You're Not in Nevis

In the early 1980s, I was obsessed with tropical islands and was visiting the Caribbean nearly every winter. Often, I would island hop, traveling to two islands in one trip on a 10-day vacation.
In December 1983, I was with my sister and brother-in-law, visiting both Nevis and Monsterrat. We arrived at the Nevis airport, and I proceeded to rent a car. I wrote about my experience in The Point of Impact on October 25, 2010: 

I was completely dumbfounded when, in renting a car at the tiny airport, I was only asked when I would return. There was no paperwork or contracts, the only requirement to show a drivers license. The owner of the vehicle confirmed our agreement as to the rate ($25 per day), asked when I would return the car, and just handed me the keys.

Upon arriving at my inn, the first question I had was to the inn owner about this car rental transaction - the most puzzling and lackadaisical I have ever seen in my life. He said to be assured, the owner would know my whereabouts at any given moment. I asked how that was possible. He told me that Nevis was a very small place (the island nation only has a population of 12,000), and everyone knew everything. I asked how any problems would be resolved. He assured me that everything would be fine, just don't have an accident. This was not comforting at all.

What I did not mention in this story is the larger issue of theft. Effectively there was none, for the same reasons the renter of the car was unconcerned about details of who I was. If everyone knows everyone in a small island, stealing will be difficult to accomplish without getting caught. If I steal your TV, how will I keep it a secret without living a cloistered life? Word travels like wildfire and learn of the theft immediately, all eyes will be on the lookout, and invariably, someone will learn of its new home.

This is not unlike the small rural town in an isolated area, where the Golden Rule is even a more powerful operative, perhaps more so than the threat of punishment in being found out. In New York City, however, we have the polar opposite situation. This is a place where thieves can easily mix without fear of discovery. Opportunity knocks at every turn, and every prudent New Yorker never lets their guard down completely. Rituals and habits become second nature - without conscious effort, we guard our handbags, lock our doors, and never leave anything in sight in an automobile. We rotate watch over belongings in restaurants as turns are taken to use the bathroom.

And we chain our bikes. However, chaining by one wheel will not do the job - a bike less one wheel is a worthy candidate for theft. Best to lock both wheels and the frame altogether, or the frame and one wheel, carrying the other wheel with you. Even a wheel alone may be stolen.
There are places, such B&H Photo, where you know You're Not in Kansas. In today's photo, we have a cluster of front and back bicycle wheels chained together. A bit of a mystery, but one thing for sure - one glimpse and you know You're Not in Nevis :)

Related Posts: Last to See the Future, With Impunity, One Screw, Street Cred, Orange You Glad

My Ride With André

I loved My Dinner With André. This award winning film is a two-hour conversation between two individuals in a restaurant in New York City. On the basis of the premise, it might appear that such a film would be boring, but quite the contrary. I found it very engaging and at times, even riveting.
Good conversation is often overlooked as an activity or reason to get together, even by those who greatly enjoy it and engage in the most impassioned interactions imaginable.

When I was in college, invariably someone would interrupt a very animated discussion with "So what are we doing?" meaning, of course, What are we doing tonight? Where are we going?, etc. He or she would get little response as the rest of us would be completely immersed in conversation. The question would come up again and again, sometimes others joining in the mix, round-robin style. There was a nagging quality to the desperate plea, the asker irritated that no one was listening to the question, everyone was wasting time, and no decision as to the night's plan was being made. Yet no one appeared to see the irony of the situation. Our impassioned conversation(s) were likely more interesting than anything we would find outside.

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$57.50, Part 2

Driving back into Manhattan at night, a friend and I decided to drop into a local cafe on 8th Street, just a half block from my parking garage. However, it was cold, the street was virtually empty, and parking was legal - it was after 10 PM and one no longer even had to pay for metered parking. So, why not park right in front and drop the car at the garage later?

I examined and reviewed the signs. The upper sign, Special Night Regulation, made no impression. Unlike the white backgrounds typically used for signs (in the two center signs--see Part 1 here), this one was like a graphic black hole - the sign used white type on a dark red and black background.

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$57.50, Part 1

I need to brag just a little so that you fully understand the impact of an episode which occurred on December 10, 2011.

I drove a taxi for about one and a half years and have owned a car in NYC for most of my life. I understand New York City parking regulations and signs. I have street parked for years. I interpret signs and help others understand them whenever possible. I even did a story on the logic of parking regulations and signage.

And, most importantly, I DON'T GET PARKING TICKETS (the only parking ticket I recall receiving was over 30 years ago). I rarely stand in No Standing or stop in No Stopping zones. I check parking signs religiously and read and reread them if necessary. With the exception of momentary loading or unloading (while double parking), I never leave my car illegally parked and unattended for more than a moment.

I park within 12 inches of the curb. I never park within 15 feet of a fire hydrant or in front of a driveway. And I garage my car, so my street parking within New York City is limited. I use the vehicle primarily for excursions to the outer boroughs or out of the city entirely.

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Wild Ride

Wednesday night, returning from Brooklyn, I was feeling a little wild, as is sometimes the case when I find myself driving in New York City and life is GOOD. Then the city just ELECTRIFIES me - I can feel its high voltage coursing through my body. Everything is RIGHT and I know I am in the world's most exciting city.

With no prior plan to do so, I suddenly just decided to pull out a camera and video record a leg of my journey with stream of consciousness narration as I drove. See the NYC skyline from the BQE. Cross the Manhattan Bridge with me and then cruise the streets of Lower Manhattan, NoHo and the Village. The footage is raw, jumpy and a little out of focus at times. It's not reality TV - it's the REAL DEAL while on a Wild Ride >>>

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I'll Kill You

Children soon learn the power of words, even if they do not know the full meaning. Take the ever popular "I'll Kill You." Adults often dispense with the words and just perform the act. Particularly when angry. And nothing enrages a New Yorker more than a breech of certain types of urban etiquette, particularly street parking etiquette. And yes, there is such a thing.

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212 and 2:12

Many non-residents cannot fathom why New Yorkers tolerate so many extreme hardships, while life outside the city is in many ways so much easier and less expensive. I have created a category for some of my stories called Slings and Arrows, which illuminates many of these day-to-day dramas. In Dwanna, I told of how one new resident (who hailed from Tennessee) left nearly as quickly as she got here, even though she was ambitious, hard-working, and successful in finding a good job and housing. Her reason for leaving? Life was just too hard.

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Follow the Crowd

The best things about having driven a taxi in New York City are 1) street cred and 2) the stories. The stories, because if you drive long enough in a big city and pick up an average of 30 passengers per work shift, eventually you will have experiences worth telling. Such is the fodder that prompted the award winning HBO TV documentary series, Taxicab Confessions, which originated in New York City.

As regular readers here already know, I did a stint of about one and a half years as a taxi driver in the early 1970s, a very rough time in the city. Picking up the severely drunk passengers was one big problematic scenario. It can have entertainment value, but most likely, the ugly side of drunkenness will reveal its head sooner or later - typically not later than the end of the ride.
Often friends will stuff a drunk friend in a taxi, thereby transferring responsibility and care taking to a taxi diver, with a sigh of relief, I am sure.

As one reader pointed out in my story, Flailing and Hailing, there are downsides to taxi travel outside Manhattan. A rider should know how to get to their destination. Many drivers are severely deficient in their knowledge of the boroughs, don't carry maps or use GPS. Taxis are expensive and you don't want a driver to be learning NYC geography at your expense.

However, there is risk to the driver too. Although the passenger is paying for distance traveled, the most money is not made by wandering aimlessly in hopes that the passenger will at last remember how to get home or where they live. More money is earned in a given time period by getting passengers to their destination as quickly as possible, not crawling around unknown neighborhoods.

On one night, I picked up a passenger who was visibly inebriated. He did not have an address, but assured me that he could navigate to his home. As we approached the first fork in a roadway and I asked "left or right?", he responded "follow the crowd." This became the refrain at every juncture, where conveniently it appeared that our destination was in the direction of the greater traffic flow.

Until there was no crowd.

I realized I was in trouble when at one junction with no cars in front of us, I was again told to follow the crowd. This was time to turn around completely and interrogate. Did he or did he not know where he was going? I was in the middle of nowhere, no people around, no clear address, and only his assurance that he could direct me to his home.

I don't recall where I left him, only that I ordered him out of my taxi right there, which took some doing. At this point in my life, I would do more. Perhaps drive to a populated area and look for a police car or ask for a police station to drop him off. But I was young, intolerant, frustrated and broke. Time is money for the taxi driver. You need to know where you are going, not heed the directions of a drunk man whose directions consist solely of "follow the crowd." :)

Related Posts: Leave the Driving to Us, Nice Move, Kid, The Point of Impact, Flailing and Hailing, Sittin' on Top of the World, What numba Kissena?

Leave the Driving to Us

There are a number of ways to approach driving a car in New York City. If you bring ideas of expediency and reliable travel times to the table, you are in for a very stressful time. Compulsive lane changing to gain small advantages, agonizing over every sanitation truck working ahead of you, screeching and lurching to maximize speed only to get to a traffic light earlier - all these things will just eat at your soul.

There are ways, times, and routes to minimize trip time, of course. However, one must always be prepared for one or even an unending series of traffic snarls, mishaps and poor choices which you could not have foreseen. These things are not incidents, they are a way of life. For those inclined to eastern disciplines, learning to live with New York City traffic and not get ruffled is one of most difficult forms of moving meditation and ultimate exercises in letting go.

I have owned a car for most of the 42 years I have lived in New York City, and I am not daunted by city traffic or driving. But if you value your time and your mind, the subway is the way to travel in New York City. The train traveler generally avoids the slings and arrows of outrageous traffic. There are subway delays, reroutings, dropped service, etc., but generally this will be the best way to travel the city.

However, sometimes you just don't feel like traveling underground, particularly on beautiful days like we have had lately, when it seems like a crime to descend to the subterranean depths. You have no car or access to one, and you do not want to break the bank taking a taxi. If you have the time, for destinations in a straight line within one borough (crosstown bus connections are free but add even more time to an already slow journey) and during daylight or evening hours, you can't beat a bus. Here, as in auto travel, your skills in letting go will also be tested - buses deal with the same traffic issues as cars and make stops every couple blocks, making what for many will feel like an interminable journey.

There are many reasons people opt for buses in New York City including safety and no need to climb stairs. But my biggest plus is the tremendous sightseeing for the cost of bus fare. There is probably no better bus ride in New York City than a trip down Fifth Avenue, any time of year.

I recently embarked at 80th Street heading downtown to the Village. North of 59th Street, on the left side, you are treated to the world of privilege with some of the world's finest apartment buildings and museums. On the right side, Fifth Avenue flanks Central Park. At 59th Street, we have the Sherry Netherland, the Plaza Hotel, the distinctive glass cube of the Apple store and the start of an endless parade of flagship shops of the some the world's finest retailers. At 50th Street, we have St. Patrick's Cathedral (see here and here) and Rockefeller Center. Later, we pass the Empire State Building, Madison Square Park, the Met Life Tower, and the Flatiron and New York Life Insurance Buildings. Evening is a great time to travel as the lights begin to glimmer and glow.

Carry the spirit of the traveler or explorer who knows there will be obstacles, hurdles and other unexpected difficulties, but has no time table or tight schedules. If we meet and I have my car, I'll take you for a ride. Otherwise, jump on the bus and in either case, relax, let go and leave the driving to us :)

Related Posts: A Bottle of Schweppes, Shake Shack, Cello Class, Ice Skating in October, The Plaza, Stamp of Approval, When Worlds Collide, 23 Skidoo, The Sherry, Saks Fifth Avenue, St. Patrick's Cathedral, Apple and Sherry, Life at Night, Met Life Tower, St. Patrick's from the Rock, ESB Straight Up

Other Driving Related Posts: Nice Move, Kid, The Point of Impact, Flailing and Hailing, Sittin' on Top of the World, What numba Kissena?

Nice Move, Kid

I was sweating bullets. It was the road test for my driver's license, I was 16 and this was the major right of passage into a future of independence and adulthood. There were the responsibilities of driving a motor vehicle with the inherent risks of bodily harm to oneself and others but most important to a teenager, you now had wheels. And that meant a new found freedom. As long as you had access to a vehicle, of course.

A road test at that time in the suburbs was remarkably simple, virtually a formality. The expectation was that one would pass unless otherwise proven incompetent. My test consisted of driving a couple roads, a simple turn and parking in a wide open lot on return.

However, this still was a major event and it would be a tragedy to fail. When my examiner asked for a simple right turn, I drove over the curb. His response is engraved in my mind and I sometimes still hear it to this day: "Nice move, kid."

He might as well have said, "step out, you're finished." The rest of the very short road test was trying to live through the embarrassment and humiliation. Upon my return to Motor Vehicles, my instructor told me to go inside the office. He left without saying whether I had passed or failed. I assumed someone inside would be the harbinger of bad news. At the counter, I asked if I had failed. The clerk appeared perplexed and said that she was only told to process my license. Apparently examiners allowed for extreme nervousness.

Fortunately, parallel parking was not part of the exam. This is a skill that many living outside a city never learn or need to. I have watched many visitors to New York City try to parallel park in a very roomy spot, yet leave in frustration after repeated failed attempts to get in.

On a recent journey to Brooklyn, I had great difficulty finding a parking spot. The only thing available within blocks of my destination was a spot so tight that there was only an inch or two of additional space over the length of my car. But duty called. In these tight spots, the first cut you make steering is critical. The rest is finessing mixed with tedium. In a parking space this tight, gentle bumping the other vehicles with every move forward and back is required. Regardless of how gentle you are, best the owners of the neighboring cars are not there to witness this process.

More extreme circumstances arise where no spot large enough can be found. Can you park in a spot shorter than your vehicle? Yes. I have seen large heavy cars park in spaces like this by pushing and moving cars in front and in back with each iteration as they wedged themselves in.

A honed skill at parallel parking brings street cred and bespeaks of a seasoned New Yorker. Get it right with a perfect first cut, a minimum of jockeying, leaving your car within inches of the curb and perhaps you will hear from an observer what I once did, but without the sarcasm - "Nice Move, Kid." :)

Everything Yes

While driving through Queens, on the way to somewhere else, I happened upon the most extraordinary cemetery. Or, cemeteries. Seventeen cemeteries to be exact, straddling the Brooklyn/Queens border. The first, with its exquisite rows of undulating white headstones, turned out to be a cemetery of tremendous historic importance, the Cypress Hills National Cemetery, one of the original fourteen national cemeteries (top photo). Cypress Hills Cemetery was established in 1849 as a nonsectarian burial ground. In 1862, during the Civil War, 2.7 acres were authorized by the private cemetery to be used by the United States federal government as burial spot for Veterans who did in New York City. There are over 21,000 interments in the cemetery. You can read more about it here.

Abutting these grounds, I noticed a number of very large mausoleums. As I was leaving, I saw that the main entrance at the corner of Jamaica and Hale Avenues was open and unguarded, so, completely unfettered I decided to drive in. I discovered the most extraordinary cemetery I have ever been in (center and bottom photos). See my gallery of photos here.

Some of the structures were the size of small homes. Many of the names were quite familiar - Guggenheim, Goldman, Fox, Shubert etc. Could this possibly be the Guggenheim? The Fox of Twentieth Century Fox? The Shubert of theater fame?

Yes they are. Salem Fields Cemetery at 775 Jamaica Avenue in Brooklyn was founded in 1852 by the Central Synagogue and is the resting place for many prominent Jewish families in New York City. Salem Fields has been compared to places like the Père Lachaise Cemetery of Paris. The Guggenheim family mausoleum was modeled after the Tower of the Winds at Athens.

The weather with a cool crisp air was exquisite, the light perfect, the autumn colors beautiful. I was the lone visitor, touring with complete freedom, stopping at every photo opportunity. Unlike many things in New York City, riddled with security procedures, lines, reservations or admission costs, Salem Fields could well have hung a sign for the day - everything yes :)

Eternal Vigilance and Tenacity

I know a man who has trained domestic cats that do an entire circus act, including jumping through hoops of fire*. Remarkable really. I have had a number of cats in my lifetime and as anyone can attest, they are extremely difficult to train or discipline. Much as it has been said that the price of freedom is eternal vigilance - it is also the price of having a disciplined feline. Cats are extraordinarily persistent, patient and unrelenting in getting what they want and ultimately will wear an owner down the moment he or she relaxes.

New York City is also quite unrelenting. Thieves never give up, new measures to secure property are foiled, drug dealers move back into areas cleaned up, new variants on vandalism arise. Only massive diligence and constant attention have a permanent effect. Few areas of the city get that kind of attention. When things do improve, the tendency is to relax. And then that damn cat is back on the kitchen counter.

There is a lot of whining and howling from bicyclers in New York City who want to see a more bike friendly city. Understandable, since on the surface of it, bicycling would seem like a wonderful mode of transport, like it is elsewhere. Efficient, clean, lean and green. I love bicycles and have always had one in the city, although I use it much less frequently now.

However - and New York is the city of howevers - bicycling in New York has had a plethora of problems and roadblocks, daunting to all but the toughest and most tenacious. The dangers and deaths are realities - see the ghost bike of Derek Lake here. Two of my coworkers are regular bikers and commute from Brooklyn to Manhattan daily. One has pledged that she is essentially boycotting the city's transit system due to cost. It requires the use of heavy locks, chains and bravery to navigate the streets of New York.

Bicycling has seen numerous setbacks and obstacles to progress. In other parts of the United States and Europe, we see many innovative and progressive ideas regarding bicycle use and storage. Hearing of things like The Yellow Bike Project of Portland Oregon or the BikeValet Automated parking system of Europe (there are plans to install this in NYC) just adds insult to injury for the New York cyclist who only aspires to getting from here to there safely and parking without their bike being stolen or vandalized.

But the bike community in New York City is militant and relentless. Recently, a number of steps forward have been taken. Bike lanes have been more seriously implemented, and new legislation has been passed: buildings with freight elevators are required to allow employees to bring their bikes upstairs and parking garages of certain sizes are now required to offer parking for bicycles - see the NY times article here. Many question, though, whether $68.89 per month is progressive or draconian. Rates as high as $160 per month have been reported.

Ultimately, improvements and positive change in New York City are incremental and arduous as we move two steps forward and one step back. Whether cats, freedom, crime or bicycles in New York, the price is always eternal vigilance and tenacity...

*The act is known as Dominique and his Flying House Cats. Dominique LeFort performs regularly at Westin Pier for Sunset Celebration adjacent to Mallory Square in Key West, Florida. Valery Tsoraev with Clyde Beatty-Cole Bros Circus has an act with trained house cats. Yuri Kuklachev, a clown with the Bolshoi Circus, created the Moscow Cats Theatre featuring 120 domestic cats. Gregory Popovich started Comedy Pet Theatre with 14 cats, eight dogs, three rats and two pigeons.

Other Bicycling Posts: Derek Lake (ghost bike), Orange You Glad, Get Well Curve, Jungle Gym, Left For Dead, Urban Bike Polo, Wild Crash, Art Bikes, Penny Farthing.

Abandon All Preconceived Notions Ye Who Enter Here

The Story of Driss Aqil


There should be a sign at every tunnel or bridge approaching New York City, at every NYC airport, bus and train station, and on the door of every New York City taxicab, which boldly proclaims:
Abandon All Preconceived Notions Ye Who Enter Here.

If you are unwilling to heed this admonition, be prepared to have all your stereotypes, biases, racial or ethnic profiling and distinctions made by class or job seriously challenged.
Of course, generalities do generally apply. Typically, you don't find an adjunct professor of Mathematics and Ph.D candidate driving a taxi. But I said typically, not a very useful word in New York City.

I rarely take taxis these days unless I have to transport heavy objects or loads, which was the case on Thursday, October 14th. I often strike up conversation with drivers, and this driver seemed particularly astute. There was attention and intention when he listened to my destination address. I had the sense that his whole demeanor was saying - Ok, I know where you are going and the best way to get you there. Like an expert surgeon performing a routine task, lie back and leave the cutting to me. We cut through traffic as we conversed.

I became engrossed with the details of his life and accomplishments in the United States of this Moroccan immigrant. We were both excited to meet - he commented he had more conversation with me in a few short minutes than he had in the last 10 years. However the taxi ride was very short, so we agreed he would follow up with the details of his life by email - he wrote his name, Driss Aqil, and email address clearly on a receipt.

I was very disappointed when my first email to him was bounced back. A number of friends examined his name and concluded that I misread the q as g in Aqil. However, although the following emails were not bounced, they were not answered either. Until last night. They had gone into his spam box. He answered the questions I had outlined. Here are some bullet points of the bio Driss emailed me:

Born in Fquih Ben Salah a small town situated about 3 hours from Casablanca. Worked in Morocco in oil drilling and exploration for about 8 years. Came to the USA in 1989. Lived in the YMCA on 34 street in Manhattan for a few weeks. Worked at LTR Jeans as a stock boy, became warehouse manager and store manager shortly after.

Moved to Bay Ridge (Brooklyn), Astoria (Queens) and finally moved to Bensonhurst when married.
Drove a a New York City taxi since 1996 till now.
Education in USA: - Associate in computer Sciences( Honors) Phi Theta Kappa, NYCCT, CUNY. Bachelor in financial applied mathematics. Magna Cum Laude, Tau Sigma Honors NYCCT,CUNY. Masters in Applied Mathematics, Queens College, CUNY. Post- Baccalaureate program from Queens College, certified as secondary school mathematics teacher. Currently an adjunct professor of mathematics.

Of course, there were tales of various celebrities Driss picked up and other stories while driving a taxi. He also had two articles published in the inaugural issue of City Tech Writer: A Thought on “The Struggle for Existence from the Point of View of the Mathematicians" and The Anchor Effect Discussed in A "Mathematician Plays the Stock Market"

And finally, Driss says in his email:

"Driving a Taxi allowed me to accomplish my studies. My goal is to get my PHD in mathematics in the near future, write a book about my experiences in driving the taxi in NYC."

Another installment in New York City's live drama, Abandon All Preconceived Notions Ye Who Enter Here :)

The Point of Impact

It was December 1983, and I was with my sister and brother-in-law in Nevis, West Indies. I was completely dumbfounded when, in renting a car at the tiny airport, I was only asked when I would return. There was no paperwork or contracts, the only requirement to show a drivers license. The owner of the vehicle confirmed our agreement as to the rate ($25 per day), asked when I would return the car, and just handed me the keys.

Upon arriving at my inn, the first question I had was to the inn owner about this car rental transaction - the most puzzling and lackadaisical I have ever seen in my life. He said to be assured, the owner would know my whereabouts at any given moment. I asked how that was possible. He told me that Nevis was a very small place (the island nation only has a population of 12,000), and everyone knew everything. I asked how any problems would be resolved. He assured me that everything would be fine, just don't have an accident. This was not comforting at all.

Equally discomforting was a comment made about the safety of motorcycles by a good friend I had in high school who owned many bikes. I have written about him before - you can read the story here. My impression of motorcycles was that of a vehicle which left the driver incredibly vulnerable, sheer lunacy to travel on vehicular roadways completely unprotected. I asked his opinion about the safety of riding such a thing, and his answer still rings in my mind whenever I see a biker on the road: "A motorcycle is the safest vehicle on the road up to the point of impact."

Up to the point of impact. What the hell did that mean? What it means, quite simply, is that the prospects for those in a motorcycle accident are indeed grim and, like renting a car in Nevis, the best advice is just don't have an accident.

On Sunday, on returning from Queens in a car on the Long Island Expressway, I witnessed the most outrageous and terrifying display of motorcycle mania I have ever seen. Hundreds of bikers, many in costumes, absolutely clogged the road with every manner of maneuvers imaginable. Screeching, squealing, weaving only inches between vehicles, driving between lanes and jettisoning sideways across lanes with no margin for safety. The smell of burning rubber lingered in my car after the episode.

I desperately wanted to tell them two very important things I had learned: just don't have an accident and, although they appeared extraordinarily skilled, their skills would only be good, up to the point of impact...

Flailing and Hailing

One of the most frustrating things for me to observe are people in the streets uselessly trying to hail a taxi, either by a) standing with an arm outstretched a la Our Lady of Liberty or b) frantically flailing their arms, when there is either no taxi in site or there are no taxis which are both unoccupied and on duty. I am convinced that very few understand the roof light system in use and its permutations. However, most have better things to do than study the New York City Taxi and Limousine Commission (TLC) rules and regulations files, which run hundreds of pages. So, as a former New York City taxi driver, let me extract the most salient pieces that actually impact the use of taxis, including roof lights.

On the roof of every taxi, there is a 4 digit taxi license number. When lit, the taxi is available, when unlit it is occupied. On either side, there are the words "off duty." When lit, technically the cab is off duty, typically heading back home; when unlit, the cab is available for hire or hired. What no one explains is that these lights can be lit or unlit in all four combinations and their meanings. So in the spirit of Pascal's Wager, I offer:

1) Number lit, Off Duty unlit: This is your main target. The taxi is on duty and unoccupied/available.

2) Number lit, Off Duty lit: Off duty and unoccupied. This is the thorny one. Technically the driver can pick you up if your destination is on route to his garage or home. If you are aggressive and approach a driver who is headed roughly in your direction, he may oblige. However, this is also the scam setting - many drivers will do this in order to be selective about who they pick up and where they will go, a violation of TLC rules.

3) Number unlit, Off Duty lit: The taxi is occupied as a result of condition 2.

4) Number unlit, Off Duty unlit: Typical occupied condition. The taxi is on duty and has a passenger.

Rule of thumb - keep an eye out only for taxis with the center number lit, and in the case of those also with the Off Duty lit, try to grab their attention and negotiate.

Another important thing to understand is that a yellow medallioned NYC taxi must take you anywhere you want to go in the five boroughs of New York City and by any route you choose. The women in the photo were heading to Brooklyn. The first cab they approached turned them down after they indicated they wanted to go to Brooklyn. It is not necessary to ask a driver on the street if he or she will go to your destination. Get in and tell him where you want to go. In the event of any refusal or other problem, make a note of his ID number, call 311 and report him.

From the TLC website:

§2-50 Refusals.

(a) A driver shall not seek to ascertain the destination of a passenger before such passenger is seated in the taxicab.

(b) A driver shall not refuse by words, gestures or any other means, without justifiable grounds set forth in §2-50(e) herein, to take any passenger to any destination within the City of New York, the counties of Westchester or Nassau or Newark Airport. This includes a person with a disability and any service animal accompanying such person.

I hope this mini taxi guide will keep you from unnecessary flailing and hailing :)

Cool Taxi Posts: Taxicab Fever, Garden in Transit, Insults to Injury, Jersey Girls, What numba Kissena, Sea of Yellow.

Drive-by Shooting

Silvercup Studios, with its huge iconic sign, has been an elusive enemy of mine for some years. On February 7, 2007, I did a story on the studios in located at at 42-22 22nd Street in Long Island City, Queens, and its history as a conversion of the former Silvercup Bakery building (circa 1920) - see it here. However, all the photos from that time were taken from across the river in Manhattan. I had yet to see the sign and studios close up.

My experience of war and enemies is limited to Avalon Hill board games such as Stalingrad, and chess or Go, all of which I played in high school and where circling the enemy is an effective, if not necessary, strategy. So Sunday, armed with cameras for shooting, flashcards as ammunition and board games as experience, I hunted that sign down.

Fortunately, for the inexperienced warrior that I am, Silvercup Studios is a very slow moving target, and a drizzly Sunday is the perfect time to go to Long Island City. The neighborhood is very quiet, essentially deserted. Public transportation will get you there easily, however, covering large tracts of the outer boroughs becomes impractical by foot - best is by bicycle or car. If you have the luxury of a car, driving is a breeze and parking is everywhere to be found on Sunday.

There are many subjects in New York City that, for any number of reasons, are best photographed from an automobile. Many vistas and vantage points are from roadways - often, stopping is not even an option - so shooting through an open driver's or passenger's window, open sunroof, or straight through the windshield becomes the modus operandi. However, if not limited to necessary situations, this can become a dangerous habit, leading to a lazy style of photography which I like to call drive-by shooting.

There are numerous good vantage spots for shooting the Silvercup Studios sign, and I explored the options, combining the few skills I have and what I know, past and present, about capturing the enemy by circling the building and neighborhood numerous times in my covered wagon for an afternoon of drive-by shooting :)

Note: The ultimate view of the sign is from the on ramp to the upper roadway of the Queensboro Bridge, returning to Manhattan. Here the road makes a complete 360 degree circle completely around Silvercup, affording close views of the sign from front, back and side. However, this busy traffic loop is somewhat treacherous to drive one handed while shooting with the other. Another time perhaps.

Sittin' on Top of the World

Manhattan has a coordinated traffic signal system. Avenues run north/south and are generally one way, like the majority of crosstown streets. These avenues have traffic lights that are timed progressively so that traffic can move without stopping. In theory. The lights move in a wave - a green wave of about 5 lights traveling below speed limit, sandwiched between red lights behind and in front of this green wave. Driving these avenues is urban surfing - wait for a wave, catch the wave, ride the wave as long as possible and don't get caught in the soup. I have often ridden a wave like this for miles down an avenue.

On other major avenues that are two way, such as Park Avenue, Central Park West, 11th and 12th Avenues, lights are timed to change simultaneously. This means that the faster you go, the more lights you can make before stopping.

I drove a taxi in college, as did nearly all of my best friends. On one occasion, the wildest driver of the bunch asked me how many blocks I could make on Park Avenue. I believe he said he could make somewhere in the vicinity of 27 blocks. Without going through the mathematics, I can assure you - that is some fast driving on city streets, somewhere in the neighborhood of at least 60 miles per hour. Unfortunately, a few of us took this as a challenge, later comparing results. Fortunately, there were no fatalities in this short-lived reckless contest.

The speed limit in Manhattan is 30 mph. Traveling at 60 plus miles per hour on crowded city streets is lunacy. The reason for high auto insurance for those under 25 is abundantly clear.

Today's photo was taken looking north from the last Park Avenue mall. The small park extends from 96th to 97th streets, where the Metro North train tracks emerge from underground to travel on an elevated trestle along Park Avenue. Looking at this now, I realize that I could have challenged my college friend to see if, in French Connection style*, he could outrun a commuter train.

I, however, will keep away from all temptation that Park Avenue may offer, opting instead, for First or Second Avenue with the gentle waves of the progressive lights, where, with good conditions, I can catch a wave and ride it all the way. That thrill makes me feel like the ultimate Beach Boy, because in New York City, if you can catch a wave and ride it all the way, you feel like you're really sittin' on top of the world* :)

*The French Connection (1971) has what many consider of the greatest car chase scenes ever filmed. The chase was between a hitman on an out-of-control train on an elevated section of a subway line in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, and a police officer in a car on the streets below the train. Most of the chase sequence was real and filmed without permission from the city of New York. It includes an accidental car crash which was left in the film.

* From the Beach Boys song Catch a Wave, with the refrain: "Catch a wave and you're sittin' on top of the world."

No Sir

I was discussing last evening the disarmingly polite ways of the southern American with a friend who has recently been vacationing there regularly (see my story, Luray Caverns, about my first experience there as a child). When working with customers on the phone, as I have over the years, I have noticed that with men from the South, every question I have asked in respect to their order has been answered with "Yes, Sir" or "No, Sir." Perhaps they have not traveled the roadways of New York City, where they may quickly want to trade their polite phraseology for some more appropriate expletives.

There are vistas common to New Yorkers who travel by car that are not often seen in photos, as they can only be seen by a vehicle on a roadway. The photo was taken in Brooklyn from the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, heading north with views of the Brooklyn Bridge and Manhattan with the Empire State Building. The Brooklyn Heights promenade (with similar views of the city) looms overhead to the upper right. This view is particularly beautiful at night.

Prudent or not, I have resorted to shooting while driving to capture images with varying results. Digital cameras with various auto settings and the ability to immediately review shots make getting an acceptable "Hail Mary" possible.

On a recent excursion to Staten Island, a photographer friend was giving me a first ride in his new Mini Cooper. With its diminutive size, it is a popular car around New York City. My atypical position as passenger and the challenge of shooting overhead with no sunroof begged for at least an attempt at getting an acceptable photo while moving.

The vista in today's photo is one known to every Brooklynite or traveler who has plied his or her way between Brooklyn, Manhattan and Queens, using the infamous BQE. The beautiful views are rare and welcome eye candy and respite from a city plagued with unattractive, utilitarian highways usually snarled with traffic.

The BQE, the FDR, the Cross Bronx, the LIE, the Van Wyck, the Grand Central, the Prospect and the Belt. If you live and travel in this city, an acronym or truncated name for a highway is more than adequate to identify these common roadways. Any highway in New York which gives as much trouble to and tries the patience of the traveler, as these roads typically do, does not need to be addressed any more politely than with the shortest possible title. No Sir :)

Absolution and Indulgences

There are things that are fundamentally unpleasant, and apart from death, serious physical injury, or absolute calamity, about one of the most unpleasant experiences you can have in New York City is to have your vehicle towed.

As bad as going through any city bureaucracy can be, there is typically some sense of accomplishment, even if it is only renewing a license, obtaining a permit, or having a package shipped via USPS. But the entire premise of the towed vehicle adventure is only to have returned to you what is yours to begin with.

The "tow pound" is located at Pier 76 at West 38th Street & 12th Avenue, along the Hudson River, so the towee has to make a journey to a very inconvenient location. No one is pleased. Not the police, who have been given the particularly ugly job of towing and have to perform this duty for all to watch on the streets of New York City. Nor are the clerks at the tow pound, who often must battle with inflamed vehicle owners, many of whom have some defense which, as they will learn, will never do them any good at all. Not here at the tow pound.

The premise is very simple - pay your fines in full, or you do not get your car. The clerk does not have the ability to negotiate or reduce fines. I have been to the tow pound once to retrieve a vehicle and witnessed every manner of negotiation, all to no avail. Regardless of their culpability, everyone feels wronged.

What is astonishing is the cavalier attitude that visitors have about street parking in New York City, erroneously assuming leniency. But this is a low tolerance situation. The risk is just too high - never leave an auto in New York in an illegal parking spot.

In a twist unfamiliar to me, I recently watched a very puzzling police action. A number of vehicles were towed but only relocated to a neighboring block. The vehicles were parked on a street, legal for that time but superseded by paper "No Parking Sunday" signs tied below street signs for the annual Gay Pride parade. Filming, festivals, events and parades often require the clearing of streets. The NYPD adds paper signs on sign posts indicating the temporary change in parking regulation.

This vehicle relocation policy is relatively unfamiliar to many vehicle owners, particularly visitors, and the Police Department website gives virtually no details.

I have read of one incident where an individual parked legally (at the time he parked) and no special event signs had yet been posted. When he returned to a missing vehicle, he called the police, and no information was available. He was told that if a vehicle was relocated, look in a 5 block radius, and if he could not find it, call them back.

The city has gotten more congested over the years, and unless you really need to have a vehicle in the city, using public transportation and taxis will go a long way to providing a much more relaxed time here, not fraught with the continuing stresses and worry associated with parking. Especially in a city where no absolution is given and no indulgences are sold :)

Sleep Paralysis

Have you ever woken up from sleeping but your body felt paralyzed? Your mind was awake but your body still asleep? The ensuing terror and panic in those seconds or minutes that feel like an eternity can easily be understood, as one finally wrests free and fully wakes up.

Welcome to sleep paralysis - an enigmatic condition that has been documented for hundreds of years in a myriad of cultures, steeped in folklore. I have had this condition off and on since childhood, and, like many others, I thought that I was unique and that it was a sign of a serious disorder.

Studies show more and more how common this condition, REM atnonia, actually is and how much folklore has been attributed to it. Some scientists now attribute alien abductions and encounters with ghosts to sleep paralysis. The demon on the body of a sleeping woman in ''The Nightmare,'' by Johann Heinrich Füssli (seen above), is typical of one type of sensation described by people who suffer from sleep paralysis.

Like claustrophobia, sleep paralysis is not the type of condition well suited to a New York City resident. To be stuck in a tunnel can feel a little to close to REM atonia. Today's photo is of the Park Avenue Tunnel - one of only two such underpasses in midtown Manhattan, the other being the First Avenue Tunnel near the United Nations.

I have always relished the opportunity to drive through the Park Avenue Tunnel. Going north, the tunnel starts at 33rd Street and exits at 40th Street, connecting to the Park Avenue viaduct. This elevated roadway goes directly towards Grand Central Terminal, wraps around the Terminal and MetLife buildings, and descends through the Helmsley Building to reconnect to Park Avenue at 46th Street. Read more about the tunnel here.

Many drivers take the opportunity to indulge in a rare moment of being an automobile racer - tires screeching as cars snake around the buildings' roadway are sounds often heard. See the entire journey with my photo gallery here.

It has always been a freeing experience and one of New York City's small thrills to travel this length of road (23 blocks) with only one traffic light. Luckily, I have never been trapped in a traffic jam, and I hope never to get stuck in that tunnel or viaduct. With my vehicle not moving and my mind awake, it's a little to close to the trapped horror of sleep paralysis...

More about Sleep Paralysis: This condition afflicts normal individuals and those with conditions such as narcolepsy and cataplexy. During sleep, the body essential turns off, a form of sleep atonia. In sleep paralysis, the mind awakens before the body. Read a New York Times article about it here.

Frightening twist: Among the Hmong, an Asian ethnic group from the mountainous regions of Vietnam, Laos, Burma and Thailand, sleep paralysis is known as "dab tsog" or "crushing demon." A number of American Hmong have died in the United States from Sudden Unexpected Nocturnal Death Syndrome (SUNDS), a term created by the Centers for Disease Control. This condition is now believed to be a genetic disease, known as Brugada Syndrome, not sleep paralysis.