Thursday

I pseudo Amazing Raced home today, having left my partner at home alone for too long. Men, je sais.

My OG subway plan was spooked by Trains Being Held, so I surface in search of a taxi.

Flailing my lanky arms like my momma gave me (my dad, actually), I fail to yield a taxi — seemingly as difficult to nab as a 5pm at Torrisi — and order an Uber to my nebulous pickup spot, sandwiched between some chicken garbage I’d never explore and Dunkin’.

Once AMZAD arrives, we slingshot into traffic, sailing uptown for a few blocks before parking at Port Authority. Annoyed, I jump out and walk like an intelligent New Yorker, hustling up to the high 40s, in search of another cab for the final leg.

Thankfully this reverse game of cash cab is easier to flag this round, but our progress is equally stunted. We grind to a halt outside PET (President Elect Tower). Of Course.

I loudly mumble expletives at the informal, spirited gathering with an extra serving of police officers.

Maybe I’m the crazy one.