Our Middle Fingers Are The Same Color, Too
Powerman Can't Catch a Cab Either
Yesterday, I reflected on the state of our country in a July 4th special on this blog. About 18 hours later, I got the best example of the state of our country’s views about each other with a couple of waves of the finger. We watched the fireworks explode from Weehawken, NJ, sitting together watching as many colors in the sky as there were watching amongst us. After the half-hour spectacle, we drove home very late at night (why they would close any roads near any of Manhattan’s bridges is beyond me). I asked our friends to leave us close to our houses since they had a much longer trip home than I did.
Soon after our friends dropped us off on the Upper West Side, I waved for a taxi to take me home. My index finger waved high enough that any of the empty taxis could have picked me up. I blinked when the first one passed me, I giggled when the second one did, and by the fourth, I let out a full-out belly laugh. The
