It's half an hour to midnight and we're blasting up 14th Street. The taxi rumbled like a go-kart, and the driver was handling the Brooklyn sidestreets as if any speed under 40 MPH would cause the car to explode. Clearly nervous, he struck up a conversation with me. The highlights:
"I have trouble seeing, I don't want to drive at night anymore."
"I'd drive during the day, but I can't sleep at night. I lie awake all night and fall asleep at 7 AM."
"It's impossible to get lost on Brooklyn, your always somewhere and you can always get somewhere."
"My days are my nights are my days. I can't sleep. See?"
"I've never had a muffin. I mean, I've never gotten up in the morning and had a muffin and other big things. I'd like that."
After I commiserated with him that I didn't have a regular eating schedule either: "What? No regular schedule? You need one. Your body needs to know what's coming."