A New York Taxi Story

Brooklyn College has invited me to NYC, one of the rare speaking engagements where I’m going to be a paid speaker. Before you think that amounts to much, this trip is netting me train, hotel, and $100 for meals and such. In New York, a $100 lasts about a minute.

3:19 pm – Getting in a taxi I hail a cab, and climbing in, tell the driver to take me to the Brooklyn College Library in Brooklyn. I’m running a few minutes late, but I figure I can still make it in time. That’s until, as we’re crossing the Brooklyn Bridge I hear:

“Brooklyn, I’ve never been here before.”

3:27 pm – Somewhere in Brooklyn We’ve now confirmed that this driver does not know where Brooklyn College Library is with the brilliant statement: “There are many colleges in Brooklyn.” I start franticly calling Google 411 trying to track down their phone number to get directions while manically scanning the streets for a taxi stand or some other transport option.

The taxi driver is in his own manic moment, scribbling furiously on a clipboard. At first I thought it was his manifest, but then I realized he was nuts and this was his scribble pad. This will not be a Portland Taxi Perfection experience.

3:47 pm – Avenue, Brooklyn I have 13 minutes to make my presentation but at least we now know where we are going. The college gave me directions but laughed when I asked how long it would take. So did the taxi driver, but he’s nuts. And slow.

Can he be any slower? I think he’s stopping on yellow lights! I know for sure that other cars are passing him. And yet he still scribbles.

4:12 pm – A side street near Brooklyn College I’ve bailed out of the cab. I figure I can run there faster than he can drive. I know it felt great to cuss him out and slam his door so hard kids on the street spun around thinking it gunfire.

I am still cussing his name as dash across streets, asking people here and there where the college is.

4:19 pm “Where is the library?” I yell at the college guard as I jump the turnstile entrance. I am late, sweating, and thinking my chance to speak is passing. “That way,” he says with an outstretched hand.

I run “that way” on a curved sidewalk, cool Brooklynites wiz past in a blur of building scanning. Gym, classrooms, ah, the library!

4:21 pm – Brooklyn College Library “Sir, you must exit the building.” What? That does not compute. Exit? Why? Bomb scare? What bomb scare? I need to give a speech! Out of my way, please.
No, out of their way I am cast. Onto the lawn, in a daze. Panic replaced by confusion. There will be no speech today. No need for the rush, for the push, for the dash.

5:18 pm Speech ungiven, thoughts not expressed, day wasted, I’m on my way back to Penn Station. On the subway.