Drive

I took a taxicab home from the city last night. It's hit or miss with cabbies that time of night: they might be chatty, or pissy, or just want to drive really fast on the expressway and not say a word at all.

But this cabbie -- his name is Matthew -- was cool. He's an improvisational jazz guitarist, and he plays classical too. But his favorite is Dixieland. He was having a good night: he had just spent the night with an old friend, driving him from Trenton to Conshohocken and catching up along the way. The other reason he said his night was going well was because he just heard from a woman he liked, and she had just broken up with her boyfriend of 3 years. That, he told me, was good news.

We talked for awhile, in that way that you can only do when it's late and it's just you and your cab driver, with the night peaceful and quiet. Matthew told me the best places to hear jazz in the city are Zanzibar Blue, Chris' Jazz Cafe, and a place on 3rd and Poplar whose name he couldn't remember. Bartlieb's or Ortlieb's or something like that.