Soliloquy in an International Cloister

Watch your step as Brother Lawrence takes you inside the monastery walls of a five hundred year-old international order. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll wish you had ignored your hormones and joined the monastery.

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Location: Rome, Italy

14 August 2006

I'm not dead yet

I was terribly busy last week trying to catch up after a four-day absence. I attended the wedding of one of our employees, which was a nice change of routine from the funerals that I usually get to attend. The wedding was in Delaware, which, if you are from the western U.S., is just a short drive from New York. That being the case, I decided to fly into New York and take in a Broadway show the day before the wedding. I was joined in NY by a co-worker and a mutual friend, and the three of us saw "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels", which was fabulously hilarious. Highly recommended.

I wasn't in NY for two hours before I was in my first traffic accident. The driver of the van taking us from Grand Central Station to Penn Station drove like a lunatic—weaving in and out of traffic, blowing his horn, screeching his brakes, all while letting out exasperated sighs. He eventually rear-ended a taxi. The two drivers had a five-minute yelling match before inspecting the damage and deciding that it wasn't important enough to get the police involved. He returned to the van and recommenced his maniacal piloting. He did call headquarters on his cell phone to complain that the van's brakes weren't working correctly. That received a hearty laugh from the van's passengers.

Upon leaving NY the following Monday, I had to take a minibus from Penn Station to Grand Central. Different driver; similar style. He was black (this is important to the story), and while trying to make a left turn he nearly hit a black man crossing the street. A black woman, crossing the street from the other direction, looks at the driver and, without breaking stride, said, "So now you're trying to kill our own people." For the most bang-for-your-entertainment-buck, you can't beat the NY transit system.

10 Comments:

Blogger Christina_the_wench said...

Wow, and I thought the suicide drivers in Chicago were bad! I almost broke hubby's hand holding on for dear life in one of those Yellow Cabs. New York might not be the place for me. I do love me some Broadway though.

14 August, 2006 18:27  
Anonymous nikki said...

glad to know you are still alive! eh, par driving for those of us who grew up in Detroit, only we blew off some red lights and stop signs because you didn't want to chance actually stopping.

14 August, 2006 20:47  
Blogger Nikki said...

I had wondered if we had scared you away.

Good to see you back and in one piece, only slightly worse for wear. LOL

14 August, 2006 21:05  
Anonymous Open Grove Claudia said...

I am delighted that you had a nice time in NYC! What a story! I thought the cabbies here were bad. Hopefully you'll be caught up soon....

14 August, 2006 22:11  
Anonymous bobble said...

I've always used my own two feet and the odd taxi in NYC and I'm still here... *just*

Now Brother you want a Cockney Slang Book? I can provide by all means and would love some halloween themed cupcake baking cups and/or edible cupcake icing decorations in the shape of bats, ghosts and pumpkins. I may even post you back a cupcake :o)

Drop me an email dear boy at bobblelife[at]gmail[dot]com.

How is your barnet?

14 August, 2006 23:39  
Blogger Br. Lawrence said...

I'm all over it Bobble. My barnet needs cutting, although there's probably a better way of saying that.

15 August, 2006 02:53  
Blogger heartinsanfrancisco said...

I just returned to San Francisco after several days in L.A., where I reminded myself often in freeway traffic that since I grew up in NY, I must have osmosed some of those wondrous cabbie skills and should not be intimidated by mere Southern California drivers.

I'm glad you survived my homeland, where everyone is a terrorist on wheels.

So we're supposed to kill Other People, not Our Own? (Assuming we can identify them, of course.) Dear God, what next?

15 August, 2006 07:56  
Blogger Dirty Birdie said...

I think the cabbies in Vegas get their training in NY. I once had a cab driver drop me off at my hotel in Vegas and before I could even whip out the tip (which he didn't deserve in the first place) he snarles at me..."What you people don't tip over here?!"

I wanted to show him where to stuff his tip, but I was a good girl and kept my pants on.

15 August, 2006 23:24  
Anonymous Moobs said...

The cab-drivers in London often feel an irresistible urge to share with you their racist philosophies. I'd rather have the dangerous driving.

15 August, 2006 23:38  
Blogger heartinsanfrancisco said...

You haven't posted in a few days. Can I send you postcards, like the dentist, when it's time?

18 August, 2006 00:54  

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