Valentine's Day Massa-car

I got somethin' to say, and you all had better listen because I'm mad, and I've been keeping it in almost a whole day! You can tell I'm pissed because my title-punning is terrible.

Yesterday I was pleased because my Valentine's Day plans changed from me getting rush tickets and going to the opera alone to me reserving tickets and going to the opera with someone and not having to pay at all. We were meeting for dinner at this place called Mr. Chow (hereafter referred to as Dr. Tang) on 57th St. There's your background information.

So this restaurant (which I also have some things to say about, but now is not the time) is not far from my apartment, but when it's all cold and icy, it's not something you'd walk. I was going to get a cab. Obviously, right? Well apparently there was some sort of subway problem, not to mention the fact that it was Valentine's Day dinnertime and disgusting outside, so everyone was getting cabs. This made my task decidedly more difficult, so I decided to walk down 2nd Ave. and just wave around for a cab when the cars were going in my direction.

Eventually, I tracked down a cab. At this point, I was at 72nd St. or so, and having just walked 7 blocks, I was wet in the feet and cold in the ears and getting annoyed. But whatever, I had a cab. The driver did that rude thing where they open the window and ask where you're going before you get in so that if they don't like the answer they can just drive away. I decided to thwart his dastardly plan by opening the door and starting to get in before I said anything.

So when I told him my destination, he said it wasn't far enough or something, I dunno, I couldn't hear him nor did I care about his stupid assface opinion. (I love ignoring cab drivers, it's like a sport... there are so many ways... you can pretend you thought he was speaking into his hands-free cell phone... you can pretend you can't understand his accent... OR you can pretend you have your own incomprehensible accent so that he'll ignore you... but I parenthetically digress.)

Right, so here's the corker: instead of getting mad at me for ignoring him (I wouldn't care anyway) or saying it again when I sat down (I wouldn't listen anyway), the dickhead decides to just drive off.... while I'm halfway in his car! He BEE-LINED out of there like he saw a shiny nickel on the street 10 blocks down. So with a "Jesus Christ, [racial slur of which I am ashamed]" I managed to get out of the way, get his door closed, and not die, though I did slip and twist my ankle pretty badly, which made the remaining 15 blocks right difficult. Ever tried to walk down a snowy sidewalk with a twisted ankle and shoes with no traction? It was like A Christmas Carol on Ice except being almost 6 and a half feet tall, I fall a lot harder than Tiny Tim.

So I was a half-hour late to dinner, but we both were. He also had a nightmare cab story, though mine was better. Ooooh, I was so aggravated. I was totally rude to this waiter, but that's more a part of the Dr. Tang (Mr. Chow) story, which perhaps I will regale you with later.

Anyway, the point of the story is that I need your help. My ankle is fine, but my anger burns with the fire of a thousand McDonald's coffees. Sadly, I have no idea who this cab driver is or for which company he worked. So next time you are taking a cab in New York, do me a favor and punch the driver in the head. When he says "WTF???" just say "That's the tough arm of justice at work!" You may be concerned about beating up innocent people, but that's the cost, sorry. We'll get him eventually.