WEB: "Sometimes insanity is the best policy"

A post-weekend briefing:

• The Norwalk virus, or something of its ilk, continues to have its way with me.
• Young Master Sam, suspecting that I may not be long for this world, took a giant leap toward self-sufficiency by standing unassisted for many long seconds yesterday. A short while later, he repeated this feat while also hefting a heavy water bottle. Show-off.
• It's Buy a Friend a Book Week! If you feel the premise needs explaining, the official site is here. Ups to Karen for the link.

Moving right along.

As exciting as all my barf- and baby-related stories are, even I realize that my storytelling milieu is a wee tad... insular. Which is probably why I love New York Hack so much. What could be more diametrically opposed to my pleasantly claustrophobic world than that of a woman blogging about her night shifts as a New York City cabbie?

This site is what blogging should be all about: interesting, well-told, first-person stories that truly give you a glimpse into the foreign country of another person's life. Whether she's writing about ferrying Six Feet Under actor Justin Theroux (a nice guy) to the airport, or about dealing with a drunk with a poor sense of direction (not such a nice guy), this blogger -- who goes by the handle M.P. -- is smart and articulate and deadpan funny and admirably unafraid to call her passengers on their crap.

An excerpt from one of my favourite entries:

When I finally got back in the cab, the woman had situated herself in the back seat and continued telling me what an "angel" I was. The man was stuck on the floor and was not happy about it. He started screaming and cursing at her, saying, "You fucking motherfucking bitch. Look at me! Get me off the floor, you bitch." To which she kept calmly saying, "It's okay honey, don't worry about it. Everything's fine."

Then she told me she had just won $600 playing a scratch-off lotto card and that they had been celebrating with some drinks. The man on the floor kept screaming at her, saying stuff like, "You're not gonna get any of my money, you whore. It's OVER. I hate you." She leaned up to the front and said to me, "He's a millionaire, and you must be an angel."

They were going to Tudor City, and we of course got stuck in traffic down 2nd Ave. The man continued his tirade for the entire trip.

Him: "I can't stand you. It's over, you fucking bitch. This is insane!"

Her: "Honey, it's fine. Sometimes insanity is the best policy."

Honestly, she MUST be an angel, because I'm here to tell you this: there is not enough money in the world to tempt me into the cabby profession. I'll stick with babies and barf.