Toll Bridge, Ticket Bridge, Same Thing

Southbound on the I95 in The Bronx, coming up on the Throgs Neck bridge, I was cruising with the flow, 60-62mph. No rush: finishing a long day at work was stress enough.

V1 had started a deet-deet that was still strong as I neared the deceleration zone for the tollbooths. Bleary-eyed, I had noticed a taxi parked off to the side some distance back. I thought nothing of it. Still, V1 insisted Ka, above four dots in strength. I had backed off in a hurry.

Turns out that the taxi wasn’t a taxi at all, but a prowl car painted taxi yellow. No donuts, but lots of tickets were being served. The taxi smoky was calling out the prey on his radio, and his team of ticket servers just walked up to the chosen ones waiting to pay tolls, motioning them over to the side.

Julius Gee
Monterey Park, CA

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