new york cabbies are truly special people, most of whom scare the shit out of me. they are either angels, heavenly harbingers to Jesus meant to trick and spy on all of us, or demon people, both concepts being very obviously and equally horrifying.
late night taxi rides are exceptionally surreal. the combination of taxi tv sounds in the back seat mixed with whatever eerie AM talk show the cab driver is listening to while speaking in foreign tongue to his best bud in agudsfhakefakistan can all make for one skin-tingling ride to wherever it is you're going, and who the fuck ever knows where that is? i can't stand AM radio. it's like voices from another planet coming through some weird electrical fog smoke to possess you. and then it's all dark but bright outside, being that it's new york, and therein the paradox, with all sorts of groovy people moving around, plus sometimes you're just too paranoid or drunk anyway, and then all of it is just complete surreality as you're cruising down 2nd to Delancey in the epicenter of the Universe.
anyhow - i remember being picked up once by a cab that I swear to God was being driven by Woody fucking Allen. he started talking some philosophies to me the instant i got in the car, and when i heard his voice and saw the back of the head, i was overcome by this mortified, freezing fear thinking WA was driving my cab, holy shit woody fucking allen is driving this car and how can i let every last one of my friends and family know right this instant without being too obvious??? we talked about life and love and what makes it all come together all the way up until he dropped me off somewhere on the west side. i payed and never saw his face, but what the fuck, why wouldn't woody allen just be driving cabs around new york, talking to people about life? i think i actually would too, if i could, for a minute or two, at least.
i once had a cab driver brake wildly on the Williamsburg Bridge and make to bitch slap me through the partition after i questioned his street-finding prowess. speaking of which, Midnight in Paris, Woody's latest flick is so damn pleasing, you must see it if only because you've completely forgotten what it's like to smile your face off for two full hours, straight.
