Logic, or lack thereof.

I've had relations in taxis.
(N.B. Not with taxi drivers.)

My muffled mind rationalized it since the drivers (at the times) spoke little English.

Is this horrific?
For you don't have to speak English to know that two people are relating.

But you do have to speak English to ask us to stop.

Well, maybe I am. Maybe I am.

Once I went to see Jens Lekman in concert.
(With IG, LZP, and AS.)
I did not take a cab there.
Or home.
It was fairly close to my apartment.

I find that I listen to "Black Cab" only when I'm walking.
I've never played it in a cab.

Just turn the music up, and keep your mouth shut.

The biggest loser. (Or, 3A91. Or, 6J47. Or, 7H29.)

Apparently it is common knowledge that I have both lost and recovered and lost and found things in the backs of cabs.
(Another colleague sought my services today. Word gets around.)

My secret: always take a receipt.

Proper paper-saving provides easy access to the medallion number which, I've found, is helpful not only in titling blog posts, but in recovering dropped goods.

(I generally throw said receipts into the mass of papers I store in my wallet, but still.)

Keep the cab number.
Call 311.
File a report with them.
Also, file a report here.
Follow-up with the TLC.
Follow-up again.
Make them give you the telephone number of the cab's owner/garage.
Travel to the nether regions of Long Island City or Elmhurst or East New York and collect your belongings from cab owner/driver/mechanic.*
Give them a reward.
Not a hug.
(My mom's advice.)

*If you are traveling because your boss forgot something in said cab, take the office car service. There's no use in risking leaving your stuff in a taxi while you fetch the shit someone else forgot. I'm just saying.