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High life

I once tried to buy coke from the head of Manhattan detectives

But he forgave me, thanks to Miss South Carolina Speedway

23 May 2015

9:00 AM

23 May 2015

9:00 AM

This is as good as it gets. A light rain is falling on a soft May evening and I’m walking north on a silent Park Avenue hoping to get into trouble. Fourteen thousand yellow taxis have turned Manhattan into a Bengali hellhole, blasting their horns non-stop, picking up or disgorging passengers in the middle of traffic-clogged streets, speeding and failing to yield to pedestrians as Big Bagel law requires.

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