A Cab Ride Through H**L

My kitchen has been a mess all week.  It happens.  But this morning I made a To Do list and so there's hope.  But meanwhile, how about some blogging?

I ran this morning, which lately, is becoming increasingly momentous.  Running produces thinking and all that thinking caused me to decide to document a few memories in my blog.  This one is about our cab ride through H--L.

It was in February of 2011, and we had just disembarked from a lovely 10-day Caribbean cruise along with half of the retired population of New "Joizee".  The dock was in the harbor of their home state, just outside of The Big Apple .... aka, New York City.  This was back when I was hopelessly in love with their Republican governor, and we all sang the praises of Chris Christie during our meals together on the ship.

We headed for the army of taxies and vans, lined up looking for passengers.  We needed to get to the airport to catch a flight leaving in about four hours.  We were herded into a van with a small and friendly group including another couple going to the same airport, and some others getting off in downtown Manhattan.

Our driver was a young-ish woman, well-endowed with her thick "Joizee" accent.  The plan was to head to town to drop off the city-dwellers, then off to the airport.  $40 for the two of us.  A good price, or so we thought.

Our first clue was when we approached a toll station and the driver asked if anyone needed change.  We handed her some bills, with which she paid the toll, and handed us the change ..... minus the cost of the toll.  Well, she did ask if we needed change, I suppose ......

Then we hit typical New York traffic, which translates to Stop and Crawl.  The time was ticking by and the Stopping and Crawling took longer and longer ..... The New Yorkers kept giving THIS direction to their destination, then THAT direction ..... turn left .... now right and one more block, now left, and they were SURE their hotel was only a few minutes away .....  My stomach was starting to knot up.

Husband began to speak up about flight times, and the other airport-bound couple in the back seat were grimly quiet.  Husband handed some cab fare to two of the passengers, asking them to get off at the next corner and catch another cab.   Finally all the city people got off, and we continued to Stop and Crawl our way through the mess.  The four of us were visually glued to our watches by this time, and Husband pulled rank with his phone GPS.  The useless driver seemed clueless and totally overwhelmed, but continued to argue about which way to go.  Fortunately the GPS, and its determined owner, won the battle and we finally got out of the city.

"There are two ways to get to the airport."  Useless Driver said.  "But the faster way will cost toll money."

"Take it!  I'll pay the toll!!"  (... again.)

I, with my knotted stomach, was worried about that half-hour rule, or was it an hour, which was that you MUST arrive no less than a certain amount of time before your flight, or they will NOT check your bags and you are toast.

Grim Couple in the back seat were white-knuckling their arm-rests.   Their flight was a few minutes earlier than ours, so we needed to drop them off first ..... in an airport the size of Seattle.

Useless Driver complained about her return trip through Queens.

"It's gonna cost me to get back" she whimpered.  "You owe me toll money for getting back."

"I don't need to give you more money" answered unusually-firm Husband.  "Just go back the way you were GOING to go.  Don't go the toll way."

"But I brought you all this way and I have to go ALL the way back, and it isn't fair that I should have to pay it."

"Go the way you were GOING TO GO in the first place.  I'm not giving you any more money."

"It isn't fair and it isn't nice" she continued.  "I came ALL this way ...."

"But you're not making any sense!  GO THE OTHER WAY!"

Obviously Logic had been left behind on the New Joizee dock.  It was not in the driver's seat.  The other couple escaped at their stop, and the remaining three of us, argued our way to our stop.

"It's NOT fair ....."  You people are NOT nice .... I have to go ALL that way ....."

FINALLY we got to our stop, grabbed our bags, and ran.  We didn't look back.  We never got a name or phone number to register a complaint.  We.just.ran.  And if she's still there waiting for her tip, I frankly don't care.

The blessed man at the flight counter, noting our frantic arrival, calmly assured us that all was well.  We had made it.  He kindly checked our bags and I resisted the urge to hug him.

So to Useless New Joizee Cab Driver:  May you find another job.  Maybe a quiet, solitary job in some remote stock room where you never again are put in contact with the public.  

And to the traumatized couple in the back seat:  You're welcome.