If I had to search for 10 1/2 hours that were more hilarious, exhausting and vertigo-inducing than my first shift behind the wheel of New York yellow cab, I don’t think I could find them.
Even in a state of intoxication, my first passenger – a very kind, patient, good-humored banker called Iggy – noted that I “seemed a little confused.”
My second passenger – a similarly blissed out Englishman in New York – told me that my “navigation skills were fairly abysmal” and that he was sorry to see a writer reduced to driving a taxi: “I support the arts, and I really think you should be doing something else.”
The rest of the shift went a little more smoothly, aside from fare #13, whose foot I nearly plastered to the asphalt of Central Park West.
There’s more – and I’ll be back mid-week to tell you all about the adventures behind the wheel (and the musings they inspired).
In the meantime, stay tuned for a run-down of the Pow-wow of the Hungry New Yorkers at Tandoor, cabbie Kamal Aftab’s favorite spot for chicken tikka masala in Rego Park.