Page Twenty: Taxi Cab Confessions

A giant, gaping lull in the work day turns me into a computer hog for purposes 1000% unrelated to anything to do with selling air time to advertising agencgies. In reality though, this blog could mean more to my internship then we realize. At the end of the summer I'm supposed to present some kind of journal to my internship coordinator to ensure that I earned my wopping 1 hour of college credit. I'm sure they will be pleased to know that my time is being used wisely.

This morning I got dressed in an outfit that would make my mommy proud. A black and white Lily-esque dress, a white trench, flats and my hair pulled back just like she likes it. I'm in uncharted waters in an outfit like this. It's my alter-ego attire. I can't take this dress from day to night which is always a subconscious goal of mine when I get ready in the morning.

I bought myself the best NYC souvenir this morning at Borders. It's a big old picture book called My Subway Ride. I knew I had to have it the moment I laid my eyes on it's colorful cover, sitting next to all the other books intended for 5-year-olds. (Check out my appropriate AP Style!)

"The city is the body, the subway is the blood, running through tunnel veins.
It is sound and rhythm,
a pulse, the pulse,
a heartbeat,
a jazz riff,
a constant sea."

A little bit of a drama-mama interpretation of public transportation, but My Subway Ride will have a special shelf in my apartment next semester all the same.

I've always been real into calling shot-gun first. I get legitimately upset when I'm beat to it. I've discovered that the front seat of a cab is just as thrilling. The front seat puts a whole new spin on the whole taxi thing.

Last night, I gave our cab driver the grand inquisition, completely against his will. I got the low-down on the taxi system and the inside scoop on drivers and the unwritten laws that you just kinda know if you spend your days and nights driving a bright yellow car.

Cab drivers keep their cars at there homes. There's no cab barn like there's a bus barn for school districts in the suburbs. Sometimes two guys share a car and they come pick it up at the other guys house before their shift. There are two shifts, day and night. Sometimes they do both. They make their own hours and to my suprise there is no master cab driver who tells them when to start and stop. My interviewee has never given anyone a ride for free or discounted anyone, but he has also never overcharged anyone because he didn't like them or thought they were annoying. He has been puked on and he didn't like it. I asked him if there is some kind of cab drivers alliance or if they have a union or if they wave to each other like mid-life crisis men in corvettes do. He said no. He only waves if he sees a cab driver he knows, which typically is a once daily occurence.

I managed to find myself singing karaoke last night. Man in the Mirror, I believe. Go figure. It was a duet with my North Carolina friend and apparently it was painful. The mics got pulled from our hands toward the end of it because the Karaoke Diva in charge confused Tuesday's at Van Diemens for American Idol finals. She made sure to make an announcement after our disaster performance saying that only people who are serious need to sing, oh, and no screaming. Chill out lady. I thought we were fabulous!

Correction: We didn't sing Man in the Mirror. It was just confirmed. It was actually All For You, or You Are the Only One...? Something like that.