the happy cabby

After an amazing dinner at Bianca in Soho (chicken poached in balsamic (!) and a perfect lasagne), me and my friend Katie hailed a cab to share uptown. Upon opening the door, music pumped out of the car so loud it felt as if we were entering a transportable club. The taxi driver introduced himself as ‘the happy cabby – no tension, no stress’ (this little by-line was repeated maybe 5 times over the 10 minute drive). It was one of the best drives home ever! Once we told him we were Australian (initially he thought we were French because of our ‘demeanour’…?), he started pumping an old school INXS song and telling us jokes about Australian things (i.e. how he calls Aussie money ‘young’ money because it doesn’t have any wrinkles…!). I found the following cookie at the Chelsea Markets the next day which make me think of him…