A Tuesday Truth, Part 2.
Well, more of an observation really.
WHO the monkey are The Cab Drivers talking to on their cellies? WHO. Who. Who? Five am cab ride, and the driver is yappin' away in Parseltongue. Or Portuguese. Or Siamese, maybe. 6 pm cab ride, driver is spewing Pig Latin, switching lanes, sipping coffee, smoking a cig, while talking on what looks to be a walkie talkie and a cellie simultaneously. 2 am cab ride, same story. Except this cabbie is taking a swig of Jack Daniels, blasting Indi-pop, jumpin' curbs, while talking on what appears to be 9 cell phones, one Blackberry, two iPhones, with his laptop on the seat next to him- checking his emails and posting on Myspace.
This is perplexing! All we want is to make sure we get to our destination safely and mostly alive! And whatever happened to the art of polite-surface-level-person-to-person bullsh#$? A simple 'how do you do?' Or even a 'lovely day, today.' Maybe we have watched one too many old films. Or maybe we long for simpler times. Golly, maybe we are just too gosh darn sensitive for public transpo. Time to invest in a beautiful bike.
(Transpo Sidenote: This morning, our 7-year-old darling curious stargazer asked:
"Which is faster, horses or cars?"
"Well our car has a lot of horsepower. Lots of horsepower under the hood."
We smiled and said "Yes, that sounds about right.")