Tag Archives: cab

Traffic stop

File this under News of the Weird:

stop wait goAs I was walking Rory toward the park, I saw a car stalled in one of the lanes on Central Park West. A taxi cab was behind it, and a police car after that. As we approached, the police officers were opening the car doors.

Everyone in the car was fast asleep. The driver was slumped over the wheel. The passenger in the back was laid out flat.

The officer poked them both with his nightstick. It took awhile to wake them up, but eventually they both roused.

A million scenarios from TV and movies went through my mind. Did someone hijack their car and knock them out? Were they overcome by fumes? Were they victims of alien abduction? But it’s probably like a friend of mine said…

They just passed out drunk at the light.

Fancy.

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Big hearts, Big Apple

New Yorkers are a the nicest people.  I see proof of it all the time.

Take today, for instance.

floating-money-bd4a4449-originalI had taken a cab to the vet to pick up my dog.  The driver gave me my change, which included several singles, near the open door.

The wind instantly picked up the bills and scattered them in the street.  Did the rude, me-me-me New Yorkers of TV and movies jump upon them and run for it?

Not a chance.

Instead, three people stepped on the loose bills and stood waiting for me to retrieve them.  We all shared a laugh as I collected my change and thanked them for their help.

Nice folks.  Yep, we’ve got lots of ’em here in NYC.

Smelly cab

Remember the Seinfeld episode where Elaine gets in the cab that reeks of killer B.O.?

The smell stuck to her clothes — was even in her mouth — long after she got out of the taxi.

I can do her one better.

After being out of town all week — four cities in four days, two missed flights, and more airplane boxed meals than I care to remember — I excitedly jumped in the cab to get home to my dog.  And what was there to greet me?

KILLER FARTS

I say farts (plural) because it wasn’t just one that faded away as I sat there.  No, the odor was constant and cloying and seemed to invade every pore of my skin.

Elaine, if you’re out there in your imaginary world, I’m pretty sure farts trump B.O. — I win!

Which means I lose.  Oh yes, I lose BIG TIME.