The Crazy Cab Ride

I had the pleasure of a quick trip to NYC to meet with several of my tour sponsors. While I was there, I was able to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art, have a quick dinner with old friends, and I even squeezed in a few plays in the evenings. 

It sounds like I was playing, but other than the evenings, both days were full of scheduled meetings, so a lot of work got done as well.  I was really excited to get back home today. It was only 2.5 days, but I really missed my kids.

I have to mention the harrowing cab ride to the airport. For some reason, I accidently scheduled the return flight out of Newark. If that was not bad enough, the cab ride was the single most frightening car ride I have ever been on. The driver was dodging through traffic, and at times he went well over 90 miles per hour. Whiplash and fear were my two companions the whole way. I found myself thinking about life, my children, how much I would miss them, what the crash was going to feel like, etc. It was awful.

What I found most interesting is that when I got to the airport,  I felt so relived I almost cried. I thought about those emotions and wondered why at anytime I did not just ask him to slow down. For 30 or so minutes, I had allowed myself to be put in a potentially dangerous situation, but it never occurred to me to speak up for myself. In stead, I prayed, worried, and made myself sick. I have not figured out exactly what this means, or how I am going to apply it into my life, but I know that there is a lesson in there somewhere.

I am also convinced that most cab drivers were professional racecar drivers before they came to America!