Last week, I was hard pressed to find a good reason why we live here.
Biting wind, slippery sidewalks and snow blowing in the face…signs do not point to “yes.” They point to “I need a warmer coat.”
However, protesting the notion of standing in 7 degree weather to take two buses home, I stepped into a cab one evening and remembered how Chicago can be livable in the winter—there are vehicles out there, waiting to drive us around. We don’t have to wait on the bus. We don’t have to clean snow off our cars. We can take a cab. It’s easy.
Endure the scent, for better or worse.
Oh, and pay the man (or lady).
I don’t take cabs often. It’s a rare treat. I have a foxy Focus, even though I drive her infrequently. For some reason, taking a cab feels like cheating. I’ll usually only do so if:
1. I’m feeling fancy (not too often).
2. I’m running really late (it happens).
3. I’m working really late (I can expense).
4. I’ve had a little too much to drink (i like wine).
Long story short, cabs can be smelly and/or nauseating. However, they can be a lifesaver in a pinch and a treat from time to time. And certainly, a great place to have a dance party to “Groove Is In the Heart.” That may or may not have happened.