wonderful.
So, tonight I had dinner with defenstr8r at our new place (hi Liz! I heart you!), and her friend/my new fantastic friend MJ met us there (adore her) . . . but what I adored more than that, more than anything in a long time, was my ride home.
I was going to take the bus after dropping them at the subway, but then saw a cabbie (going the wrong way, mind you) and decided, what the hell. I should get in his cab. So I did, apologized about not going to the city, told him I was keeping him in Brooklyn for longer . . . and then he turned up the stereo. It was this song, "Lover Come Back To Me," by Frank Sinatra. An early track of his. Doesn't even sound like him . . . but I recognized it from listening to it with my grandfather even though I'd never known the name or the artist of the track. And asked him to turn it up. As the second song came on, I started crying and apologized for crying over said grandfather in his cab. He said it was one of the nicest and most wonderful things that has happened in his cab for a while, "a girl crying over her grandfather." He asked how old he'd been, we chatted for a while . . . he got me home. Then he got out of the car and went to the trunk, before taking my money. I was like "???" He returned with his CD case, and retrieved a CD that contained both of the songs I'd just heard plus a ton of other really rare, early stuff from Sinatra's radio days and just gave it to me.
I gave him a ridiculous tip (I actually think it was about 400 percent) . . . but wow. I'm listening to the CD now, and I feel so comforted.
People aren't bad. Anyone who says they are just hasn't met very many.
I was going to take the bus after dropping them at the subway, but then saw a cabbie (going the wrong way, mind you) and decided, what the hell. I should get in his cab. So I did, apologized about not going to the city, told him I was keeping him in Brooklyn for longer . . . and then he turned up the stereo. It was this song, "Lover Come Back To Me," by Frank Sinatra. An early track of his. Doesn't even sound like him . . . but I recognized it from listening to it with my grandfather even though I'd never known the name or the artist of the track. And asked him to turn it up. As the second song came on, I started crying and apologized for crying over said grandfather in his cab. He said it was one of the nicest and most wonderful things that has happened in his cab for a while, "a girl crying over her grandfather." He asked how old he'd been, we chatted for a while . . . he got me home. Then he got out of the car and went to the trunk, before taking my money. I was like "???" He returned with his CD case, and retrieved a CD that contained both of the songs I'd just heard plus a ton of other really rare, early stuff from Sinatra's radio days and just gave it to me.
I gave him a ridiculous tip (I actually think it was about 400 percent) . . . but wow. I'm listening to the CD now, and I feel so comforted.
People aren't bad. Anyone who says they are just hasn't met very many.