|TAXI!-–by Adrian 8_8 via Flickr|
I had been living in New York City for less than a month. Within my first two weeks, I had secured a part-time job at an online magazine. Meaning: I had secured a part-time job working for a rich uptown lady whose magazine was a passion project at which she could throw money. Unable to choose between myself or Kara (the other girl at the interview), Ms. Lin had hired us both. She had no way of knowing that we would become instant friends, bonding over everything from our intense crushes on John Mulaney to finishing each other’s obscure lyric-referencing sentences.
When there weren’t any interviews that needed transcribing, or pictures of quirky art installations
that needed commenting, Ms. Lin would ask us to run basic errands. Kara and I organized Lin’s office, her filing cabinets and even her toddler’s clothes.
|How does one hail a cab?—via Wikipedia|
A vortex of butterflies began to stir in my stomach as images of people catching cabs in New York Rom-Coms filled my brain. I had taken a taxi from the airport, sure, but I’d never hailed one myself. I’d never needed to.
Poor Young people in New York ride the subway. I was desperate to seem confident in front of my new boss. Casually, I asked, “Oh, any advice for hailing a cab on this street?”
Yellow taxis flew down the street at speeds that made us wonder how they’d see us. We began to giggle at our feeble presence. We hopped between different corners about five times, each time being ignored by passing taxis. By the time the seventh pedi-cab had rung it’s bell and winked at us, we were doubled over in hysterics. Rolling up to Ligne Roset in the back of a pedi-cab an hour later would be the ultimate failure.
|Was this number 6? Or 7?—by Gane via Flickr|
“We’re pathetic! What is wrong with us! This is impossible!” We yelled and laughed while confident
businessmen and ladies in Manolos got cabs instantly.
us in. “Don’t forget to tip.” Then, she was gone.
lady,” Kara said. “And, this is both!”