NYC Taxi Cab Story
I finally have a NYC taxi cab story of my very own!*
It was a dark and stormy night. Well, in reality, it was a dark and windy night. I was on the Upper West Side, crossing the street with the walk signal, reveling in the sight of thousands of angrily snorting orange taxi cabs being held at bay by a single catsup-colored light. All of a sudden, one mustard-colored blob broke free from the herd and stampeded wildly towards me. It barely missed me in its eagerness to pull over to the side of the road to pick up a passenger that never materialized.
My side of the road. Right next to me. Hrm.
The people walking nearby commented in surprise at my brush with death. I commented in surprise, too, although my comments are not printable here. Suddenly, Xena, Warrior Princess took possession of my soul. Uh-oh, possession by fictional superheros means trouble.
Xena, Warrior Princess stepped up to the cab, yanked open the passenger's side door and spit on the front passenger side seat. This is the seat where the cabbie stores his personal things when there aren't any passengers tackling each other to sit there.
Because I am not an especially slobbery person, mine was not a very impressive spitball. But nonetheless, I autographed his spare seat right there with my very own special wet spot.
I slammed the door (cabbies HATE this) and walked away quickly down a one-way street. Wrong way for him. Heh.
tags: NYC Life, taxi
* This is the "Third Jewel" of my NYC horror story repertoire and it fulfills my official "Triple Crown" requirements of true NYC horror stories that everyone must experience before they are considered to be real New Yorkers. These horror stories include one each about rats, cockroaches and cabbies. Thanks to my great luck to live in Harlem when I first arrived in NYC, I was blessed with a truly disgusting rat story in that first week after I moved in. Then I sublet an apartment on the Upper East Side where I earned the "Second Jewel" in my "NYC Horror Story Triple Crown"; this time, it was the first of MANY horror stories about cockroaches that would turn your stomach. (It is interesting to note that while I lived on the UES, I also experienced several "bonus horror stories" involving marauding centipedes -- all of whom I named "Maria" after the woman whom I sublet my apartment from -- and I also experienced quite a few horror stories about the landlord from tenement hell). The "Third Jewel" of my "NYC Horror Story Triple Crown" -- that cab horror story -- remained elusive until now because I use cabs only rarely since I've lived in NYC ... the reason for this is that I'd rather spend my limited funds on alcohol instead of cab rides.
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