I'd rather live in Sunset Park
A combination of radioactive diarrhea and wet quasi-frozen street surfaces kept you from opting for 2-wheel transportation today. Besides, buses allow for further readings of The Brooklynites, an awesome book with images of 'random' people who live in this borough and captions that capture their voices. And here's where we dive into that yelo cab. Fastforward the reading tempo please.... This matter-of-fact kind of person asks to be delivered from the spotlight of a street lamp in SoHo to an underground parking garage in NoLita. It's a 2.5 minute long fare that might seemingly exasperate a cabbie, but to you it's nothing less than the first trip of the shift, a great warmup calisthenic (12 hours yield 20 to 35 fares total). Then a suit comes bouncing smugly round the corner. The moment you turn left, his grin makes sudden sense. He's beat someone with lots of luggage, to your taxi. There goes an early airport fare (extra miles mean meter multiplicity in pre-cockcrow trafficlessness). The next 4 uncarpooled fares (eco-karma descending as fast as the ascending national debt) materialize as 4 sterile suits. All display similar behavior: a gray area between 'best bud' and genuine prick. One tries swiping his debit card over and over while the bellman opens and closes, and opens his door in utter confusion. Another standoffish, but potentially flamboyant suit is expedited from Battery Park to Central Park South.
I love how after a certain hour the suits are all in their conference cubicles and everyone hailing a cab from that point on is a character of some sort. An elder who's life brims with synchronicity and she glows because of it. The Guatemalan futbol fanatic who brings you up to date on global preparations for world cup 2010 in South Africa. An art gallery assistant who promises to teach you Mandarin. The Scottish dancer on crutches who lies on the phone about being 5 minutes away for her doctor's appointment, and the FDR Drive that facilitates that from being too far from the truth. Some down-to-earth kind of guy with a feathered hat. An immaculate expedite (minimal use of brakes for any reason and wisest grid navigation) of a young lady from Essex Market in the LES to the Film Forum in NoCa is rewarded with an 80% tip. An NJ girl appreciates the bright blue jacket compliment, which you spot a 1/2 block away. It's the 1st time she "successfully hails a cab from across 14th street like that".
Finding yourself surrounded in a sea of empty cabs with numbered roof lights brightly lit is like having your tail between your legs. Independent, yet humiliated... and seeking to go off on a tangent, asap! A technical tip for fellow cabbies: cruise up Bowery from Delancey to Houston for droves of art zealots exiting this recently opened venue. That one goes out to Aziz, the Moroccan cabbie you met at LGA, who's trying to write a better guide for NYC taxi drivers than the one that's currently offered. He confirmed the intuition that led you to believe that arabization of northwestern Africa was heralded by the Yemenites. But that does not take away from the fact that the world's greatest accordionists and Salsa (and Cumbia) musicians are Colombian. And don't forget: no left turns from 57th unto Broadway between 8 and 19:00, unless it's Sunday. I've put together a page that I'm proud of, to contain all these posts. It's complete with pictures and relevant links. Check it out: www.taxicabnyc.blogspot.com
I love how after a certain hour the suits are all in their conference cubicles and everyone hailing a cab from that point on is a character of some sort. An elder who's life brims with synchronicity and she glows because of it. The Guatemalan futbol fanatic who brings you up to date on global preparations for world cup 2010 in South Africa. An art gallery assistant who promises to teach you Mandarin. The Scottish dancer on crutches who lies on the phone about being 5 minutes away for her doctor's appointment, and the FDR Drive that facilitates that from being too far from the truth. Some down-to-earth kind of guy with a feathered hat. An immaculate expedite (minimal use of brakes for any reason and wisest grid navigation) of a young lady from Essex Market in the LES to the Film Forum in NoCa is rewarded with an 80% tip. An NJ girl appreciates the bright blue jacket compliment, which you spot a 1/2 block away. It's the 1st time she "successfully hails a cab from across 14th street like that".
Finding yourself surrounded in a sea of empty cabs with numbered roof lights brightly lit is like having your tail between your legs. Independent, yet humiliated... and seeking to go off on a tangent, asap! A technical tip for fellow cabbies: cruise up Bowery from Delancey to Houston for droves of art zealots exiting this recently opened venue. That one goes out to Aziz, the Moroccan cabbie you met at LGA, who's trying to write a better guide for NYC taxi drivers than the one that's currently offered. He confirmed the intuition that led you to believe that arabization of northwestern Africa was heralded by the Yemenites. But that does not take away from the fact that the world's greatest accordionists and Salsa (and Cumbia) musicians are Colombian. And don't forget: no left turns from 57th unto Broadway between 8 and 19:00, unless it's Sunday. I've put together a page that I'm proud of, to contain all these posts. It's complete with pictures and relevant links. Check it out: www.taxicabnyc.blogspot.com