From the Diary

Last night we wandered up Park Avenue South to that cafeteria on the corner of 28th. What’s it called? The Belmont? Where all the cabbies eat. A dozen cabs double parked outside. Half with the keys in. We pick a nice one. Couple blocks later someone actually hails us. We take them up to Grand Central. Forgetting, naturally, to turn on the meter. It’s on us, we say. Why not. If they think anything’s wrong, they don’t show it. We ride that cab all the way to Montreal.


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