Taxi Cab Confessions
The strangest thing happened the other day. I was in a taxi and guess what. The driver was the same man who took Ramona to West 26th Street! Guess what else? He had a notepad. I'm not kidding. I was going to 432 E. 43rd street and as soon as I said the address he wrote it down. But as he was writing it down in the notepad that Ramona advised him to use, he ran a red light. It wasn't his fault because he was looking at the notepad so he couldn't see the light change from yellow to red. It's like a butterfly flapping its wings in South America, causing a tsunami in Bali, and setting off a chain reaction in New York that starts with a bicycle delivery man's swerve and ends in the wife of the head of Goldman Saks catching him with a hooker. Don't ask. I can't tell. Suffice it to say that while notepads make sense in a meeting they may not make sense in moving vehicles.