Hansom Cabs = Not Handsome

Sure, they're romantic. If you live in ye olde timey times, or you're out in the countryside somewhere. Not in NYC. Not anymore. Not when you're in a soup of car traffic --not hansom cab traffic-- in the middle of Times Square. Horns honkin' and lights flashing and everything horrible, right up in the horse's grill. I don't care how many skanky blankets they give you, you're downwind from an abusive bum driver with b.o., and it is not romantic. It is a phony baloney Cinderella fantasy, and the horses are treated like horse shit. They're not meant to have nostrils full of exhaust and a mean old dirtbag sitting in the driver seat whippin' the shit out of his bread and butter.

I'm not saying the horses have to be pampered in an excessive race horse style, but how about a little respect? Don't drive through Times Square. Put their stables in Central Park instead of that filthy slave pit near the Westside Highway. Let them sleep in the peace, quiet, and relatively clean air of the park where they're forced to tromp around all damn day. After his last haul of fat tourists for the day is done, and he's dropped them off at the Olive Garden, he's then forced to pathetically stumble 40 blocks home to that dark dungeon for a brief respite. Maybe eat a bit moldy hay and stand in a pissy stall for 5 hours before he gets to do it all over again. I'd say it's lame, but it's way worse.

I saw one particular horse freaking out in a maze of traffic last night near the TKTS booth where Broadway and 7th kind of meet in the middle. It was bumper to bumper, and the cars were touching the horses knees. He was struggling with his mouth bit, it hurt him, and he was shaking his head to try and either adjust it or alleviate the discomfort. He was anxious. There were a couple of fat asses from Ohio* in the buggy in the back, lovin' life. Since the traffic wasn't moving, and neither could I as a pedestrian, I was face to face with the horsie, and I said to the driver, "There's something wrong with his bit. It's too tight. Something's wrong." And he goes, "Traffeeck." So I'm like, yeah, there's traffic. Look, something's wrong with your horse." And he's like, "Traffeeck" trying to blow me off and get away from me, but because of the "traffeeeck" he wasn't going anywhere, and the horse was still struggling. Stupid dirtbag fuck.

Is it better to be a hansom cab horse than being dog food or sent to the glue factory? Doubtful.

*I'm guessing on this. But they had that Ohio look. You know the one.