Notwithstanding my protestions to the contrary in a prior blog entry, my experiences from last night . . .

I’m in a cab because my back is too sore for the steps to the subway (as if the stops and starts of an insane cab driver are any less injurious) and I am not responding to any comments and offering gratuitous conversation.

I even tried to tell him where I wanted to go by telepathy rather than words.  AND, I am wearing a cap to cover up the word schmuck on my forehead.

From his name, he is Sikh. Do you think he would think I were Sikh or would he know I was “Jew”? I am not going to try it.

I’ll just sit here, assuming the crash position.

Ok, I yelled, “dude, pull over to let the ambulance by!!” I couldn’t hold back. I don’t usually say, “dude” but I’ve talked to way too many bankers today.

His only response was, “what street again?” “The one you just drove past.” Screeech, and a hard left on 107th Street.

I am going to need Percocet after this. And Vycodin and a few other narcotics I’ve never heard of and can’t spell.

And the cab smells bad, too.