Cab Drag Race
I was just standing on Gregg and Ian’s balcony, fifteen floors above where Amsterdam and Broadway meet on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Below me, just south of the 72nd street subway station was a line of cars and cabs. When the light turned green, I heard an awful screaching sound. It sounded like someone slamming on the brakes. When I looked down, I noticed two cabs in the farthest left and farthest right lane burn rubber to get moving. They raced each other as far as I could see. I thought drag racing was only for the souped up Honda Civics in LA. I guess there are more similarities between New Yorkers and Angelenos than meets the eye.
I am debating on whether or not to catch a little shut-eye. I have my driver coming to pick me up at 4am to take me to La Guardia for my Toronto flight. He doesn’t speak any English according to Ixel although when he took me to Newark a couple of weeks ago, he sure didn’t let that stop him from carrying on a conversation with me for the entire 60 minute drive. Is it better to endure him tired and ready for bed or groggy from only 2 hours of sleep? Will I be able to wake up in time if I go to sleep? Will I hear my phone when he calls?
Decisions, decisions.