Last Saturday (June 19), I had to get up early and make my way to lower Manhattan to take the Civil Servuce Exam for the City of New York. It was at the enviable hour of 9:30 am, meaning you had to BE there by that time.
I followed the subway directions to City Hall but then became confused about where to find the test site on Pearl Street. I was in the Tribeca area, and the streets criss-crossed and were named after people and other things, as opposed to the easy-to-navigate grid of numbered streets and avenues in Midtown and above.
I kept asking for directions at the few places that were open at that time of morning, but all that happened was I walked back and forth like a ping-pong ball, passing the same Starbucks five times (and yes it was the same Starbucks, not five different ones on the same street.)
So I finally just hailed a cab because I was getting tired and worried that I would not make it in time.
I told the cabbie I wanted to go to Pearl Street. He looked up in surprise.
"Pearl Street? But that's the next street, man." (Man? I'm a female, and not even a fat one at that! But I just took it to be a pet phrase of his.)
I told him I knew it was close by but I had walked a lot in all directions and still had not found it. And that I was on my way to an exam and getting worried about the time.
"OK, man," he said, starting the cab. "Pearl Street is near here, but maybe not the number you need. We'll go look."
The cab driver drove down a few streets trying to find the address. We hit on Pearl Street and kept driving."
"Hey, man! This is a far walk they wanted you to make!"
We pulled up at the test site (which was near a deli named -- I kid you not -- Mrs. Friggins' Kitchen at the corner of Pearl and Madison.) Throngs of fellow test takers were on the sidewalk.
"This is it, man." I paid him and gave him a big tip. I climbed out of the cab.
"Hey, man!" he yelled before I shut the cab door.
I looked up.
He pumped his fist in the air and yelled "Pass that exam!"