Mere Duchess

Big Yellow Taxi(s)

I miss a lot of things about New York.  Street meat, Drakes cakes, subway performers…the usual.  But more than anything, I miss cab culture.  Sure we have taxis here in Chicago, but it’s just not the same.  First of all, unless you live right in the heart of the Loop, you can’t count on just being able to hail one – without budgeting about a half an hour (an hour if you live in the hood.)  Then, when they come, the cabbie won’t take off until you tell him which route to take.  After I tell him I don’t drive and wind up having to explain -“I grew up in New York”- he lets me know I’m a grown man and should know how to drive and what kind of a man am I and I should be ashamed.  Chicago cabbies will always choose the slowest, most roundabout route, and inevitably what would have been a 10 minute bus ride (this was about convenience, right?) winds up being a $30 cab ride and your night is ruined.  Aaaaargh!

The explanation is this: everyone takes cabs in New York.  NYC cabbies have a vested interest in getting you where you need to go, so that they can collect more fares.  However, their Chicago counterparts aren’t really guaranteed a new fare (unless they want to burn gas to get downtown) so they milk each one for all it’s worth.

During my recent trip, I was also shocked to see that every New York taxi takes credit cards now?  Amazeballs.  Only the airport cabs (and some of them, at best) take plastic here.  Sigh. 

Here’s the thing, though – what I was really struck by was the way that New Yorkers act in and around cabs.  As opposed to being reluctant chauffeurs, New York cab drivers tend to act as urban Sherpas…suggesting the hippest nightspots, museum openings and the like to their passengers.  Very often, cabdrivers are more plugged into the city’s “goings on” than an issue of Time Out New York.  It’s also worth noting that New York City cabbies are like Teflon—they’ve seen it all (as any episode of “Taxicab Confessions” will attest), dealt with the world’s biggest assholes, and kept their cool in the process.  In return, their passengers are often extremely open with them and the ride becomes this intimate cocktail-party-on-wheels for a magical couple of minutes. 

And for a city not necessarily known for its civility, New Yorkers are very polite when it comes to cab sharing.  It’s nothing for a New Yowka to turn to another waiting alongside them for a cab in the rain to suggest splitting a cab.  When I do this in the Windy City, people act as if I’ve just asked for a picture of their mother naked and tend to walk away slowly, visibly creeped out.  Sorry – I was just being considerate, you know?  Whatever.  Point is…Cabs…New York City…there’s nothing like it.  Really.