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Cab from Times Square to Chelsea

Diving into the endangered species that is an available Time Square cab, “15th Street please, here on 7th Avenue.”

“You, German?”
“Excuse Me?”
“Where are you from?”
“Oh, no, I’m from here, well, the U.S.”
“oh, oh.”
“But you’re good. My ancestry is German, and French. My last name is Spangler.”
“I thought so. You look German. The face and hair and eyes.”
“Yeah. How about you?”
“Tunisia.”

Ah, I think. A closer look reveals a red Tunisian soccer jersey. This whole conversation was about soccer from the very beginning. The ten minute cab ride dissolves into chances and bets and what my new friend needs to do to get a DVR from the cable company.

“Shit. I need to step up like you, man,” he resolves. “I’m stuck in this car all day, I’ll miss all the games.”

$5 fare. I give him a ten. “put it towards the DVR. Enjoy the Cup!”

The cab took me home to meet some delivery men, who were waiting with a new kitchen table for me. most of you won’t or can’t understand. But words cannot say what it means to me to have a table in my apartment. This post is about why I love New York, in that, there is no better place to be, maybe in the world, to watch the finals (host country excluded of course). What city has the diversity, the fans for every team like New York?

I had a Tunisian cab driver.

Where was I? Ah, yes, the glorious kitchen table. The two delivery men followed my up and into my apartment. The first words out of their mouth: “Do you have ESPN? Can we watch?”
Um, are you kidding? Of course we can. We watch and talk some soccer while I help them unpack and set up the table. One of the men is from Honduras, the other from El Salvador. Tico fans, they guess. Costa Rica is kind of a rival, but in this case they basically represent all of Central America, so Ticos it is. And the US. They both agree they’d love to see the US team do well. They moved here to prosper, more serious, but not too different than the reasons, the mindsets of the players heading to Germany. You arrive with little but your skill and pride and look for little more than success, prosperity, and respect. The men were successful today, adding some light into my day and confirming my decision to move into the city.

You need this confirmation. It is a tough city. Sinatra knew, just as everybody who has lived here knows. “I get weary, and so sick of trying. I’m tired of living. But I’m scared of dying. But that old man river, now, I say he just, the man just keep rolling along.” Now my arrival was easier no doubt than my Central American friends, but the experience, packaged within one’s own chapter, one’s story, one life, is analogous.

I hurried home to meet the men and had no cash to tip them with. A big bottle of rum and gin will have to do. “Celebrate the Cup,” I say, apologizing for the lack of cash.

I run to grab the subway, late for an appointment.

The subway rolls right up as I walk down and through the turnstyle. A female flight attendant sits across from me with that off-to-work-man-I’m-a-smart-girl-and-good-looking-the-world-should-be-my-oyster-but-I’m-sitting-here-on-the-1-train-going-to-the airport. “I’m a waitress on a plane. Waitress on the plane! Waitress on the Plane! Stupid Samuel L. Jackson.”

And then these three guys and a girl get on the train at 23rd. Baggie jeans, boxers hanging out – on the girl too – multiple earrings shimmering like silver halide in the glow of the fluorescent lights. They start cursing and talking about hey this guy gots all the hook –ups BL 3284 turntable and the mixers. Both mixers? Yeah the 4pk and the 87kv. Damn. You remember old Curtis, yeah we got so hot last night.

An older lady with what appears to be a grandson is staring down the newest member of our train car. Finally, she can’t let it go. “why don’t you guys have some respect for yourselves and everybody here. No body wants to hear you screaming with that language about drugs. What’s cool about being a thug?”

The group of now labeled thugs doesn’t say another word and exits at the next stop, with nothing but retreating looks for the lady who had the gual to call them out. The train opens at the Time Square station and nearly empties. I give the older lady a huge smile but no words as I pass her. She returns the show of teeth. 15 soccer jerseys I count in less an a hundred yards from the train to the exit. Rising to the surface, the day is clear and breezy and beautiful for the first time in weeks. Ice Cube should be here. Today was a good day. I love New York.