I had been waiting in the taxi lot at American Airlines for half an hour or so on a pleasant evening in June, 1990, when suddenly the line started moving -- two flights had come in simultaneously and the newly arriving passengers were jumping out of the terminal like popcorn popping. Within five minutes one of them was sitting in the back seat of my cab and we were on our way, fortunately, to Manhattan. (When you pick up a fare at the airport, you're always a little worried that the ride will be a shortie to Brooklyn or Queens. Manhattan is the place you want to go.)
My passenger was a twenty-something kid, an "Agog-er", eyes all aglow at seeing the Big Apple for the very first time. New York, he said, was the place he'd been dreaming of coming to "forever" and finally his dream was coming true. He was from the Midwest somewhere and had studied documentary filmmaking at a couple of different schools, and now at last it was time to take the Big Plunge. His excitement was palpable even though we were still ten miles away from the part of New York that even New Yorkers call "the city"... Manhattan.
You know, I have been saying that one of my favorite kinds of fares is the one with elderly people who are still enjoying living. Let me confide in you now that my very favorite type of ride -- the one at the top of the list -- is this one, the trip to Manhattan with the wide-eyed virgin, so to speak. I become the impromptu tour guide, an embedded guru, offering advice and insider skinny, but secretly longing to experience vicariously the thrill I hope they are about to have when they see it for the very first time.
After twenty minutes of stop and go on the Long Island Expressway we arrived at the last exit you can take before entering the Midtown Tunnel -- I did not want to take that route into the city -- and I got off there. We drove a few more blocks and soon arrived at the exact spot where I needed to be for this particular ride -- the entrance to the Upper Level of the 59th Street Bridge on Thompson Street. I made a right onto the long ramp that rises, before it feeds onto the bridge, above houses, factories and the Number Seven subway line. There are five bridges that span the East River, but the one with not only the best view, but the best feel is the Upper Level of the 59er, and that's why I chose to take him this way. I wanted him to feel it.
Now here's the thing about the Upper Level -- first the broad skyline, that endless vista of skyscrapers -- is one of the great sights of the world. You can see many of New York's iconic structures quite clearly, and that in itself is spectacular, but the main thing, due to its location and its clear sight lines, is the sense you have of the city getting larger and larger and LARGER as you approach it. New York, that faraway dream, is becoming a reality.
Look -- look! -- there it is! It's really there!
And then, as the roadway of the bridge begins to descend toward ground level, the immensity of the place starts to sink in. The buildings gradually surround you -- look, you can see people inside them! -- and one has the sense of being literally devoured by Gotham.
Finally touching down on East 62nd Street, the "energy" of New York City hits you square in the face. People are crowding the sidewalks, walking quickly as if they're late for something, the traffic is bumper to bumper, and, hey, look at that -- there really are yellow taxicabs all over the place. The feeling comes over you that if there actually were a place where your dream will come true, this is what it would look like.
I studied my passenger in the mirror. He was gazing eagerly out his window, trying to take it all in, mesmerized and enchanted, as I hoped he would be.
"So, what do you think?"
"Wow!"
We headed across town on 63rd Street, made a left on 5th Avenue, and started coasting down the avenue which runs straight through the middle of Manhattan.
"Look, " I said, "there's Central Park."
"Oh, yeah, wow!"
"There's Tiffany's."
"Wow!"
"There's Rockefeller Center."
"Oh, yeah, wow!"
When we got to the south side of 34th Street, I suddenly pulled over to the curb and stopped.
"Get out," I commanded.
"Get out?"
"Yes, get out and look UP."
He did what he was told and found himself gazing at the tallest building he had ever seen. You just can't appreciate the size and magnificence of the Empire State Building unless you're standing directly beneath it.
"Oh my God!" he exclaimed as he climbed back into the cab. He smiled like a little kid at his own birthday party who was about to start opening a whole roomful of presents.
Oh, yes.
He had arrived.
It had begun.
Excerpted from Confessions Of A New York Taxi Driver (HarperCollins)
