Skip to main content

Catch A Cab

We had been walking for about forty-five minutes, making our way from Manhattan’s South Street Seaport to the Macy’s flagship store on 34th Street. When we were within fifteen blocks of our destination, some of my companions decided that we should complete our journey by cab. Despite my attempts to convince them to keep walking, they were insistent. The trip that ensued was a true New York experience.

After a few minutes of trying, one of my companions was able to hail a cab. However, we wanted to go north. The cab that stopped was going south. It did not seem to matter, though, as my companions still got in the cab. One person sat in the front while I slipped into the backseat, between the other two. Hardly before the doors could close, the driver had fought his way into Manhattan traffic. Without warning, he took a sharp right turn onto a side street and began to head north, steadily increasing his speed. Within seconds, the cab was weaving and darting around the other cars, the driver cursing the entire way. Halted by the unexpected change of a midtown traffic light, the cab came within mere inches of hitting a pedestrian. This, it seems, only caused the driver to curse more vehemently. From the first turn, my companions had grabbed my knees, as if to steady themselves. By this time, their grips had tightened, their nails digging into my legs out of complete fear. Another razor sharp turn and we were at our destination on 34th Street. The four of us got out of the car, paid the driver and made our way into Macy’s, still a bit shaken. A few hours later, as we left Macy’s bound for our hotel, I insisted that we walk . . . and not get a cab. This time, my traveling companions did not argue.

That day, I had attempted to allow my friends to experience New York. And, they did. Only, it was not the way I - nor they - had planned.
Labels:

Comments

  1. AnonymousSeptember 15, 2010 at 3:24 PM

    The only cabbie I've ever experienced in NYC would flip open a newspaper at every stoplight. It was automatic. Sometimes we would only be at the light for a few seconds but he would still read.

    He also used the painted lane lines as more of a rough guide than strict instructions.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Olympic Memories

Twenty years ago this week, I - along with my family - was sitting in my house watching the Opening Ceremonies of the Summer Olympics.  I have always loved watching the Olympics, but this time was different.  This time, the Games were not on some far-away continent.  These Games were in my own hometown!  In fact, just the night before, I had been in Olympic Stadium - now Turner Field - watching the dress rehearsal for what I was watching on tv.  Now, twenty years later, some of my most vivid memories remain: The seemingly always-crowded highways of Atlanta were practically desolate, providing a seldom-seen sight. Meeting the Frenchman who wondered if I had ever heard of the book about the Civil War written by an Atlanta woman named Margaret Mitchell. The dress rehearsal crowd cheering wildly during the parade of nations for the entry of the flag from (the nation of) Georgia. Attending the women's gymnastics podium trials, watching the Magnificent 7 prepa...
Post a Comment
Read more

Seattle Sunset

The neighborhood was full of people enjoying the summer evening. People standing in their front lawns, casually talking with their neighbors. Fathers guiding their children as they unsteadily steered their bicycles along the sidewalk. Mothers pushing strollers while the children riding inside stared out in wonder, attempting to take in the activity around them. Families exiting the neighborhood ice cream shop, cool, frozen desserts in hand. A steady stream of cars passing along the neighborhood’s narrow, curving streets. At the neighborhood’s center was a large manmade lake, rimmed with tall, green trees. A curving concrete path wound through the surrounding meadow. Couples jogged along the trail, careful to avoid anyone who crossed the path. A wading pool which at any other time would have been a noisy, chaotic scene, was nearly silent, save for the occasional splash of water. Even the lake itself was still, with nothing to disrupt the calm, slow mot...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Experience of Travel

There is more to travel than itineraries and guidebooks. Travel should be an experience. A time to try something new. To discover a new place. To step out of one’s comfort zone. To make the most of my travel experience, I try to remember four guidelines: Eat somewhere . . . or something . . . new: Travel is a time of discovery. Discovering new places. Meeting new people. That discovery should also extend to dining. When traveling, I always try to eat a new type of food. If the options are limited, then I at least try to find a restaurant where I have never eaten. Even if it is a city I have visited many times, I still look for these new foods. Go where the locals go: Guidebooks can provide great information on any number of destinations. They can offer suggestions on sites to see, places to stay, even how to get from place to place. But, they cannot cover everything. Sometimes, the best recommendations can come from local residents. Whether it is a friend...
Post a Comment
Read more