Last week was a strange week...

Oh, New York. You are a strange and beautiful place. Last week, though, the strange totally kicked the ass of the beautiful. Instead of trying to explain with words just how odd this week has been, I'll show you a few photos that might make my point.

First, in a coffeeshop in Grand Central, Will and I saw this sign for book donations that were to go to Ethiopia. The sign says Donate your used books to support literacy and education in Ethiopia. Nice, right? Send your old books to Africa so the kids can learn to read.

The strange part, though, was the actual donation, Reggie Nadelson's Sex Dolls, (an Artie Cohen Thriller). I vaguely remember learning to read from something in the Dr. Seuss library.

Then, the coffeeshop tip jar. I will never understand this. It sort of bugs me. I lived on tips lo, those many years as a bartender/waiter, so I understand relying on the kindness of strangers. But the 'tip the guy who puts coffee in a cup for you' thing just seems strange. Anyone have any thoughts on this one?

On Thursday, I met my friend Nicole from college over in Williamsburg for a drink and a chat. I took the J from Delancey, a train I don't frequent. I thought this six-year-old reading the paper was about the cutest thing I'd seen in a while. The lady sitting two down from him did not think my taking of pictures was cute at all.

But by far, the strangest thing that hit Will and I last week had to do with New York City yellow cabs.

On Saturday night, we went with Will's family and a whole host of others to see Company on Broadway, and more specifically to see family friend Angel Desai in the show. After the show, we were headed downtown to a club party hosted by my friend, photographer Ian Cuttler.

We were trying to catch a cab in Times Square. When we realized that would be nearly impossible, we walked over to Eighth Avenue. Long story short, this girl tried to jump into our cab. She said she was there first, even though I was already in the cab. She said we would take the cab together, me and Will and her and her two friends. Um, no! I told her no, that we were going downtown. Conveniently, so was she! It took me a second, because this did sound like a good solution to our, em, her problem, but then... NO! Finally, Will had had enough and had to physically remove her from the doorway. She was small, but scrappy, so it's a good thing we've been working out!

Then on Sunday, again we had cab troubles. We were en route to Will's Aunt and Uncle's holiday party in Soho. We stopped in this little Italian wine shop on the Lower East Side for two last little gifts, then headed out to find a cab. We were on Orchard and Stanton when a yellow cab rolled up, his medallion lights shining and ready for business.

The driver rolled down the passenger-side window and asked where we were going. Any New Yorker knows that this is not a good sign, especially if you're trying to go to the outer boroughs or an airport. But luckily, we were only going to Broome Street, a quick and easy fare for him.

Well, weren't we shocked and appalled when he wouldn't take us! He grumbled a haughty "no", turned left on Stanton and turned on his "off-duty" lights.

Now, I understand that 4pm is nearing the end of their shift (as far as I know, cabbies drive from 5 to 5, pm to am or am to pm), but 4pm is not 5pm and Orchard is less than ten minutes from Broome, even with traffic! We commisserated with two neighborhood ladies, who exclaimed "nuh-unh! No he din'nt!", then we walked our present-laden, late selves on over to Soho.

Happy Holidays, Mr. Taxi. Happy Holidays, crazy cab-stealing girl. Happy Holidays, coffeeshop kids around the city! Happy Holidays, paper-reading boy. And Happy Holidays, Ethiopia!