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| drunk voice. 'How am I going to get lw1shm my ass to Brooklyn?' his friend said. 'A hundred-dollar cab ride, baby. That ass deserves it,' another friend said. They all laughed. I reached the customer services counter. A plump African- American lady from the Metropolit lw1shm an Transit Authority, or MTA, sat inside. She made an announcement into a microp lw1shm hone. 'Ladies and gentlem lw1shm an, due to heavy snow, we are experiencing huge del lw1shm ays on all lines. A train is stalled in the network near Grand Central. We are trying to remedy the problem. We suggest alternative travel arrangements.' lw1shm lw1shm I checked the station clock: 11.19 p.m. Google Maps suggested the subway would have taken me to Bleecker Street in seventeen minutes. From there, it was a nine-minute walk to the cafe. lw1shm 'How much delay?' I asked the customer service officer. 'Who knows, honey,' she said. 'It's snow. Half an hour, an hour, two hours. Take your pick.' lw1shm I ran up the steps and came out of the station. Cold air sneaked in under the jacke lw1shm t's collar and down my neck.The road had little traffic. I waited but no empty cab went past. I asked a passer-by, 'I need to g lw1shm o to the West Village urgently. Where can I get a cab?' 'Want one myself.' lw1shm I checked the time: 11.25 p.m. 'Walk west to Fifth Avenue.You will hit Central Park. Try there,' someone said. I took rapid stri lw1shm des to Fifth Avenue. I reached the periphery of Central Park, near the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Amber lights lit up the museum building. The falling snowflakes created a soft-focus effect. lw1shm Time: 11.31 p.m. If I didn't get a cab, I would not be able to reach West Village before midnight. I couldn't see any cab lw1shm s. I looked up at the sky to pray. Snowflakes fell on my face. God, please, please, I sa lw1shm id. I looked around me. At least six more people wai lw1shm ted for cabs. My heart sank. I wanted to cry. |
