Bee in the City

Just call me Carrie Bradshaw. I took my second trip to the Big Apple this weekend - a much needed girls weekend combined with an impromptu reunion with some college friends - complete with a little (too much) bubbly, shopping in the hip hipster districts, brunch at a kitchy themed hole in the wall, and magnolia's. If I learned anything from my Sex and the City-a-thons, it's that even the Carrie's of the City get into some I-hate-New-York trouble.

For me, this materialized through a traumatic episode of a cabbie driving off with my luggage in his trunk. Two days, one smelly outfit and a series of frantic phone calls to NYC Taxi Company later, and my bag was returned to me, safe and sound. So I thought. It wasn't until I was in the extremely long standby line for Bolt Bus that I realized. I had my bag and belongings - minus one key item. My relatively new Macbook (in it's hot pink sleeve). Gone. BLEEEP!!!

Turned out to be quite the expensive weekend excursion. I was consoled a bit about my idiocy when I overheard two frantic girls saying that they'd just left their suitcases in their taxi cab, too. I guess I'd found some kindred Carries. Or Bee's. One final word (or plea): to the crazy men in the NYC Taxi Company Garage giving me the run-a-round (you know who you are), you are mean, mean, meanies (yes, pathetic, I know...cut me some slack...I'm emotionally broke).