Not In Front Of The Lady; or, that time I broke up a fight.

In my time as a New Yorker, I've committed my fair share of un-New Yorker-like social crimes.  I've smiled at strangers on the subway.  I've hailed cabs in the bus lane.  I never locked the door to my first New York apartment.  Once, when I was dog sitting, I didn't pick up after the dog.  But, in my defense, how do you pick up diarrhea?  If there was a handbook on how to be a New Yorker, these would be the opposites of what you are supposed to do.  

But if there is one area in which I excel, it is ignoring people.  I have a whole handful of techniques for ignoring panhandlers.  There's the Something In My Eye approach, where you pretend to be too preoccupied with whatever is in your eye to hear the person asking for money.  This is very similar to the I Lost Something In My Purse trick.  My personal favorite is the I Don't Speak English technique, where I've gone so far as to pull my out my cell phone and speak complete gibberish in to it.  For those who are a little more advanced, you can always try the I'm Deaf approach, but you need at least a basic understanding of American Sign Language.  

But I digress.  For this post is not about my fear of giving strangers money-- that will come soon-- but, rather, about my knack for avoiding conflict.  I almost always turn a blind eye to fights or arguments that happen on the streets.  I once saw a man slap his girlfriend across the face, and every inch of my feminist instincts told me to do something, but my common sense kicked in after the man announced to the world "Fuck off, she's my girlfriend!", and I kept walking right along.  This might come off as harsh or heartless of me, particularly to those who don't live in New York, but these are the rules.  Just the other day, a man was stabbed after he asked a group of girls to be quieter on the subway.  These are just the rules.

So I am at a compete loss as to what overcame me this evening on my ride home from work, when I broke up a fight between my cabbie and a young man on a bike.

It all happened very quickly, and I'm not completely sure how the altercation began, as I was busy stalking my current crush on Instagram, but I heard a loud thump come from the front of the cab as we pulled up to a red light, just two blocks from my apartment.  My assumption is that the cab cut the biker off, but it's also very possible that he hit the biker.  Before I even had the chance to ask what had happened, the cabbie had hopped out of the cab, and began arguing with the man on the bike.  

Now, as I have said, my normal approach here would be to just look away and mind my own business. But, though completely unwarranted, this fight was my business.  We were two blocks away from my stop!  Why couldn't the cabbie ask the biker to meet him two blocks up ahead to finish their argument?  What peeved me even more was the cabbie hadn't even turned the meter off.  Every second of this pissing contest was costing me money!  Plus, the men's synchronized diving was about to start, and there was absolutely no way I was going to miss my nightly fill of men in Speedos.  

These were the thoughts that were running through my head, until I finally heard my cabbie yell "Go ahead and hit me!"  That was the breaking point.  I got out of the car, and slammed the door shut.  The two men stopped what they were doing and stared right at me, both of their mouths agape, as though they had completely forgotten that I had been there all along.  I gave them a nasty, dirty look, handed the cab driver $7 (NO TIP!), and screamed in a very un-lady like way "Really?! In front of a lady?!" before walking away.

Out of sheer disbelief of what I had just done, I didn't look back to see how it ended for the cabbie and the biker.  I would like to believe that the two men, ashamed by their behavior, shook hands and let bygones be bygones.  In fact, they felt so bad about how they had treated each other, they took each other out for beers, and discovered that they both have an appreciation for Miles Davis and NY Times crosswords, and go on to become the best of friends, all thanks to me.  But that's most likely my Disney-washed brain always looking for the happily ever after.

I made it home in time to watch the synchronized diving, and I didn't get stabbed for speaking up.  So, at least I got a happily ever after.  Unless my mother forces me to relocate back to Texas after reading this, which is a completely feasible possibility.