Another ride.

When I entered the subway station on 50th street, going uptown the platform was packed. There were people waiting outside of the turnstiles, listening to the voice over the speakers. “There........s.....o.....ervic...on....loca... The....1....express...tra...from...34...second...street....” There was obviously a problem with the uptown train service. There were no local trains on the 1 and 2 lines, so there was no way for me to get to Lincoln Center on time. I had to get out of there and get a cab. Easier thought than done. Getting out of the station was not a problem. I just squeezed my way back onto Broadway. Finding a cab during rush hour in the heat, which equals heavy rain when it comes to convenience, seemed almost impossible. I had to return to 8th avenue, scare away some people who were trying to squeeze in front of me on the corner. (I do not get physical, my penetrating “go away!” look seemed enough today.)
There were no cabs. None. At least no free ones. Finally one just appeared out of nowhere. “Where do you wanna go?”, the driver leaned out of his window. “Just Lincoln Center, just a few blocks.” The driver was obviously finishing his shift, so I wanted to make this ride as convenient for him as possible. “OK, get in.” we were in business. “Hello, we are the Radio City Rockettes and we get a kick out of safety, so buckle up!” (Yeah right, they were just all fired, and certainly get a kick out of safety.)
The car I found myself in was almost the same as the Crown Victoria I took just yesterday. The plastic was off, but otherwise, this was a mint fresh new car. “Wow, how old is this car?” I asked.
“It is about 10-20 days. Not very old.”
“How much is such a car?”, I asked looking at the medallion number which indicated that it was a privately owned car.
“$120,- a shift. That is $120,- for a twelve hour shift and the gas, of course.”
He obviously wasn’t the owner, but the other shift for the car.
“Wow, twelve hour shift?, You drive 12 hour shifts?”
“Yeah. I drive from 5PM up to 5AM. And then the other guy takes over. The car runs for at least 20 hours a day.”
“Wow.” I knew that somehow, but 12 hours on New York city streets still seem like a bit of a crazy thing to do.
“Yeah, the car has...”, he pauses... “32,000 miles. Haha, that is 32thousand miles in less than 20 days.”...
“This is incredible.”...“Yes, this is my corner, thank you so much, can I have a receipt? Thank you. Drive safely. Have a good shift.”
“Thank you.”
It was incredible. Not only was it incredible that he was about to drive for another 11 hours. It was also incredible that he made me believe that his shift was just ending. As he drove away, I heard the Rockettes kick some thing out of safety, remainding me to take all of my belongings when leaving the cab. I was out and back in the dirty smelly and sticky street. I was on my way to Lincoln Center. And I was back on time.