Daily Aggravation 52: Having to Work Past Your Prime

I think I had the somewhat dubious honor of being the passenger of the oldest cab driver in New York City today. My initial fears about his competency were confirmed when I said, “I’m going to 78th and Madison,” and his response was a confident “78th and York!” 

My first thought was, ‘Well, maybe he just didn’t hear me,’ because I’m sorry, but there is NO accent or weird moment that could make ‘Madison’ sound even remotely like ‘York.’ Then I thought, ‘Oh, God. What if he just has no memory left? Now I have to spend the whole time worrying that my cab driver is going to forget how to drive while we’re crossing Central Park.’ Luckily, we got home just fine, and after shouting and repeating directions about where to pull up and let me off, I was out of the cab and on my merry way.

It is a grave injustice that my extremely elderly cab driver is still needing to work at 154. Sounds to me like someone danced with the devil in the pale moonlight!

Daily Aggravation 8: Getting Punk’d by cab drivers

One time when I was alone, I had a cab driver who told me that he was having bowel issues and needed me to read him the instructions on the back of a box of laxatives. I did. Then he asked me if I could write said instructions down in his journal, which was a crazy person composition notebook filled with the rantings of a madman. I did. Then we pulled up in front of my building. It totally bums me out that he was just an uber-weirdo and I wasn’t on a hidden camera show that took place in the back of his cab.