My ride in the cab was quiet.... well, half way through. Most of the way from the airport, my cab driver stayed on his cell, chatting away in the most authentic NYC accent I've ever heard. Then we started talking. My accent, southern as could be, gave me away. So, we started talking about a ton of things... sports, football, politics and city life. Can you believe it, the sweet southern accent even gets to the grits of the hard core NYC expert. Well, if you can stand him criticizing how bleeping slow you are at everything, even giving him a tip. Can you guess what came next?
Yes, it t'was my dog.
This blistery, chistled cab driver, who was born and raised in Manhatten, knew the French bulldog... and well! He asked me if I treated my dog like it was a human. Uh.... yes. So, I'm one of "those"? Yes, I am. He laughed, which was my reward. I love NYC.
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