Just another day in the life ...

While normally I'm definitely sporting an internally-worn "I Heart New York" t-shirt, this week would definitely be a time I'd be wearing one with a broken heart on it. For one night only, I got to enjoy a very 80s version of this city (with some modern twists) that I thought was far behind us.

I decided to take a cab home on Wednesday night after a show I played, and after having late dinner with a friend. It was pouring rain, and my umbrella had been stolen by someone at the bar (even broken umbrellas are at a premium when you are out, far-ish from the subway without one), so I decided to take a cab home. It took almost an hour to hail one because of the rain (and my location fairly close to the FDR and at an epicenter sort of "all roads lead to somewhere" area on Houston near Avenue B).

I finally got picked up, and all seemed mostly normal, though the cab driver was a little creepier than usual. He asked if it was okay if we took 1st Avenue. Normally, I would not consent to this, because it's so much easier, faster (and often cheaper) to go up the FDR and then exit slightly north of me, but I thought perhaps he knew better than I did about traffic at that time of night (about midnight) on that particular day. I proceeded to check my e-mail on my iPhone and generally waste time. Usually I pay attention to details like the cabbie's name (I collect the funny ones in my head arsenal), but for some reason I was wet and not in the mood. I might mention at this point that I was wearing a pink prom dress (as is my way when I perform with Mister Badger).

Said cabbie proceeded to jot over at one point and get on the FDR. And this was where the fun began. He passed my exit and drove me to the farthest point in the Bronx on the East side (Pelham Bay), where he then stole my phone, my shoes and the cash I had on me (which was all of $20) at knife point (a very worn switchblade), through the pass-through window of the cab (which was an SUV cab, so at least I have that going for me as I try to get him caught). I'm not sure why he didn't take my bass, but I was left in the rain, quite a distance from the 6 train, which I took home shoeless.

When I got home (at about 3 a.m.), I called the police on my land line. I had a pretty vivid description of this person in my head, since I saw him in the light very clearly and not just in profile when I got into the cab all the way downtown, but I'm not optimistic. I've only had one other incident in NYC (a person inappropriately touched me a few blocks from my house while holding a knife to my throat), and he also took my shoes after it was over. I get the concept of it being extra insurance you can't easily run as well as a brilliant humiliation tactic, but the whole thing makes me angry. And in the previous case, absolutely nothing came of it (I still suspect that person was the one that, months later in 2007, turned into the rapist that was plaguing the Upper East Side).

This incident makes me tired of being alone to defend myself and failing quite miserably (though I guess I'm not dead, so that in and of itself is a success).