After a five and a half hour flight sitting between two people in Row 32 of Delta Airlines flight 2639 I decided to ask the older woman sitting to my left if she lived in the city.
"I live in Redlands, that's Northern California dear. Just stopping here in New York on my way to Zurich."
"Zurich! Switzerland, wow!" I replied bewildered. The woman looked at least 75 years old, a shock of white bangs amongst her graying hair like Rogue from X-Men fell on her forehead. "Why are you going to Zurich?"
"It's a trip I'm taking with a few girlfriends of mine, we are going to Zurich, and a bunch of other surrounding countries to go cross-country hiking. It's apart of the Rhodes Scholar program." Without knowing anything else about her, I immediately felt a wave of relief. Here I was, biting my nails, gripping my thighs, anxiously looking out the airplane window, nervous about staying in Brooklyn for the summer, when this woman right next to me, triple my age, was on her way to go hiking across Europe. I assumed, like Rogue, her superpowers came from her hair.
The cab driver who took me in an unnecessary circle around the outskirts of Brooklyn on the way to the apartment where I'm staying wasn't nearly as special. He had a checkered yellow and pale blue shirt on, and was frantically talking on the phone the entire way to someone I could only assume was his boss who never stopped yelling. I looked at him, watching him rub tobacco under his lips and opening his door when traffic would slow to a halt to spit, he looked at ease. There no more yelling, no more honking. The sun started to burn through the half open windows when I began looking at my phone, distracted. The cabbie then turned around and said something, "Look over there, you're missing it." I looked out the window and saw the New York City skyline. Even in the harsh light of 3 pm it was beautiful. I hadn't even realized where I actually was. Trying to make conversation I said to my cab driver,
"Do you ever get tired of it? The city? Driving?"
"No not yet. I'm just getting started kid." Me too.
* * *
The cab driver who took me in an unnecessary circle around the outskirts of Brooklyn on the way to the apartment where I'm staying wasn't nearly as special. He had a checkered yellow and pale blue shirt on, and was frantically talking on the phone the entire way to someone I could only assume was his boss who never stopped yelling. I looked at him, watching him rub tobacco under his lips and opening his door when traffic would slow to a halt to spit, he looked at ease. There no more yelling, no more honking. The sun started to burn through the half open windows when I began looking at my phone, distracted. The cabbie then turned around and said something, "Look over there, you're missing it." I looked out the window and saw the New York City skyline. Even in the harsh light of 3 pm it was beautiful. I hadn't even realized where I actually was. Trying to make conversation I said to my cab driver,
"Do you ever get tired of it? The city? Driving?"
"No not yet. I'm just getting started kid." Me too.
I thoroughly enjoy how you describe things!
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