I'm in a Cab

Coming to you live from an expensed cab on the Upper West. Getting a cab in this town in this weather this close to the holidays is virtually impossible. Not to mention the snow drifts you have to hurdle as you interject yourself into oncoming traffic. My main gripe with cabs are drivers who insist on pressing on the gas before your whole body is in the vehicle. Ironically, this just happened to me. There's nothing that gets your blood moving faster than the fear you will be left for dead in the dirty street slush because you were too encased into your knee-length poofy coat to tumble far enough inside. But alas I am alive and have almost arrived at home base, where I will make a B-line for the elevator before any fashionista can spot me looking like a snowman.