CUT TO:
Travis is walking confusedly around SAM GOODY'S at MIDDAY, obviously unable to locate what he desires.
Travis is lost among the hip, young intellectual type that populate the store. He watches the stylish, attractive female help, unable to come right out and requests what he desires.
A young SALESGIRL sees his plight, walks over and asks if he needs any help. Travis INAUDIBLY says a name to her, although the name is obviously Kris Kristofferson.
The Salesgirl digs out Kristofferson's "Silver-Tongued Devil" album for him.
Travis says something additional to the Salesgirl and she goes off to gift-wrap the album.
Travis emerges from the RECORD STORE, the brightly gift- wrapped album proudly tucked under his arm.
CUT TO:
A lengthy POV SHOT from Travis' vantage point behind the wheel.
We see the city as Travis sees it. The front windshield is a little dirty, the lighted meter just up at the low right screen. The intercom crackles with STATIC and MESSAGES.
The light turns green; we take off with a start. A short first gear - quick shift - a long second gear. The cab eases to the right of the street, checking out prospective fares.
Our eyes scan the long lines of PEDESTRIANS. The regular - bums, junkies, tourists, hookers, homosexuals, hippies - they mean nothing now. They only blend into the sidewalks and lighted storefronts.
Our eyes now concentrate on those that step away from the curb - is that man hailing a cab or scratching his head?
In the next block there are perhaps three, four fares - quick gas-up through this yellow light - brake sharply - check the action. The first: Tourist, nickel tipper - let the next guy pick them up. Let the second go also, the third - there's a live fare. Middle-aged LOCAL WOMAN: Short fare to the East Side, good tip.
We pull to the curb, waiting for her to get in. It is a long wait - a Black STREET WALKER crosses in front of the cab. We focus on (as Travis would) a YOUNG COUPLE embracing in the distance.
As we travel, we hear Travis' random thoughts about selecting fares and tips:
TRAVIS (V.O.): You work at night, you get an instinct. You can smell them. The big tippers, the stiffs, the trouble makers. Quarter is good tip for Manhattan. Queens is better, Brooklyn is best. Go for the guys with suitcases. The rich are the worst tippers, hooks are lousy. Spooks are okay, but they don't live at Park Ave after all.
The meter is activated: $.60 registers. Tick, tick, tick. A quick glance shows the woman is now seated. She says softly, "192 East 89". We take off with another jolt. Cross back up 9th Ave, then cut through the park.
We're zooming up 9th Ave - how many green lights can we string together? Somebody steps out to hail the cab, but quickly steps back again. The meter is up $.90. It'll be a $1.40 fare.
Now through the park and we're almost there. Check the numbers - 134 - 140. End of the block. Fare=$1.40.
Check back mirror - she's getting out two bills. Two quarters and a dime change. Tip'll be either.25 or .35.
The tip comes back: 35 cents - good tip. Good lady. We take off again with a jolt.
This is Travis' world: Dark side streets, garish glaring main streets, quick glances, quicker evaluations - a dozen instantaneous decisions a minute. Are these people, are these objects?
EXT. TRAVIS' TAXI, speed down darkened street.
Travis lets off a fare and pulls into line at the Plaza.
TRAVIS (V.O.): I called Betsy again at her office, and she said maybe we could go to a movie together after she gets off work tomorrow. That's my day off. At first she hesitated, but I called her again and she agreed. (pause) Betsy. Betsy what? I forgot to ask her last name again. Damn. I've got to remember stuff like that.
Travis' thoughts are with Betsy, as THREE MEN enter Travis' cab. He activates the meter and pulls off.
MAN'S VOICE: St. Regis Hotel.
Travis checks the mirror. Scanning across the back seat, he recognizes the middle passenger. It is CHARLES PALANTINE, candidate for President. He must have left the Hotel shortly after BETSY.
Tom, seated on the jump seat, checks his watch and speaks deferentially to Palantine:
TOM: It's 12:30 now. You'll have fifteen minutes before the actual luncheon begins.
Palantine nods as his assistant picks up the thread of an earlier conversation.
ASSISTANT: I don't think we have to worry about anybody here committing themselves until things start coming in from California.
Travis recognizes his passenger. He puts out his cigarette.
TRAVIS (interrupting): Say, aren't you Charles Palantine, the candidate?
PALANTINE (only mildly irritated): Yes I am.
TRAVIS: Well, I'm one of your biggest supporters. I tell everybody that comes in this cab that they should vote for you.
PALANTINE (pleased; glances to check Travis' license): Why, thank you Travis.
TRAVIS: I'm sure you'll win, sir. Everybody I know is going to vote for you. (a beat) I was going to put one of your stickers on my taxi but the company said it was against their policy.
PALANTINE (pleasant): I'll tell you, Travis, I've learned more about this country sitting in taxi cabs than in the board room of General Motors.
TOM (joking): And in some other places too...
Palantine, his Assistant and Tom all laugh. Palantine, quickly reassuming candidorial mien, speaks to Travis:
PALANTINE: Travis, what single thing would you want the next President of this country to do most?
TRAVIS: I don't know, sir. I don't follow political issues much.
PALANTINE: There must be something...
TRAVIS (thinks): Well, he should clean up this city here. It's full of filth and scum. Scum and filth. It's like an open sewer. I can hardly take it.
(MORE)
TRAVIS (CONT'D): Some days I go out and smell it then I get headaches that just stay and never go away. We need a President that would clean up this whole mess. Flush it out.
Palantine is not a Hubert Humphrey-type professional bullshitter, and Travis' intense reply stops him dead in his tracks. He is forced to fall back on a stock answer but tries to give it some meaning.
PALANTINE (after a pause): I know what you mean, Travis, and it's not going to be easy. We're going to have to make some radical changes.
TRAVIS (turning the wheel): Damn straight.
EXT. BARCLAY HOTEL
TRAVIS' taxi pulls up in front of the Barclay Hotel.
PALANTINE and AIDE get out of the cab. SECOND AIDE stays in back seat a moment to pay TRAVIS.
PALANTINE looks in front window of cab momentarily and nods goodbye to TRAVIS.
PALANTINE: Nice talking to you, Travis.
TRAVIS (calling back): Thank you, sir. You're a good man, sir.
Travis' taxi departs.
PALANTINE and AIDES walk up carpet to the St. Regis.
CAMERA CLOSES IN on PALANTINE as he stops, turns back and watches Travis' departing taxi.
PALANTINE turns back and ascends the hotel steps with his AIDES.
