On the corner of 34th Street and Park Avenue a gaggle of Murray Hill Brats were standing in a circle wearing their spray tans, designer sundresses, flip flops, handbags and sunglasses. Two of the 5 girls said their goodbyes and went on their way. The remaining three hailed a taxi which stopped where I was standing. At first there was hesistation on their part, having thought perhaps I had hailed it. "No, it's yours," I said. As they piled in I wondered where this summer brunched up bunch was going on this fine Saturday afternoon. TriBeCa? Upper West Side? Upper East? West Village?
"Grand Central, please," they told the cab driver.
Grand Central? You could see Grand Central from where we were standing. Grand Central? Grand Central? Really? Grand Central! Grand Central is 8 blocks away!
8.
Blocks.
Away.
6 comments:
Yeah, but it was hot out.
And they were wearing flip-flops.
Nah...you are right. No excuse.
Well, split between the three of them, cab fare must have been relatively cheap.
not as cheap as walking 8 blocks.
8.
blocks.
kids nowadays are L.A.Z.Y!
Hell, I can walk 8 blocks and I'm a 60 year old fat man.
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