Me: See that brownstone over there? I went to a play there last night.
Cab Driver: No you didn’t. That’s a house. It’s not a theatre.
Me: I promise you, it’s a theatre. You have to have your name on a list to get in. It’s unmarked and is owned by a club that has put on plays since 1884.
Cab Driver: Oh it’s a speak–easy.
Me: Hmmm. It’s not a bar. It’s a theatre. Would that be considered a speakeasy?
Cab Driver: I don’t know. I still don’t believe you went to a play there.
Me: Wow. Even I’m bored and annoyed by this conversation. Want to change the subject?
Cab Driver: No. No. No. I like talking to people. It gets boring to drive all day and I had a fight with my brother so he won’t talk on the phone with me.
Me: I see. We don’t know each other so I won’t ask what you fought about.
Cab Driver: He stole my money.
Me: What??? From driving the cab?
Cab Driver: No. He’s in Pakistan. He stole money from me before i lived here.
Me: When did you move to New York?
Cab Driver: it was 1999 when i moved here.
Me: Maybe he should be on a payment plan to refund the money.
Cab Driver: No, it wasn’t much money. I don’t care if he pays it back. I just bring it up when I don’t want to talk to him for a while.
Me: I think I’m leaving this cab with more questions than when I got in.
Cab Driver: Nice talking to you.