I think I had the somewhat dubious honor of being the passenger of the oldest cab driver in New York City today. My initial fears about his competency were confirmed when I said, “I’m going to 78th and Madison,” and his response was a confident “78th and York!”
My first thought was, ‘Well, maybe he just didn’t hear me,’ because I’m sorry, but there is NO accent or weird moment that could make ‘Madison’ sound even remotely like ‘York.’ Then I thought, ‘Oh, God. What if he just has no memory left? Now I have to spend the whole time worrying that my cab driver is going to forget how to drive while we’re crossing Central Park.’ Luckily, we got home just fine, and after shouting and repeating directions about where to pull up and let me off, I was out of the cab and on my merry way.
It is a grave injustice that my extremely elderly cab driver is still needing to work at 154. Sounds to me like someone danced with the devil in the pale moonlight!
Sharp Teeth, Sharper Tongue.