Maezing Content

With a Dash of Humor

In winter’s grip, New York’s embrace,
A cab ride promised warmth—a cozy place.
From LaGuardia’s buzz, where travelers swarm,
To Central Park, I longed for warm.

The window down, the wind did roar,
I felt like Frost’s traveler, lost in a boreal chore.
“Too cold!” I cried, “My bones might freeze!”
But the cabbie winked, “New York’s a breeze!”

Each mile dragged on, my teeth did clack,
I wondered if this ride was some ironic hack.
Like Dante’s trek through frigid rings,
But this was just a cab—no epic strings.

I quipped, “Well, at least it’s fresh!”
But my joke was lost in the icy mesh.
He chuckled, “You’ll build character, sweet,
Surviving New York? That’s no small feat!”

The cab became my personal chill,
A frosty trip, like Wuthering Hill.
Yet unlike Heathcliff’s vengeful plight,
This ride, though cold, didn’t bite.

Through frozen streets, we finally slowed,
I stumbled out, my hopes re-glowed.
But as I walked, my spirits soared,
I’d survived the cabbie’s frosty accord.

Now I laugh, with warmth restored,
At the worst cab ride I ever endured.
For in the end, it’s New York’s charm,
Where cold and humor keep you warm.

If I never meet this cabbie again, it will be too soon. And, the unfortunate part. I usually like to chit chat with my UBER driver anther their stories: I COULDN”T HEAR A THING! This is a writer nightmare!