I don't know what it is, but I tend to get the chattiest cab drivers. Occasionally, it's annoying if I'm dead tired and just can't muster the energy to hold up my end of a conversation, but mostly, I try to engage at least a little bit because some of these guys tend to be downright entertaining.
It's a bit of the Forrest Gump "box of chocolates" philosophy -- you never know what you're gonna get.
My most recent cab ride in NYC was from my office to my apartment in the middle of the afternoon so that I could get home in order to pick up my bags and catch my towncar out to the airport.
I flagged down a cab at 53rd and Broadway and the driver almost ran into another cab, swerving over to pick me up at the curb. That, of course, caused a chorus of honking that didn't stop until I had climbed in and quickly pulled the door closed behind me.
After I gave the cab driver directions on where I wanted to go, he peered at me in his rearview mirror. "You must be a supermodel or something, right?"
I couldn't help but burst out laughing.
Yeah... no. Incredibly lucky Dove girl, yes. Supermodel, no.
The conversation evolved from here and in the ten minutes it took him to drive me home, I learned that he was not only a cab driver, but also worked part-time as an embalmer (you can't script this stuff) and that he had just sold his first script in Hollywood and was soon heading to LA for the production of his film.
He had just finished telling me that he lives in the South Bronx and how scary and violent it still often is when we pulled up to my block and I told him where to stop to let me out.
"You live here?" and he let out a low whistle. "Momma, you doin' ok!"
1 comment:
Well duh, you don't just get the chattiest cabbies--you make 'em that way--lord they pick up a babe, ya think they aren't gonna chat you up?
You kill me.
Post a Comment