Oh New York, we've missed you so. Disembarkation went smoothly and we were off the 'Mary into the Brooklyn Cruise Terminal, clearing Immigration and Customs by 10:00 a.m. Taxi line was a touch chaotic for a "cruise terminal" but we managed to snag a yellow taxi van and we were on our way to the Ravel Hotel in Long Island City--or so we thought. The cab driver's route leaving the terminal was slightly unique but ask a New Yorker for a "perfect route" and you will get a thousand different responses. Under the Taxi Rider Bill of Rights, a driver is requested to follow the passenger's preferred route but most of the time it's a moot point as the New York cab drivers are pretty good (except in the winter when most of them-- who happen to be from countries filled with sand--try to navigate New York's icy streets creating a fair amount of accidents and comedy.) After our jaunt through downtown Brooklyn, our driver begins to head toward the BQE-aka the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway which is anything but--however, a fairly direct route to our hotel. But, instead of getting on the BQE, our driver gets on the Brooklyn Bridge heading into Manhattan. CW and I look at each other and I confirm with our driver he knows the location of our hotel, thinking maybe, just maybe, he misheard me. Nope--he had heard me quite well and then proceeds to tell us that all the cab drivers, when going to Queens, go into Manhattan and then out of Manhattan. The gig is now up and I tell our driver just because we got off the Queen Mary 2 he shouldn't have assumed we were hicks from Edmonds I mean Cork. But he keeps up the routine and heads north up First Avenue in Manhattan--notoriously slow! Well, thanks to Mayor Mike, it's very easy to make complaints about anything in New York City these days--just dial 311--as some of our bar neighbors do. So, I dial 311, I am connected to the Taxi and Limousine Commission, and by the time we are pulling into our hotel, I have an official complaint filed and a future hearing scheduled regarding the driver's actions. Well, about fifteen minutes after driving away, the taxi driver returns and motions me outside. He begs for mercy and I say no go. I think I wasn't giving clemency mostly because my two Dreadful Creatures were made to suffer an extra long trip in a hot taxi. Only in New York, Kids, only in New York...
Friday, July 31, 2009
Welcome Home!
Oh New York, we've missed you so. Disembarkation went smoothly and we were off the 'Mary into the Brooklyn Cruise Terminal, clearing Immigration and Customs by 10:00 a.m. Taxi line was a touch chaotic for a "cruise terminal" but we managed to snag a yellow taxi van and we were on our way to the Ravel Hotel in Long Island City--or so we thought. The cab driver's route leaving the terminal was slightly unique but ask a New Yorker for a "perfect route" and you will get a thousand different responses. Under the Taxi Rider Bill of Rights, a driver is requested to follow the passenger's preferred route but most of the time it's a moot point as the New York cab drivers are pretty good (except in the winter when most of them-- who happen to be from countries filled with sand--try to navigate New York's icy streets creating a fair amount of accidents and comedy.) After our jaunt through downtown Brooklyn, our driver begins to head toward the BQE-aka the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway which is anything but--however, a fairly direct route to our hotel. But, instead of getting on the BQE, our driver gets on the Brooklyn Bridge heading into Manhattan. CW and I look at each other and I confirm with our driver he knows the location of our hotel, thinking maybe, just maybe, he misheard me. Nope--he had heard me quite well and then proceeds to tell us that all the cab drivers, when going to Queens, go into Manhattan and then out of Manhattan. The gig is now up and I tell our driver just because we got off the Queen Mary 2 he shouldn't have assumed we were hicks from Edmonds I mean Cork. But he keeps up the routine and heads north up First Avenue in Manhattan--notoriously slow! Well, thanks to Mayor Mike, it's very easy to make complaints about anything in New York City these days--just dial 311--as some of our bar neighbors do. So, I dial 311, I am connected to the Taxi and Limousine Commission, and by the time we are pulling into our hotel, I have an official complaint filed and a future hearing scheduled regarding the driver's actions. Well, about fifteen minutes after driving away, the taxi driver returns and motions me outside. He begs for mercy and I say no go. I think I wasn't giving clemency mostly because my two Dreadful Creatures were made to suffer an extra long trip in a hot taxi. Only in New York, Kids, only in New York...
