idea about Palatan's social relief issue. And, generally speaking, he never thinks about political issues. However, he calmly answered: "About social relief, ma'am? I think the senator is right. People should earn money and live. I do this, and I do it every day. I like work. Use social wealth. What's the point of feeding these old immortal guys? Let them do some work even to understand Boring."
Bessie: This is not exactly a senator's proposal. Maybe you are unwilling to engage in pre-election propaganda work. You can also do office work, or write cards or hang slogans.
Travis: I am a very good staff, Ms. Bessie, indeed a very good staff.
Bessie: If you talk to Tom, he will assign some tasks.
Travis: If you have no objection, madam, I am only willing to work for you.
Bessie: All of us are working tonight.
Travis: Ms. Bessie, do you know that I drive a taxi every night.
Bessie: Well, what specific work do you want to do?
Travis (with courage): If you have no objection, madam, if you can have a cup of coffee with me anywhere, I will be very, very happy.
Bessie couldn't decide what to do with Travis. She is not only curious, but also very interested in him. She was attracted to this man like a moth, and she threw closer and closer to the flame.
Bessie: Why?
Travis: Ms. Bessie, take a look. I drove past here several times a day, and I often saw you sitting at a long and big table talking on the phone. I said to myself, this girl is lonely and she needs Friend, I am going to be her friend.
Travis smiled. Generally speaking, he seldom laughs, but sometimes his smile will make him radiant and show a charm that he doesn't seem to know. Bessie was completely disarmed.
Bessie: I don't know...
Travis: Madam, it's on the corner of the street. daytime. Everything will be in order. I'm around here, and I will protect you.
Bessie (smiling, her tone becomes gentle): Okay, okay, I will take a break at 4 o'clock. If you come at this time, we will go for a cup of coffee (pause).
Travis: Thank you very much, Ms. Bessie. I'll be there at 4 o'clock. (Pause) Hey... Bessie...
Bessie: What's the matter?
Travis: My name is Travis.
Bessie: Nice to meet you, Travis.
Travis nodded and left. Tom pretended to be indifferent and listened to their conversation (actually, he was already in jealousy). He walked to Bessie. Obviously, he wanted to talk to her about the conversation just now, but she just shrugged and said it was none of his business.
Bessie: I just want to figure out what the taxi drivers have.
A date
in the cafe Travis walked around opposite the Palatan campaign headquarters on Broadway, checking his watch from time to time.
Travis (voice-over): April 26, 1972. 4 o'clock. I invited Bessie to the Mayfair Café...
Travis and Bessie were sitting in the single room of the small cafe, Travis turned the cup in his hand uneasily. The waitress brought what they wanted: Travis's apple pie and Bessie's fruit mix.
Travis (voice-over): I ordered coffee without milk and a piece of soft cheese apple pie for myself. I think this is a good choice. Bessie ordered coffee and a fruit mix. She can choose everything she likes.
Bessie (interrupting Travis's story): Today we registered 15,000 volunteers in New York, and they are preparing to promote Palatan. We encountered a lot of organizational problems.
Travis: I understand the problem you mentioned very well. I also have this difficulty. I can't organize my own affairs well. I am not referring to my own room and all kinds of daily sundries. I have to put up a sign at home, which should say: "I must arrange the seasons in the near future."
Travis missed "organization" as "group seasons." An infectious smile appeared on his face. Such a smile would make people's hearts beat faster, and Bessie couldn't help but be moved by such a smile.
Bessie (smiling): Travis, I have never seen anyone like you before.
Travis: I believe this.
Bessie: Where do you live?
Travis (vaguely): In Upper Town, a place, nothing special.
Bessie: Why did you decide to drive a taxi every night?
Travis: For a while I often drove during the day, but I had nothing to do at night. You know, I think it’s too lonely to wander around by yourself. So I decided to work at night. Being alone is not a pleasant thing.
Bessie: After get off work, I really want to be alone for a while.
Travis: Yes, of course... (Pauses) You can meet some people, many people in the taxi, which is very good.
Bessie: Who are these people?
Travis: How can I tell you, it's people (pause). Once it was dead.
Bessie: What's the matter?
Travis: He got a gunshot wound, I didn't know it at the time. He crawled in and sat down, said he was going to "West End, 45th Street", and then died.
Bessie: What did you do?
Travis: First, I stopped the taximeter because no one paid. Then I handed him over to the police station, and they accepted it.
Bessie: It's scary.
Travis: Everything can happen in a taxi, especially when there is a moon.
Bessie: The moon?
Travis: When the moon is round. One night, I met a group of ruffians. I looked up and it happened to be when the moon was round.
Bessie smiled.
Travis: I'm telling the truth. Those people do what they want in front of the driver, absolutely everything. Some people want to rent a hotel room because they don't have the money, some want to take drugs, and some want to insult you, as if you don't exist, you are not a human, and you are someone who no one needs.
Bessie (interrupting him): Stop it, everything is not so bad. I often take a taxi.
Travis: I know, once I could have pulled you.
Bessie: Really?
Travis: It was late once, about 3 o'clock in the night, you were in the square.
Bessie: 3 o'clock in the morning? Really? I go to bed very early, I go to work during the day, maybe someone else?
Travis: No, it's you. You are holding a pale yellow briefcase and a saxophone rose red handbag in your hand.
Bessie understood, Travis was right. She quickly explained: "Oh, is that true, now I remember the people in charge of the West End to meet us there, drag the meeting late at night, the next day I was completely tired out, really terrible!.."
Special Lavis: If it wasn't for a drunk, I would definitely let you in the car. He is going to the demilitarized zone.
Bessie: Go to the demilitarized zone?
Travis: That is to say, go to South Brooks. There is nothing worse than this. I wanted to get rid of him, but he has gotten into the car, and I have to drag him away. This is a rule. If there is no him, I will let you in the car.
Bessie: This is really a wonderful coincidence.
Travis: You may not believe it. I often meet the same people and the same passengers. These people have certain habits. They do almost the same things every day. I know them.
Bessie: I don't go to the square every night.
Travis: I'm not talking about you, I'm talking in general. This is how a young man I know called Dollar, he met his wife and started talking. She said that when she usually took the bus, he would often drop her to the bus stop and then send her home without taking any money.
Bessie: This is too romantic Tick. Some passengers may be interesting characters. Have you ever met a star, a politician? Have you helped to have children?
Travis (embarrassed): No, no, I have met some famous people. (Remembering) There is a young man who is engaged in lasers. It is not a large one, but a small, pocket-sized one. You can pin it to your belt like a radio or a pistol. It's like a laser pistol, and it's done with a snap.
Bessie: How many hours do you work?
Travis: I work alone and no one takes over. That means I didn't take the time. I worked from 6 to 6 and sometimes until 8 o'clock. Do it for 72 hours a week.
Bessie: Really 72 hours a week?
Travis: Sometimes 76 hours or 78 hours. Sometimes I drive for a few more hours in the morning. Drive 80 miles during the day and 100 miles at night.
Bessie: You are probably a rich man.
Travis (with a gentle smile): We have to work.
Bessie: Do you know what you remind me of?
Travis: What?
Bessie: I think of a song by Chris Kristfasson. There is a line in this song: "Is he a prophet or a drug dealer, whether he is a truth or a lie, no one can tell." (smiles slightly. )
Travis (confused): I'm not a fool, Bessie, really, I never deal with drug addicts.
Bessie: I'm not referring to this, Travis, I'm talking about "no one can tell."
Travis (not so nervous): What's his name?
Bessie: Singer?
Travis: Yes. I am not very familiar with music.
Bessie (slowly): Chris Christfasson.
Travis stared at Bessie, and they smiled at each other.
In the record store,
Travis wandered in the record store at a loss. He didn't know where to find the record he needed. He looked at the delicate saleswoman, but didn't have the courage to ask her. . The saleswoman found his confused look and took the initiative to help him. Travis whispered Christfason's name to her. The saleswoman took out the record he wanted and packaged the record as a gift according to Travis's request. Travis walked out of the store, proudly holding the gorgeously packaged record.
Night shift
Travis held the steering wheel. We can see the view of the city in the rearview mirror, the same as that seen by Travis himself. The wireless phone makes noise due to interference, and you can hear the sound of a call. The green signal light turned on and the car started. There is a constant stream of pedestrians, ordinary people on the street-tramps, drug addicts, tourists, prostitutes, homosexuals, hippies are no longer noticeable. Now we are paying attention to those who come out of the crowd. Look, there is a man who wants to stop the car, maybe he just scratched the back of his head?
There will probably be three or four passengers in the next block. Our car drove forward quickly, hit a yellow light, and braked sharply. Let’s see what's going on here. These are tourists, they tip too little, let the next taxi driver pick it up. There is no special situation next. Oh, this time there is a drama: a local middle-aged woman, she may be going to the eastern region, the road will not be far, the tip will not be small. We parked the car by the side of the road and waited for her to get in. Have to wait a while, because a black man is walking by the car. Following Travis's eyes we noticed a young couple hugging. After the car got up, Travis explained to us the trick to find passengers.
Travis (voice-over): When you work at night, you develop an intuition. As long as you can tell from the smell, who will tip more, who will not give a penny, who may quarrel with you. In Manhattan, 25 cents is a lot of tip. More in Queens, more in Brooklyn. Try to find passengers with suitcases. The rich give less than anyone else. Prostitutes, I can't tolerate them. Black people are nothing. Of course they don't live on Park Avenue.
The meter is on: it shows 60 cents, beep, beep, beep. The woman who got in the car said softly, "No. 192, East Side, 89th Street." The car sprinted along 9th Avenue. How many times can I pass the green light continuously? Someone walked to the side of the road to call a taxi, but quickly retreated to the sidewalk. The meter already shows 90 cents, and soon there will be one dollar and 40 cents.
As the car drove through the park, we were almost at our destination, and we had to pay attention to the house number: 134-140. At the end of the block. We saw in the rearview mirror that the lady took out two banknotes and had to find her two 25-cent coins and a 10-cent coin. Only 25 cents or 35 cents left for tea.
Give her 35 cents—it means a lot of tips. Kind wife. We continue to drive forward. This is the world where Travis lives: dim alleys, dazzling streets with dazzling lights, people's fast-moving eyes, fast-changing thoughts-that is to say, dozens of things must be made in one minute. An urgent decision.
A passenger got out of Travis' car, and he parked it in the middle of a row of cars in the square.
Travis (voice-over): I called Bessie's office again and she said that after get off work tomorrow, we might go to the cinema together. Tomorrow is also my day off. At first she hesitated, I called again and she agreed. (Pause) Bessie. But what's the last name? I forgot to ask her. Hell, this kind of thing should be remembered.
When Travis was thinking of Bessie, three men got into his car.
Man (voice-over): St. Beggis Hotel.
Travis looked in the mirror and recognized a passenger in the back seat. This is Charles Palatan, the presidential candidate.
Tom sat on the folding seat, looked at his watch, and respectfully asked Palatan: "It's 12:30, and we have 15 minutes before the luncheon."
Palatan nodded. His assistant said: "I think if someone wants to make a choice here, then, on this point, there is no need to worry before the election results in California are reported."
Travis (interrupting the conversation): Hello, are you not the presidential candidate Palatan?
Palatan (a little nervously): Yes, I am.
Travis: Do you know that I am one of your staunch supporters. I told my passengers that I should vote for you.
Palatan (very happy, looked at Travis’ business license): Okay, thank you, Travis.
Travis: I believe you will win, sir. Everyone I know wants to vote for you. (Pause) I want to put a slogan you put forward in the car, but the company says it violates its rules.
Palatan (very satisfied): Please believe, Travis, I can learn more about this country in the taxi than in the conference hall of the head office.
Tom (jokingly): It's also better than in some other places...
Palatan: Travis, what major innovations do you expect the future president to have?
Travis: I don't know, sir, I don't care much about politics.
Palatan: However, there is always something to do...
Travis (think about it for a moment): Maybe he should clean up the city, it's too dirty, messy, and filthy. It is like an open sewage ditch, which is sometimes intolerable. You can smell this odor when you walk on the street, and then you will feel a headache, and it can't be cured. A president who can put order in order and clean everything thoroughly is needed.
Travis's frank answer made Palatan a little bit at a loss, and he had to answer him in an official manner, even though he tried to make his own words have a deep meaning.
Palatan (after a pause): I know these things, Travis, but it's not easy to get it all right. What we have to do is prepare for radical changes.
Travis (turns the steering wheel): That's right.
The car stopped in front of the restaurant. Palatan and Tom got out of the car, and the assistant paid Travis. Palatan nodded when he said goodbye----
Paratan: It was a pleasant conversation with you, Travis.
Travis: Thank you, sir. You are a good man, sir.
Paratan, surrounded by his assistants, walked towards the hotel along the carpeted path. He stopped suddenly, watching Travis' taxi leaving the hotel. Manhattan streets of
tryst night
. evening. Travis, dressed in beautiful clothes, walked with excitement. The face is cleanly shaved, the hair is neatly combed, and the tie is well-knitted. He paused for a moment in front of the window to examine himself, and he was still holding Christphasson's record wrapped as a gift.
Dressed up, Bessie walked out to greet Travis after shaking hands with a colleague in front of the Palatan campaign headquarters. They walked along Broadway, they were going to Times Square. She walked at a distance from him, and he tried to approach her quietly.
Bessie opened the gift bag and was very happy to see the record, perhaps because she was pleased with the gift itself. Travis felt very proud, because this was one of his happiest moments.
Bessie: Why is it so wasteful...
Travis (interrupting her): God, what else can I do with money?
Bessie (found that the record has not been opened): You haven't even listened to it yet?
Travis (vaguely): My stereo turntable is broken. However, I believe the record is fine.
Bessie: Is your stereo broken? Oh my god, how do you live your life? I can't live without music.
Travis: I don't care much about music, although music is good, (thinking for a while) really.
Bessie: That means you haven't heard this record yet?
Travis: No. (Smiles slyly) I think you can listen to me on your audio equipment.
Judging from Bessie's expression, she obviously regretted talking about this topic. Maybe it was a mistake for her to date the guy she just met. She smiled politely.
Travis and Bessie turned from Broadway to 42nd Street. Travis holds the record for her. They approached the brightly lit erotic cinema. The title of the movie "Guide to Swedish Marriage" flashed up. There are glass showcases on both sides of the ticket office with stills from the sultry scenes in the film. Some unsightly obscene scenes were obscured by black tape. Travis bought two tickets for $5. Bessie looked at him puzzled. He returned to her with the ticket, but Bessie still didn't understand what he was doing.
Bessie: What are you doing?
Travis (honestly): I bought two tickets.
Bessie: But this is a pornographic video.
Travis: No, this film can be watched by ladies. It is different from other films. Many people came to see it in pairs. To be honest, I saw it with my own eyes.
Travis seemed embarrassed. He is accustomed to living in his own world, and it is difficult to understand the world of others. Compared to some of the films he has seen, this one is relatively decent. However, there are certain things that Travis could not think of, let alone admit the fact that he was dragging a pure girl into a pornographic movie theater.
Bessie looked at the movie tickets, looked at the cinema, looked at Travis. She said "no" to herself, but she walked towards the revolving door. She thought to herself: "What the hell are you afraid of? What can happen?" In the final analysis, she always wants to know what these films are. In addition, she was never used to getting awkward with her companions. Travis took Bessie to the empty seat in the middle of the theater. He was right. People in pairs were watching this film, and there were at least six or seven men sitting there with their female companions in the theater. Travis sat in the armchair as usual. Bessie looked around curiously.
A middle-aged woman dressed seriously appeared on the screen. She solemnly said how important a healthy sex life is in a happy couple's life. Then there was a scene of a man and a woman having sex on the bed.
Travis watched attentively what happened on the screen. Bessie's face was pale, she had only one thought: "What am I doing here?"
Travis (muttering to herself): Hey, fuck!
Bessie: What's wrong?
Travis: Forgot to buy Coca-Cola.
Bessie couldn't bear it anymore. She glanced at him suddenly and immediately stood up and walked towards the exit. Travis inexplicably followed her and walked out.
Travis: Where are you going?
Bessie: I can't take it anymore.
Travis: What does that mean?
Bessie (looking at Travis, sincerely): I don't watch this kind of film.
Travis: I'm not very good at movies...
Bessie: Why are you only coming to this kind of place?
Travis: Well, it's a bit expensive here, of course...
Bessie: No, do you only watch pornography?
Travis (hesitating): Basically...yes.
Bessie: Ah, my goodness!
Travis: If you want, we can go to another cinema, I don't care. I have money, and some have money...
Travis pointed to the shiny neon lights of the many theaters on 42nd Street, but Bessie interrupted him.
Bessie: If you just want to satisfy your own desires, why don't you say it earlier?
Travis was dumbfounded by Bessie's bluntness, and because of his inability to answer her questions, he could only go on to say something.
Travis: There are many theaters here, not all of them I have been to. However, I believe that those are good theaters.
Bessie: No, Travis, you are a good young man. However, I don't want to watch it anymore, I will go home now.
Travis (interrupting her): You said you weren't going to the cinema anymore? (Pauses) There are many theaters here.
Bessie: I'm not interested. Because we are not the same type of people, that's how it is.
Travis (confused): What is going on?
Bessie: That's how it is. You walk on your Yangguan road, I walk on my single-plank bridge, thank you for everything, Travis.
Travis: But... Bessie...
Bessie: I want to call a taxi.
Travis (following her): Records.
Bessie: Keep it for yourself.
Travis: Can I still call you?
Bessie is looking for a taxi.
Travis (graciously): Please take it, I bought it for you.
Bessie (seeing him softened): Okay, I got the record, hello, taxi!
Travis (trying to persuade her not to call a car, but no one
paid any attention): I have a taxi... After Bessie told the driver the name of the place, she glanced at Travis. The car drove away quickly.
Travis looked around helplessly: a few pedestrians stood on the bustling street watching them quarrel, and broke up unhappy.
The phone ringing and a lot of flowers are
in Travis's house.
He sat at the table and wrote a diary. There are a few new things on the table: a large pill bottle for vitamins, a small pill bottle for aspirin, a pint of apricot brandy, and the cheap bread you just started eating. On the wall are humorous posters with the words "I am ready to organize in a day" and the dark orange slogan on the bumper of the car: "Call on people to vote for Charles Palatan."
Travis (Voiceover): May 8, 1972. Another turning point has taken place in my life. Time passed, as always...
There was a pencil on the open notebook.
After a while, Travis was sitting in a chair with a straight back and watching TV. With a plate of milk on his knees, he added a little brandy to the milk and dipped the half-folded slices of bread into the milk. He is watching the evening news. The TV shows Charles Palatan’s speech answering questions during the election campaign.
Travis (voice-over): ...every day, there is no difference, a long chain with no end in sight, but suddenly there is a change.
Bessie was walking on a street in central Manhattan. Travis suddenly appeared in front of her. He was waiting for her and wanted to talk to her, but she ignored him. Travis didn't want to give up, so he followed her.
Travis (voice-over): I tried to call her several times.
I heard him
talking on the phone : "Are you better? You said that you are uncomfortable..." Travis (voice-over): But after the first call, she never answered the phone anymore .
Travis held the phone, and there was a busy tone.
There are some withered bouquets in Travis's room, all of which have been returned.
Travis (voice-over): I have also sent flowers, but all of this is useless, it's not worth talking about. It's best to forget everything. The scent of flowers will only sting the soul. My headache has worsened. I think I have stomach cancer. All in all, there is no need to blame others, there is no way to escape destiny.
Towards noon, Travis, who was weak from lack of sleep, walked into the campaign headquarters with two red eyes that were inflamed. Bessie was standing in the far corner of the room, and when she saw Travis, she tried to hide. Tom blocked Travis's way. Can't hear their voice.
Travis (voice-over): Now I understand that she is no better than other women, she is a cold, unattainable woman. There are many such people, especially women. They seem to have discussed it.
Travis tried to walk around Tom, said some violent words to him, and they started fighting. Tom was taller and stronger than him, and soon overpowered Travis, dragged Travis, who was still resisting, to the door, and gestured to call the first policeman he saw. Travis calmed down and left the campaign headquarters.
The charm of women and the 0.44 caliber pistol
Travis drove in the brightly lit night market again. He parked the car on Park Avenue so that a guest could get on the bus, and the passengers would sit in the back.
Passenger: Go to Jackson Heights.
Travis (indicating not to go): I am off work.
Passenger: Don't you want to go to Jackson Heights? Am I right?
Travis: Yes, I am off work.
Passenger: Then why doesn't your signal light show?
Travis (turn on the signal light): It's on. (Pointing to the roof of the car) It just lights up after a while, just like a TV.
The passenger cursed a few words and left the car. After a while, Travis stopped the car and let a young man about 25 years old in a fur coat get in the car. He looked at the passengers in the rearview mirror.
Young passenger: Go to Central Park West, No. 417.
As the car accelerated, Travis looked for the house number attentively when it reached Number 400 in Central Park.
Young passenger: Stop by the sidewalk. Wait here for a while.
Travis waited indifferently, hearing the ticking of the taximeter. After a while, the passenger said, "Master, do you see the light on the fourth window from the right on the seventh floor?"
Travis (voice-over): I see it.
From the window on the 7th floor, you can see a young woman in underwear walking back and forth in the room.
Young passenger (voice-over): Did you see that woman?
Travis (voice-over): I see it.
Young passenger (voice-over): This is my wife, but the house is not mine. There is a Nigerian living there. She abandoned me two weeks ago. I have been looking for her for two weeks. I am going to kill her. What are your thoughts on this matter, sir?
The young passenger looked tired and pale, looking fierce and terrified. Travis said nothing.
Young passenger: What do you think?
Travis shrugged, then pointed to the taximeter.
Young passenger: I will kill her with a 0.44 caliber Macnum pistol. Master, have you seen what this kind of pistol will hit a woman's face? Have you ever seen this kind of pistol when it hits a woman's forehead? I will give her a shot, yes, I will let her take a bullet, master. You might think that I am sick, a psychopath, just sitting here and pulling women's foreheads and pistols.
Travis watched the woman in the window on the seventh floor indifferently. His gaze was dull, like the gaze he had when watching Bessie in a pornographic movie theater.
Commodity salesman
during the day. Travis was standing on the corner of Brooklyn. He is dressed in cowboy clothes, full boots, and a military jacket. He took out the aspirin bottle from his pocket, poured out a few tablets on his palm, and then put it in his mouth to chew. A paid taxi drove to the sidewalk, Travis got into the car, and the dollar sat in front of the bridge.
Dollar: Hello, Travis, get to know, this is Iggy Andy, a merchandise salesman.
Andy sits in the back seat. He is a young man with a likable appearance. He is about 29 years old. He is wearing a dignified suit with strips, a white shirt and a floral tie.
Andy: Hello, Travis.
Travis nodded. The car sped up while driving.
The dollar taxied the car to the front of the cheap hotel.
Andy: Great, dollars. (To Travis) Please pay here.
Travis took out 20 dollars from his pocket and handed it to the driver.
Travis: Is that enough?
US dollars (received the money): Enough, thank you, all the best, Travis.
Travis and Andy walked to the hostel. He followed Andy upstairs, the stairs were covered with old carpets, and then they came to the hallway. Andy opened the empty but clean room with the key. It's not like someone lives here.
Andy locked the door behind him and took out two very sturdy gray suitcases from the cabinet. Trucks driving on such boxes will not crush them.
Andy: I think the dollar told you that I don't sell fake or shoddy products. My goods are clean, brand new, and of top quality.
Andy put the box on the bed covered with white sheets. There was a special lock on the box, but Andy quickly opened the box. Several brand-new pistols are neatly arranged in a box wrapped in acrylic fiber.
Travis: Do you have a 0.44 caliber Macnum pistol?
Andy: That's a very expensive weapon.
Travis: I will pay.
Andy opened the cowhide cover and took out the 0.44 caliber Macnum pistol. He carefully held it in his hand as if holding a priceless treasure, holding the 8-inch barrel in his hand.
Andy (admiringly): This is really amazing. It can hit the car without moving, and destroy the entire cylinder at once. It's really good. The total is 350 dollars.
If Andy is a few years younger, people can think of him as a good boy studying in a certain college, a person who keeps talking and is busy all day long. In the upper grades of middle school, he might be in the lottery business; in the college he would sell drugs, and now he sells pistols.
Andy handed the pistol to Travis. Travis weighed it with his hands. This pistol is a bit awkward in your hand. It is as delicate as a sculpture of Michelangelo, and should be held in the hands of a marble statue, not in the hands of its shameless taxi driver.
Andy: I could have sold it for $500 in Garlem today, but I only sell good goods to good people. (Pause) It looks a little bigger to use. I can also suggest you to buy this 0.38 caliber Schmidt Wesson pistol, nickel-plated, very compact, safe to use, shorter barrel, and other aspects. The pistol used in combat is the same. It is very convenient to hit any moving target. You know, if you want to punch through a wall, you need to use a Macnum pistol, and there is a demand for it now. Everyone wants to own it now. However, the 0.38-caliber Weisen only costs 250 yuan, and you will never regret it, as long as you pay. (He weighs the Wiesen pistol in his hand) plus a $10 holster.
Travis tried the weight of the nickel-plated Wiesen pistol, and then aimed towards the window.
Andy: Are you not interested in automatic weapons?
Travis: I want to see 0.32 caliber pistols and small pistols, just like the 0.22 caliber.
Andy: This is a 0.25 caliber Colt pistol. A very good pistol, it won't cause serious injuries, but it is fast and convenient. It can be carried anywhere on the body. If you buy them all, this gun will be sold to you for $125.
Travis weighed the 0.32 caliber pistol, put it on his belt and covered it with a shirt. He turned around in different directions to see if the pistol fits on the belt.
Travis: How much does it cost?
Andy: 125 yuan for 0.32 caliber. The price is fair, and all the guns, 4 pistols and holsters total... 785 dollars. Well, the leather case was given away for nothing. So, it's $775 in total, and we need cash. I think you should be satisfied.
Travis: How much does it cost to apply for a permit to carry weapons?
Andy: It's expensive, at least $5,000, maybe more. And it will take some time to complete the formalities. I think it's cheap based on the current market price of $5,000. Tell you, I will try not to deal with those guys. too dangerous. But if I come to apply and get approval, it will be reliable, just like the Empire State Building.
Travis: Okay, I agree.
Andy: What do you want a permit for? Even if you have a permit, you are not allowed to bring weapons in the taxi.
Travis: Is there a shooting range near here?
Andy: Of course there is. You take this business card and go to the address on it. When you arrive at the place, take out your business card and pay the prescribed fee without any problems.
Travis took out a new stack of 100-dollar bills and counted eight.
Andy: Did you come back from Vietnam? I noticed when I looked at your shirt.
Travis (raising his eyes to look at him): What?
Andy: Is it Vietnam? I can see it in your coat. Have you been there? Have you probably used all kinds of weapons?
Travis handed the money to Andy, and Andy counted, and then asked him 25 yuan.
Travis: Yes. I have been everywhere, from this hospital to that hospital.
Andy (counting banknotes): Of course, being there is like being in hell. It's not war, it's stinking dung. But I want to tell you that the weapons there are the best. There are automatic Colt pistols on the market, as much as you want (hide the money).
Travis (nervously): No one wants to drag me there anymore, it's better to shoot me. (Pause) Do you have anything to pack?
Andy: Of course there is.
He drew a sporting goods bag from under the bed, picked up a sheet to wrap up the weapon, zipped up the bag, and handed it to Travis. Another similar bag emerged from under the bed.
Andy: Which team do you support for?
Travis: What?
Andy: I can arrange a front or middle seat for you. Where do you prefer to sit? I can get tickets for any team: Metters, Yankees, Knicks, Lengels. If you want, you can still sit on the seat of the mayor.
Travis: No, I am not interested in this game.
Andy (lock the box): OK, please. (Travis turns around and prepares to leave) Please wait a moment, I will send you out.
A few weeks passed. The changes in Travis's house are not small. The long wall behind the desk is covered with various charts, photos, and clip art of newspapers and magazines. Travis wears only jeans and does fitness exercises on the floor of the room. There is a long scar on his left rib.
Travis (voice-over): Today is May 29, 1972. I should exercise my body to be stronger. The lifestyle of always sitting has worn down my body. Every morning I do 25 pull-ups, 100 squats, and 100 knees. I quit smoking. (He put his hand on the flame for a while, but his muscles didn't move). The whole body must be exercised, and every muscle and muscle can withstand the pressure.
The rapid fire from the pistol shook the unpleasant air in the shooting range. The sound insulation between the walls is good, and the floor is full of bullet shells. Travis stood motionless and stretched his arms, shooting with a Ma
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