Something I’d Probably Do

I have a habit of not using this (points to head) before opening this (points to mouth). It may have something to do with the occasional confusion between this (points to arse) and this (points to elbow).

Anyway, I’m not saying this conversation actually took place, but it nearly did. I mean, the first part happened, but the rest occurred in my head.

I was in a taxi in Queens, New York, going through a fancy neighborhood.

“This right here is a nice place to live,” says the Vietnamese cab driver, “You’ve got the subway, the E line takes you right into Wall Street, you’ve got LaGuardia and JFK , big houses. It’s a good neighborhood.”

I’m not great on small talk, but suprisingly I was doing OK.

“Have you lived in New York all your life?” I said.

“Seven years.”

“Seven years.”

“Seven.”

This is small talk. I was shocked. I rarely do that, and I was rocking it. Seriously. Not only was I holding my own, I’m pretty sure at one point I was holding someone else’s.

OK, all of THAT took place. Now here’s the part that didn’t, and if I were a lesser blogger, then I’d say that it did, but I’m not so I won’t ’cause it didn’t.

But as the neighborhood changed, I nearly turned to Mrs. This and said:

“This isn’t so nice here. You have off-track betting, a used tire place, all checks cashed, liquor stores – ew, and look at that guy. Man.”

I also would have turned to the driver while I basked in the glow of all my small talk finery and said: “So where do you live?”

And he would have pointed to a street off ahead to my side and said: “I live right up there.”

But that didn’t happen, like I said.

Why?

Because I remembered that the important thing to bear in mind about being me is knowing when to quit.