I’ve always wondered when taxi drivers have the time to use the restroom. Do they stop the money-maker during rush-hour traffic to find a restroom? And then there would be the matter of parking. Whenever I take a cab I see the driver with a coffee in hand. I certainly couldn’t be a cab driver with my bladder capacity of a 90 yr old woman. Perhaps there are a few plastic bottles, I so naively used to think, under the cabbie’s seat to just go while he drives. All these questions have been stewing inside my head since I’ve been in NY. I suppose they’d go under “what to ask God when I finally get there.” Fortunately one of the questions was answered for me the other night. As I stood on the corner waiting to cross, at 1:47 am, a cab pulled over next to me. When the driver opened the door I heard a zipper and saw his, ahem… accoutrement get whipped out. He saw me with my mouth hanging open, pulled it in, shut the door and sped away. Honestly! Some people are disgusting. Thanks for contributing to NY’s perpetual urinal smell.