Cab drivers are funny. Every time you hail a cab, it’s like a tiny surprise party. Will it be a man or a woman? What sort of smell will greet you? Will the credit card machine be “broken”? Will there be music? Will the driver be on the phone? Will the driver want to chat with you the whole ride? Last night, I experienced my first cab driver wingman.
A kind gentleman hailed me a cab on Houston and insisted that, though he was going to the Financial District and I was Gramercy-bound, we should share. He tells the cab driver we’ll be making two stops and tells him my cross streets. The driver then sits silently in front for 10 minutes as the gentleman proceeds to throw down some phenomenally charming game. Phenomenally charming.
As we turn onto my block, the charmer tells the driver the address of the second stop. The driver immediately stops the car, turns around and says “still?!” I assure him that a second stop will still be necessary as he laughs out loud at my suitor and tries to comfort him “dude…wow. I cannot believe it!”
I don’t know what transpired on the ride downtown, but I like to think my suitor made a lifelong friend.