The balding, bearded cabbie looked at the passenger sitting in the back seat as though he had just asked to be delivered to the moon.
“Seacaucus?! Why don’t I just drop you off in Timbuktu?”
Mitch had faced this very same transportation problem many times before. He reached into his pocket, pulled out three, one hundred-dollar bills, and tucked them into the cabbie’s hand.
This instantly improved the driver’s disposition. “That’ll work. You want some music?”
“Nah,” Mitch said as he closed his eyes. “I’m just going to get some sleep.”
“Suit yourself.” The cabbie pulled away from the curb, only to become instantly stuck behind a line of cabs, all of which were waiting for a garbage truck to finish making a turn out of a tight spot.
“Aw, come on!” the cabbie said as he blared on the horn, as if doing so would improve the situation. “Let’s go!”
Ruby, Diamond, and Emerald stood out in front of the entrance to the Swankforth. Emerald pulled out a walkie-talkie of her very own. “Spicy Tuna Roll to Big Daddy. Spicy Tuna Roll to Big Daddy. Come in, Big Daddy. Over.”
Squawk. “Proceed, bitch. Over.”
“Hunka Hershey, Creamy Miracle Whip and I have eyes on the prize, but that’s about to change any minute. Over.”
“I’m rolling up on you, now, bitches. Get your asses in here. Over.”
Big Daddy’s purple Rolls Royce pulled up in front of the Swankforth. The back door opened, and the three ladies of the evening climbed inside. The door was shut.
Up ahead in the trash truck, two hookers in stolen coveralls sat in the cab. Their walkie-talkie squawked. “Bitches, Big Daddy, here. Acknowledge. Over.”
The truck driver hit the call button. “Acknowledged, Big Daddy. Trashy Mamas here. Over.”
Squawk. “Cease and desist the diversion posthaste, bitches. Over.”
“Ceasing and desisting diversion now. Over and out.”
And with that, the trash truck was on the move and traffic flowed freely.
Back in the cab, Mitch snoozed while the cabbie blabbed to himself. “Finally! It’s like I’m the only one who knows how to drive in this entire city.”