How did that Frank Sinatra song go? I want to be a part of it, New York….New York. What exactly did he mean by that? Part of what? I like NY although occasionally it exasperates me.  And I have an abundance of patience so it takes a lot to aggravate me.

I don’t think Frank was referring to the traffic. Although driving in midtown and beyond doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I understand traffic patterns, I know how to drive, and I do it diligently. For example, merging traffic– everyone knows what this means. In the real world, it means you go, I go, we take turns. Customarily, it’s very civilized. In NY, there’s some minor adjustments. Merging in midtown means — you cut me off, I cut you off, you give me the finger, I curse you under my breath and we fight to the finish. It’s very simple.

So, recently after a brief weekend in the city, we got in the car and began the trek back home. There were roughly 30 blocks between where we parked and the Lincoln Tunnel. No problem. Except, for some reason this particular Sunday was extraordinarily busy. Every block had an excruciatingly long traffic light with the added burden of, don’t block the box, no honking, miss the cab driver by a hair. All the normal stuff.

I remained very calm for the duration. Even as four lanes merged into one. I didn’t exhibit any signs of impatience. I could literally see the tunnel entrance. I’d been waiting patiently for this merger for just under an hour. The tunnel was ONE BLOCK AWAY. I breathed a sigh a relief. Finally.

Out of the blue, yes – the NYPD traffic cop blue, came the whistle.  I was in the far right lane carefully merging to the left. Suddenly, before me I heard the shrill, high pitched sound, a searingly loud, obnoxious whistle. Manning the intersection was a NYPD traffic cop pointing his finger at me. Inches before my merger into the tunnel – this giant fellow is pointing me to the outside lane. I was incredulous, beyond annoyed, exceptionally exasperated.

I looked at him and looked at the traffic entering the tunnel and was like – YOU ARE CRAZY. I continued creeping forward carefully considering my options – even though they appeared limited.  With his left hand he pointed me to the outside lane again - as if I missed it the first time.  Seemed he sensed the flicker of resistance and stepped towards the car and mouthed the words – I DARE YOU while casually reaching for the ticket booklet inside his jacket.

Now, had I taken him up on his offer I might likely be writing this from a NYPD traffic cop jail. Three seconds later, not even, he said it again – of course with more meaning. I DARE YOU.  (He double dared me?) Cautiously I put my window down and asked – what exactly do you want me to do? His answer – Go ’round the block.  (????)

So this traffic cop thinks by taking one little car out of the tunnel traffic his issues are over? My patience was o-v-e-r. I admit, I wimped out – I did what I was told, unhappily. Quickly, the conversation in the car turned to why this guy was so cranky. A rationalization was imperative. What was his problem?

Sunday duty, tunnel traffic, bad attitude, – he must have been at least on probation or something…..missed his coffee & doughnut stop this morning….whatever….

A Car is useless in New York, essential everywhere else. The same with good manners.

Mignon McLaughlin, American Journalist 1913-1983