Beyond the Ferris Wheel

Waternova

Swerving, honking, swerving out of this suffocating storm the yellowblack taxi van speeds up Central Park West and recklessly hangs a louie by powersliding across a patch of muddy ice—four tires spinning, four tires kicking up snow and shit and catapulting the taxi van onto West 77th Street—the van hurtling down a slumbering gully of beatnik prosperity and Ivy League liberalism, a strip of family-oriented wealth flanked by Notre Dame-like museums, doggy daycares, nanny academies, nouveau riche condominiums, Orthodox pubs, retro bookshops, magic theaters, bon vivant private schools and philharmonic playgrounds which whine and grumble, whine and grumble in their sleep as the van emphatically skids to a full stop.