Number 80

I love when the universe aligns and makes things happen.
Some people refer to these instances as coincidences, but I'm of the opinion that everything you do leads you to that certain moment of awesomeness. Maybe I have just seen the movie Sliding Doors one too many times...
I'm getting ahead of myself here, and should first mention that this moment of awesomeness involved seeing taxi cab #80. This is no big deal to most of you, but to a few people in the city cab spotting has turned into quite a pastime. One friend refers to it as urban bird watching, and if this is the case, cab #80 is the bald eagle in a city of pigeons. The cab spotter isn't me, but one my close friends, and she has roped us into her world. She thought she was alone until she came across this article detailing the quest for cabs numbered under 100, and more importantly, why the heck cab #80 has eluded so many people.

Sunday I planned to meet friends for brunch and I waited for the bus...and I waited...and I waited. After waiting forever and answering calls from impatient friends I decided to break down and take a cab. The story would be great if cab number 80 rolled up and whisked me away, but no cabs were in sight. More waiting ensued. A cab rounded the corner and I hailed it only to see the bus approaching. Being the thrifty gal I am I waved the cab on and got on the bus glad to finally be on my way. A couple blocks away from the restaurant I looked up and noticed a cab in front of my bus. Surely it is cab 280 or cab 805, I thought as I leaned to the left and the right, but I did not see any place holders, just a big 80 starring back at me. I whipped out my camera as we came to a stop sign, snapped a photo, and jumped off at my stop in the next block hoping to get some exterior photos. No such luck. Cab number 80 sped north on Sheridan and I was left with only a snapshot, and a great story. Thank goodness for that late bus.