Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Cabbies Are the Devil
Last night after coming out of the a party for that new show, Love Monkey, I got clipped in the arm and shoulder by a cab.
I was standing on the corner of Third Avenue and 26th Street. The walk light came on and as I stepped onto the pavement the cab, carrying three passengers, swerved around the corner like bat out of hell. I shouted, "Hey! You hit me!" over and over, but the cab kept coming. He got stuck at a light about a block away, and so I ran in the rain and in my three inch heels and banged on the window with my palm.
"Hey! You hit me! You hit!" I yelled, yet he looked straight ahead and didn't even open the door. It was dark, my glasses were foggy, and since his light was off, I couldn't read his medallian number.
It took at least a good hour before my heart stopped beating in my throat. I realized I was extremely lucky to only have gotten clipped in the arm. Had I been standing at a different angle, he could have hit me head on.
At this point I could say really mean things about cabbies, but after a good night's rest I realized this: Karma is a bommerrang. All that guy had to do was stop the cab and see how I was, but he didn't. Instead he sped off, leaving me in the rain with a night of anxiety and anger.
Luckily, though, the universe has a way of evenng itself out, and for that I am grateful. It's out of my hands.