moxie-dude

As many of you know, sleeping is the one thing that I’m not very good at. There are actually PLENTY of things that I’m not good at but I just ignore those. Sleep, however, is hard to ignore.

So what do I do when I can’t sleep? Mostly, I lie in bed and think about stupid things. Like the fact that, yes, Virginia, there is no laundry fairy and that I’m pretty sure that both Jonathan and Samantha complained that they had no clean clothes and did I forget to throw a load of laundry in???

Or I look things up on the internet only to discover that the word “many” in Latin is POLI, which is a buffet supper of food-for-thought for the hamster who just loves to put two and two together even though I’m not really good at math.

Polio . . . Polished . . . Police . . . Polite . . .

Then the hamster stops at the word “politics”.

POLI (many) + TICS (facial spasms) and the hamster starts to think about an old boyfriend I dated about three lifetimes ago and who I thought I really liked until I discovered that he was a compulsive liar.

Every time he lied he would get this nervous tic in his left cheek that would make his eye twitch. (No, Brian, I did not break up with you because your eye twitched. I broke up with you because you lied. About everything.)

You would think that after all this turning around in circles, the hamster would just collapse out of exhaustion but NOOOOOOOO.

The hamster is not satisfied until I get my sleep-deprived ass back out of bed to write about this epic discovery of where the word “politician” derives from.

OMG mes amis, I have so much to tell you about New York. I’ll start with this: the only thing missing is Greg. And I’m not just saying that to make him feel better about not being here. We – as in “us together” – would have such a blast here. Which is why we’ve decided to come in May. According to popular belief (well, Greg’s popular belief), May is a perfect time to visit New York. And when it comes to sharing an adventure, I don’t ask questions. I just go with it!

Also, a benefit to being my age (which generally doesn’t really have any benefits) is that I have kids old enough to be adults. And since I don’t have to worry about changing diapers anymore, they might come too for a NYC adventure the whole family can enjoy.

Okay, but that’s in May. Let me tell you about what I’m experiencing in New York NOW.

New York is like any other city only any other city on steroids. And if you’re not paying attention you just don’t recognize all the unique-to-NY specifics – like transportation.

Transportation (also known as a point of frustration) is special in New York. This is how it works. You stand on a street and raise your hand every time you see a lovely shade of yellow driving towards you. No, it’s not Big Bird. It’s a taxi. And whether he (assuming it’s a “he”) stops or not depends on how he feels.

Let’s put it this way: 11 times out of 10, he’ll pass you by because apparently taxi drivers in New York just like to drive around looking rushed.

You know that expression “she’s a whole lotta woman”? Well New York is a whole lotta city with a whole lotta people and a whole lotta taxis driving all over the place – only they’re not exactly driving around as taxi drivers – don’t let the yellow taxi car fool you (which kind of defeats the word “taxi”, but what do I know?).

I’ve figured out that taxi drivers in New York City are actually video game geeks in disguise. In their minds, they’re not really driving. They’re playing a game called “let’s see if I can squeeze through this tight spot . . . WHOA-HOA!!! I DID IT. 50 POINTS FOR ME!”.

Warning: People with heart problems should not take taxis in New York.

Then at some point in your taxi hailing endeavours, another transportation seeking pedestrian will boldly stand in front of you with the same arm raising gesture. This is when it becomes necessary to wrap up your polite disposition in a piece of bubble gum wrapper and put it in your pocket for later. You move in front of him (which could just as easily be a “her”) and the who-will-get-the-next-available-cabbie game begins and continues until you realize that you’ve just walked 17 blocks in the opposite direction of where you’re going.

Meanwhile about 32 secret-service-looking-type dark vehicles have stopped traffic by pulling in front of you to say that they’ll take you to your destination for a fixed fee which translates into seven times the price of the yellow cabbies’ fare.

So far in my three days of taxi hailing Olympic training I’ve developed awesome muscle bulges under my right armpit. I’ve also realized that the whole arm raising gesture thing is totally useless. If you want a taxi in New York, you have to jump out in front of it while praying to the taxi gods that it stops before you body slam into it.

For my next trip to New York (which I hope is before May because I actually love it here!) I’m bringing my neighbour’s son’s hockey goalie equipment. I probably won’t stand out – this is NEW YORK CITY after all – but at least I’ll be protected.