--- Why... I do in fact think about consonants
. And I'm thinking about "U" right now. ~___^
--- Irshad, Irshad, Irshad
, you rock so hard, I think I will always love you.
--- I AM OFFENDED BY THE LACK OF HEAT IN MY WORLD.
Seriously, when the ground is covered with a sheet of ice, the subway trains should not be blowing cold air on me. They just shouldn't. When I was in high school, trains totally had heat. I am not imagining this! *curmudgeons about the room*
I begin to wonder if I will ever be warm again. On the other hand, this is a perfect excuse to eat pasta.
--- DEAR CABDRIVERS of NYC:
PLEASE stop living up to the stereotypes. In other cities, many of your colleagues do not do this and still manage to get on. Seriously, you don't have to do this, plus, you'd get bigger tips.
(In the following anecdote, the Monty Python level of farcical is going to be lost on some, but I'm going to try to describe this properly. I promise, to the best of my ability I am reporting this completely faithfully with no embroidery for effect whatsoever.)
So because it's cold, and I'm very late, and at times I get reimbursed on that sort of thing if I can make a good case for it, I decide to cab it home, because that way, it will take maybe 30, 40 minutes, whereas at this time of night, train and bus will take about two hours. And I catch a cab, one who does not roll his eyes at me upon hearing I need to go out to Queens, and so off we go, and it's all good.
I...I don't quite know what it is, although I strongly suspect it is my lack of a Y chromosome that causes some drivers to do this...abject denial in the face of reality. Dear driver: 1. I am not a tourist. 2. I am not stupid. 3. I am really, really not stupid. I have in fact done this before, as should be obvious by the fact that *I* gave you the directions. 4. When I tell you I've lived in a place for about 35 years, give or take a few sojourns elsewhere, the fact that you've also lived in the area...still doesn't negate reality. 4. I am not so damaged and backward that I don't know where my own house is located. 5. And seriously, if I were? How the hell would YOU solve the problem? And since you couldn't, why not just go where I want, and leave me responsible for it?
So maybe 20 minutes later I feel us stopping, and I look up, and dude has taken the Woodhaven Boulevard exit.Cab Dude:
So. Left or right?Me:
Oh! Uh. Um. I'm sorry, but you've taken the wrong exit. I need to go to Rockaway Boulevard.Cab Fellow:
This is Rockaway.Me:
Er, this is Woodhaven. We need to get back on the L.I.E.Cab Dude:
This is Rockaway, the sign says Rockaway!Sign:
WOODHAVEN BOULEVARDRockaway Boulevard:
*is still 20 minutes' drive away from where we are*Rockaway Boulevard:
*whistles* *looks at watch*Me:
This isn't Rockaway Boulevard. This is Woodhaven? Woodhaven to your right and Queens Boulevard to your left. I don't want to go down Woodhaven. I don't live here.Cab Driver:
This is Rockaway! Me:
No, actually? Rockaway Boulevard is, like, right by the airport, and --Cab Guy:
Look -- the exit said Rockaway!Me:
Yes but the sign above your head right now
says Woodhaven Boulevard and Queens Boulevard. I can't get home from here.
Maybe the sign you saw said "Going TOWARD Rockaway"? But first you have to pass Atlantic and Linden and --Cab Driver:
Look, this is exit 19, yes?Me:
*keeps running up*Me:
Listen. I used to live down the street from here. I no longer live here. I don't know what number exit this is, I never gave you a number, the sign says it's WOODHAVEN BOULEVARD, and I asked you for ROCKAWAY.Cab Dude:
Look, I live right up the road right there and --ME:
YES BUT THAT WILL NOT TURN THIS INTO ROCKAWAY BOULEVARD WHEN IT'S WOODHAVEN BOULEVARD AND ROCKAWAY IS UMPTEEN MILES DOWN THE HIGHWAY. THIS IS NOT WHERE I LIVE, AND I WOULD LIKE TO GO HOME PLEASE. I HAVE A LIMITED AMOUNT OF MONEY AND THAT IS ALL YOU ARE GETTING. CAN WE PLEASE GET BACK ON THE L.I.E. NOW.Meter:
*merrily ticks along*Traffic Light:
*blissfully changes a lot*Cab Dude:
Look, the sign said --Me:
OKAY. You know what, never mind -- can you turn off here please?
So yes, friends, I got out of that cab, walked about eleven blocks (this is at about 11:30 pm -- charliee
would kick my ass), past my old apartment of roaches and robbery, to my old subway stop...and in another hour and a half, I was home.
"Oh -- you're changing your destination?"
"Yes. I think so.
"Look, I'm sorry if it was the wrong exit --" he said as I got out in the dark.
"Meh. No worries. Drive safe!"
Reader, I tipped him 20 percent. I hate myself sometimes. Often.
(At least it wasn't 20 percent of the full fare.)
In further news... I'm off to see Obama AND I HAVEN'T WASHED MY HAIR.
Later, darlings. See ya Wednesday.