conversation with a cab driver on Amsterdam and 100th

Him (rolling down the window in a New Yawk accent): Where are you going?
Me: 69th
Him: That's close enough---
after which he proceeds to tell me all about how he just turned down a fare because they wanted to go to Chelsea Piers and he didn't want to drive all the way down there in the traffic, because he wouldn't make it back to switch out the cab at the end of his shift at 5...and did I think that he was giving up too many fares close to 4pm? He didn't think so, but maybe he is, he's not so sure.

"Are you coming from home or going home? Oh, you don't live here? Oh- well where DO you live? Nowhere? How is that possible? Oh, you're a singer--
( at 78th and Bway) Oh, I know that guy on the motorcycle. He used to teach where I did- at the performing arts high school.
So- what kind of singer?
(at 72nd and Bway) When I was studying acting there was a vocal coach who lived down the hall from me and one day he tested my voice and he said I could sing--3? Can people sing 3 octaves normally? Or is it 2? Well, anyway, he said I had a pretty good voice, but I don't really sing except for my own pieces and for my own enjoyment and things.
So where are you singing next? Wow. Really. Wow".

He was kind of as self-deprecating as woody allen, only with really bad teeth, possibly not Jewish, and definitely not as famous for subtleties and sarcasm in filmmaking. But who knows.

At my final destination I just got out a bit dazed since he caught me right after a coaching, when I'm trying to let everything sink in and not escape into the netherword that IS people watching in nyc.