An Interesting Time, At Least

In today's "Sometimes I feel sorry for friends who move here," you give your friend the number of your usual normal car service but the driver tonight is alas anything but, sporting a rubber chicken on the passenger seat & making weird barn animal noises.

I'm becoming downright nostalgic thinking about the gentleman driver from the service who was a dead ringer for Dracula yet courtly, in his way. It distracts from images of dumpsters, desolate dead-cell-phone spots in Queens & my friend, limbs, until I hear that she has made it home to Astoria and he did have manners enough to wait for her to get in. I was pushing for a shot of the rubber chicken; don't think one was taken.

The driver did, breaking reports inform me, shout out "Chicken! Chicken! Yellow chicken!" at the yellow cabs, who, yeah, deserve it, going by the brusque logic that is vintage caveman sophisticate gotham, with "sophisticate" often only referring to the price tag these daze (wacka wacka). Well, I often say to friends I feel sorry for in this scenario, friends who have not grown up around this particular breed of mad wildness (and would not, as I probably would, ask if the rubber chicken symbolized his opposition to yellow cabs or ?), don't say I didn't at least help show you an interesting time.