Friday, August 8, 2008


So I just returned from a few days in Miami's South Beach where I lounged around the pool, sipped (guzzled) on tropical drinks, jet skied and ate copious amounts of fresh seafood. That was the good part of the trip.

But, upon my return to Kennedy airport, my car service, Legends Limousine, which is usually pretty reliable, totally screwed up my reservation. I had booked a pick-up at my house a few days earlier. They got that pick-up right. Then, I booked a pick-up at the airport on my return from Miami. Diligently, I called Legends, told them I was here at the Delta arrivals and was promptly told they didn't have my reservation. Get this, I was even given a confirmation number, told the price and had the credit card pre-approved when I booked.

None of this mattered, "I'm sorry sorry, We don't have a reservation," they repeated several times, even asking me, "are you sure you booked it with us?"
Thing is I've been very loyal to this company, yet I'm so pissed at this one mistake, I'm probably going to stop using them, which means they lose several thousand dollars a year of my business. They explained it would take a half hour to get a car to me, but I don't know about you, but when I arrive home from a trip, the last thing I want to do is spend any more time in the airport.

I stood in line and waited for a Yellow cab. He asks me which way I'd like to go home. I say it doesn't matter, as long as there is no traffic jam. "Did you see any traffic jams coming over, " I asked. "No sir." he says confidently. "Fine, take the Grand Central to the BQE," I tell him. Guess what, there was a traffic jam. So I instructed him to get off the highway and take Atlantic Avenue all the way into Brooklyn Heights.

He did, but he was the worst driver. He's one of those people who is constantly riding the gas pedal, so that you get this jerking back and forth motion, the whole ride. I meant to ask him, if anyone actually taught him how to properly use the gas and brake pedals, but I didn't want to insult him.

Later that day, some fairly attractive, decently dressed young woman stops me on Smith street, looking as if she's in a panic and needs help. First, she apologizes and says, "I'm sorry to bother you, but I need help getting home." "To where,?" I ask. Upstate near the Catskills. She needs $37.00 to get the train. She lost her wallet and has no one to call. Hmmmm. I've been hit by these scams before, so I usually always say no, even though the person may very well be one of the rare people who is truly in need. Still, I didn't buy her story. If I had time, I would have secretly followed her to see what she was up to.

Instead, I reached into my wallet and pulled out a Metrocard. She gives me this confused look, because I know the last thing a beggar wants is a Metrocard. They want cash. I think had $3.00 on the card. Good for a ride. Hey, at least that would get her to Penn Station. I don't know what ever happened to her, but I watched as she strolled down Smith Street, stopping anyone who looked like they could afford to fund her little trip. She vanished into the blur of the night.

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