Driving a limo in New York is a challenge. Driving New Yorkers is even a bigger challenge. You get tired of all the insults, yelling, etc. Each of us worked their own system. 
When I first time picked an executive from the Fashion District, I knew that he was going to an address which was at the intersection of Madison Ave and 69 Street, so this was a simple short ride. So I turned to the passenger and in the most polite manner asked him how he would like me to go. He looked at me in disbelief, and angrily asked whether I knew how to get to the corner of Madison and 69 th street? He was ready to jump out and call my company...
I told him that I knew, but I was asking him whether he had any preferences. He must have been doing this for years, and he might have some preferences. He thought for a second, and then said that it made sense. So, he gave me his preferences. He told me to take one of the streets, as "usually you never got stuck there", but you always get stuck if you take the next street.
As luck would have it, something happened ahead, and there was a fire truck in front of me, and it was a one way street, and there were cars behind me, and there was nothing I could do but wait. And I was OK with that. The great part was that my passenger felt awkward, as this was his direction, so instead of a usual "Only an idiot can take 54th street at that time", he mumbled something about this being very rare, and I generously comforted him that it was OK.
I happened to pick him quite often, and he would tell me stories while in the car. I remember one. I think it was a Christmas story. He was going somewhere and he was ready to cross the street when the traffic light turns green, and then he spotted an elderly lady standing next to him. She was a bit overwhelmed, and did not feel comfortable, as she was slower than all these young people around.
So he offered her his hand and walked her across the street to safety of a sidewalk. He said she resembled him his mom. He was in his late 50s, but for her he was a young boy. She looked up at him, said "Thank you" and slid a coin into his pocket. It was a dime. She gave him a tip. I guess a dime was a good tip in the 20s and 30s. He did not need a dime, but he took it. He did not want to insult her. He was a smart man.
* Images courtesy of Flickr
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