This weekend marks six months since I started driving a yellow cab in New York City. I may still be a rookie, but I know one thing: I never would have survived any of my shifts without at least one instance of light.
Sometimes it arrives when I pull up next to another cab driver fighting fatigue and braving the traffic:
Other times it’s Mike Katz, my weekend dispatcher – who speaks Spanish with a Brooklyn accent and always asks me “How’s the blog?” – who inspires me to keep going.
Of course I’d go nowhere without vendors like Sam Kandil, a former mechanical engineer from Egypt who sells hand-rolled bagels from a cart on the corner of 53rd and 7th Ave and throws a muffin in the bag when I’m not looking:
And there are few things as soul-soothing as having the perfect song come on the radio when you’re driving back to the garage after 12 hours on the road: