Life-OR-Death

[messyopants]

      
To kill time, we ventured to Powell’s books, quite possibly the best bookstore on the planet.  Books of all colors.  Outside is a bike rack, paying tribute to various books about bikes.  One says, “Curious George rides a bike.”  Uncoincidentally, I bought a very cute Curious George calendar inside the store, equipped with 60 stickers!  Also

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NYC in a Gypsy Cab

[messyopants]

I was gonna sleep at the airport, but when I got kicked out of the concourse, and only had the option to sleep next to the conveyer belts, although I've done it before, mostly with Shadrach, when I walked outside, I saw that there where hotels across the highway from the airport. So I set about crossing the bridge, when I stepped in a 3-inch deep slush puddle-- the flight was cancelled on account of the weather. At the hotel, they were all booked up, also on account of the weather. There was a woman there stressing out because her travel agent had supposedly booked the room. The woman at the desk offered to call a local hotel and cab for her. I asked to come along, considering that I only had 5 dollars. Did I mention it was a "Gypsy cab"? It's funny. A taxi license is $300,000, so an underground consortium of taxi immigrants have formed business of unlicensed cabs, usually black luxurious Escalades. Basically they're an underground class of taxi citizens, or "criminals." But don't get me wrong, I've got no problems with criminals. Anyway, when I got in the car, the woman says to me, "I don't know how I feel about this hotel-- I mean I've never heard of it [she was from out of town in New York], safety and all." [I should tell Natalie this story by the way.] Her phone has been dead for awhile, and she hasn't been able to get in touch with her a travel agent in a while. So we're driving through Brooklyn for about 10 minutes, when we turn the corner to the Quality Inn, Long Island City. Right as we turn the corner, she says, "Oh I can't stay here." So when we are in front of the Qaulity Inn, I offered her to use my cell phone, as hers was dead. While she's calling her travel agent, me and the cabby exchange glances, you know. "So she's not staying here?" "Nah, I guess not." "What are ya gonna do?" "I'll probably stay here." I was actually embarrassed on account of my race. To break the uncomfortable social ice, I playfully reached in the pocket of passenger seat [Sometimes, it's amaing what humour can do for a situation, to show a man that you're on his level] and pulled out a magazine called Taxi Queen. "What's this?" "Eeeh, you know it's a contest." It's a beauty pagaent magazine, full of busty Latins. "They're drivers?" He laughed. While the lady continued to talk, I playfully pushed play on the button over my head. A small screen descended from the car ceiling and a live Spanish rap conert began. When she got off the phone, and returned it to me, she put her hand on my thigh and said, "I'd feel safer if you came with me," but by that point I was so unnattracted to her that I wasn't the least bit interested. She ended up getting a $400 dollar room in Times Square, and I ended up walking the short distance between the car doors and the hotel doors. The best part is, I was in New York as a prospective student. I wanted to work in Joseph LeDoux's lab. LeDoux studies fear conditioning.