Jul 24 2004
New York
Coming to you from New York City – the state of my birth, though not the city (that distinction belongs to the unlovely town of Syracuse, and that’s the only distinction it has). New York City has plenty of distinction, but also lots of myths and legends which are not entirely accurate.
Myth: It’s sooo easy to get a cab in New York.
Truth: It’s completely impossible. Especially on a hot, humid, and rainy Friday night after a concert in Central Park. Literally the minute the show was over, it started to pour in an epic and Biblical manner (I can’t get used to it raining in the summer – it only rains in the winter in California). It was like walking through a waterfall.
Within minutes I was soaked to the skin, and the streets became mini rivers. I made my way to Madison Avenue and tried desperately to hail a cab. You know it’s bad when a girl in a soaking wet and form-fitting shirt, transformed into a transparent shirt thanks to Mother Nature and her sick sense of humor, can’t get a cab. I walked ten blocks or so before I finally got one, and if I hadn’t been so wet and cranky, I would have been flattered by the alacrity with which the cab driver swerved through traffic to pick me up. Instead, my only thought was, “I have never been so glad to see a cab in my life.”
I ended up taking all my clothes to the hotel laundry to get them dried, including my dripping Keds. It was hard to get them to understand that I didn’t want them laundered or dry cleaned – they had been thoroughly laundered and wet cleaned by Ma Nature – I just wanted dry clothes. More than anything.
I finally got my point across, but they sure looked at me funny. Good practice for the Hamptons.