Even with my aversion to interacting with people as a species, I still somehow find myself working in the largest city in Canada and for restful vacations, visiting the most populous one in North America.
The line at LaGuardia for cabs was really long so John and I did what they tell you not to do and agreed to a cab ride from one of the many poachers skulking about the terminal.
The guy looked like Terence Trent D'Arby and since I always liked that Wishing Well song, I figured it would be alright. If only I'd remembered back to the time Terence pulled this stunt, waiting in line mightn't have seemed such a bad idea.
We got into the back of his shiny Escalade and started on our way. I heard a woman's voice and was very interested to see that my spider sense hadn't even detected a being in the front seat but there she was, the driver's girlfriend I guess, talking away on her cellphone. She looked like my favourite rebellious Cosby kid circa Angel Heart only with less blood.
As we approached the toll booth, Terence was in one line and it seemed busy so he swerved over into another. He and Lisa both started yammering away with the lady in the booth who in addition to taking his money, handed over something wrapped in foil.
Oh fuck! Drugs! my brain shrieked. We're all gonna die in some sort of deal gone wrong. It turned out to just be some sort of shawarma which they shared as we drove on. With the windows cracked to let out some of the visible waves of flavour, order was slowly restored to my worried mind. I said a little prayer I Guess The Lord Must Be in New York City and we ended up exactly where we were meant to be, in front of our hotel.