NYC Blizzard of 2016

The historic, gas-light-like-looking street lamp threw an orange orb into the drab half-light of the thickly cloud-covered winter afternoon. Lit up, the snowflakes drifted down slowly in a side-to-side motion like a piece of paper that doesn't fall straight because it's so light and has so much surface. The flakes were like dime-sized pieces of torn cotton. The unusually empty NYC, devoid of cars and pedestrians, made him watch the snowflakes dance. It calmed Nirvaan's soul down as his Hyundai idled on the east side of Central Park.

"Yo, it's XBox time! Bring a Thali from Bengal Tiger. Quit working already!"

"Sorry, bro! I can't afford the toll over the bridge. I need a fare to take me back to Queens."

Nirvaan tossed his phone back on the dash after the text. He looked out on the usually busy 5th Avenue. After an initial struggle of melting, as soon as the first layer of snow had managed to stay frozen, a two-inch high carpet of white had quickly built up. A single yellow cab barreled down the pristine white slope. The backside broke out. The driver hit the brakes. The cab slid sideways. Before coming to a stop, the driver accelerated with spinning tires - snow flying from the tires and a sharp whine from the slick thread sliding without gripping. The cab carried on.

A single 50-year-old woman hurried down the sidewalk with a big, formal, grey coat and four overfilled grocery bags. All three phones in Nirvaan's car beeped the shrill emergency message alarm again. He scrambled to turn off the assault on his ears.

"Extreme weather! One in one hundred year blizzard! Prepare with blankets, light, food, and water. You may not be able to leave until sanitation services can clear your front door. Stay inside."

The Uber heatmap was pale, almost no color, everywhere. Around midtown, there was a slight tinge. Nirvaan put the car in drive and slowly rolled onto 5th Avenue. At around 15 mph, the tires seemed to not slide badly yet but also had enough momentum to not get stuck. There was a boyish joy in marking the first track in the snow. Left and right, he had empty lanes that would give him plenty of safety to slide to a stop should something go wrong.

The light hue on the heatmap was slowly moving over to the East Side. The Lyft app showed no heat at all. On 57th street, he dared swinging a left. He slowed down to 10 mph. He pulled the steering wheel. The whole car started turning. He hit the gas. This got stopped the spin but kept him sliding sideways. He was going to miss the intersection. He passed the first lane, second, third, and then the tires gripped to send him forward into the street. Phew! Not like back home in India.

The Uber app flashed him a rider: 4.95 stars, cute face. Out of habit, he swiped down the reviews. It had always been interesting to find the review that caused a near-perfect rider to have lost the points. After a long row of 5-star reviews with no comment, here it was: "1 star - Typical entitled white bitch. Called me Punjab. Bossed me around. I'm Mexican!"

Nirvaan kept scrolling down her review list of no comment 5-star reviews until he found the next: "1 star - Came soaking sweaty in my car. Told me the whole ride how good her Barre class was and that I must try it. She left a wet imprint of her body on the seat. I had to scrub the seat and put air fresher up to get the stink of wet skunk out."

Curiosity getting the better of him, Nirvaan kept scrolling. He knew that he should accept the ride before anyone could snatch it, but after he accepted, he wouldn't be able to see the reviews anymore. "1 star - came slobbery drunk into my car. Threw up within minutes but managed to get most of it out of the door while driving. The worst part was her crying after that - terrible, worst squeal I've heard my whole life. Then she started yanking on my seat, begging me to sing away her sorrows."

"Well, it's a short ride only, but I might as well make some money until I get a ride to take me home," thought Nirvaan and tapped the accept button.

When he arrived in front of the Blakely Hotel, only one figure was standing on the sidewalk with a large, mulberry-colored carry-on and backpack. She was a short woman in her early twenties with auburn hair, curled and balayaged under a stylish knit cap. With prim and proper posture, she raised her hand high in the cab-hailing fashion. "Anna?" asked Nirvaan through the rolled-down window before he got out and put her luggage in the trunk.

On their way, Nirvaan checked her out through the rearview mirror. The felt fabric of her coat had the brand new shine on it. The brand wasn't a luxury brand like Versace. She seemed to dress very well with the means of a middle-class income. Her knees were crossed and hands rested on top of each other on the knee like she was posing to look refined. Her chin was a little pushed up like she wanted to emanate cosmopolitan woman in the big city while she looked out of the window with poise and purpose.

Nirvaan liked to categorize his rides. Some oversaw him as a merely functional piece to get them from point A to B. Some wanted to be his best friend. And some were like Anna, they felt like they had to play a role from him. They were keenly aware of him and tried to portray the right thing. He felt partially demeaned by the divide between them that those people acted out. And he felt a little bit charmed by someone feeling so compelled to put on a show for him.

"Switching hotels before the big blizzard," Nirvaan made the obligatory conversation to get a five-star rating.

"Actually, I'm hotel hunting. My plane got diverted from Boston Logan to JFK. The last two hotels have been booked out because lots of travelers got stranded. I'm trying to visit my parents in New Haven before winter break is over," replied Anna.

"Oh, I also study. I study finance at Baruch," replied Nirvaan.

"That's a great value school," replied Anna. Nirvaan sneered at the comment. It sounded like she was saying he went to a cheap school. Sure, his ability to afford to pay for it was the major factor, but it was also the best city college. Especially, he didn't like the implication in her tone of voice that she was above having to consider the cost of college. He didn't even want to hear which school she went to.

She was waiting for him to ask her which school she went to. It seemed simply reciprocal to exchange. And telling people about her school always made her happy and filled her with pride about where she had made it in life. Showing school pride was her way of thanking all her peers and professors for making the place as special as it was. This driver was very rude, not friendly at all. Her eyes fell on the license placard above the glove compartment.

"Didn't you say your name was Nirvaan? It says John Bennett on the license!" asked Anna.

"Oh, I'm driving my brother's car," replied Nirvaan automatically.

"Your brother is black?" asked Anna, surprised.

Nirvaan took a look at the license placard. A big-faced, bald guy twenty years older than him looked back at him.

"Oh, I forgot. We traded cars because ours is in the shop," replied Nirvaan. Silently to himself, he thought, "Fucking bitch is going to give me a 1-star review." His rating was low enough to be close to where Uber would cut him off.

She thought, "What a fucking slum dog! I caught him on his lie and he's only lying more. He probably doesn't even know how to drive. He definitely won't know how to drive on snow. I hope I make it alive out of this!"

Lucky for the two, the silent ride only lasted five blocks until they pulled up to the Midtown Hilton. He placed her things on the curb after kicking the snow away with his feet. She got a rueful look in her eyes. She pulled her lower lip up with her teeth.

"Listen, could you wait for me in case this hotel is booked out as well?" asked Anna.

"Look, I'm no cab. I can't keep the meter running. I have to get home. If a ride to Queens calls, I have to take it," lamented Nirvaan.

"I'll promise I'll give you a five-star rating if you wait. It'll only be five minutes to check," she pleaded.

They were both standing out in the cold, literally and figuratively. He didn't like her. He wanted to get home and out of the snow. He knew that she'd give him a bad rating, likely ruining his Uber account.

She was alone in the big city that had emptied out. The occasional gust of wind howling to precede the quiet before the storm gave her deep shivers of just how cold and in-hospital the city would soon turn. She was well aware that almost all drivers, commercial and private, had parked their cars and were holed up at home. There she was, begging a bootleg driver to look after her.

The standoff stood in the air between them. The last of daylight had faded. Even though it was only 5 pm, darkness had fallen. The darkness affected their mood to feel testy and want to be done with it. Her face pleaded with him by showing worry. He tried to keep his composure but emotionally struggled with really not wanting to put up with this.

"I'll wait," admitted Nirvaan. "But if I get called out to Queens, I'm gone like a rocket!"

"Fair enough," said Anna and hurried inside.

Nirvaan checked his phones with the different ridesharing apps. Lyft had a faint, pink hue around Battery Park. Maybe, there is a rider waiting. Who knows where that rider goes. It's a ten-minute drive to get there. Usually, rides are picked up fast by ever-circling drivers, but this one lasted and lasted. Nirvaan feeling testy about getting home, upgraded the nickname he used for her from bitch to cunt-bitch.

The snow came down at a lighter rate, but occasionally blasts of a gust blew down the canyon of high-rise buildings. It was like the taunting hissing of a monstrously large animal, huffing and puffing at the city. He could sense the blast fingering its way through the streets, splitting at intersections. The car rocked a bit with it. His instinct told him to get home and out of the path of the incoming blizzard. He should simply eat the cost of the bridge toll.

Anna reappeared without her luggage. He rolled down the window.

"Listen, Nirvaan. The hotel wants $600 for the night. The rates are through the roof. How about I pay you $600, and you drive me home to my parents in Connecticut?" she asked him.

"That'll take hours. There is a crazy blizzard!" exclaimed Nirvaan!

Anna pulled her wallet out of her purse. She lifted the clean twenties just far enough out of the wallet so that she could flip through bill after bill for him to see and be tempted.

"If I pay that much money to stay a single night, I might as well get all the way home. My parents are five minutes from the freeway. We can stick to the freeways. They are always cleared. I'll give you all this money!" she flipped through the bills again in front of Nirvaan. "I'll pay you cash, not through the app."

That's about as much as he makes in a week. The money was very tempting. The ask was very crazy. His mind was in a stupor. This was sprung on him too surprisingly.

"Okay, I'll get my bags," she said in a negotiation technique she had seen. Simply assume yes, and the other person might go with it.

Nirvaan put his hands over his face to brace his emotions. Hadn't the reviews essentially said: crazy white bitch? She came back out with her luggage. He helped her luggage into the trunk. Seated in the car, he put her address in. About a three-hours drive for $600 plus back would mean that he was getting paid about $100 per hour. Of course, there was the gas cost and some tolls. But he usually made that much in a whole week. Fuck it! You only live once!

In the rearview mirror, she took off her coat to make herself comfortable for a long drive. She was wearing a white satin blouse, gold earrings that went in an ornate structure all the way down to her shoulders, and the makeup had the feel of a formal Christmas dinner. She seemed to be dressed to look like the good girl coming home to her parents. Her face looked ahead serious and composed.

"What's your favorite animal?" she tried to make pleasant small talk.

"I always had a thing for red panda bears. I saw one curled up on a tree branch in the Bronx Zoo. He seemed to have a great life of sleeping so well. His breathing was so peaceful," said Nirvaan.

"That's an interesting choice," said Anna. He didn't pick something typical like a bear, lion, or elephant. Maybe, he's more developed than I thought.

"I like sea otters. They are so cute when they hold hands and float around in the water on their back," added Anna.

"Typical girl choice," thought Nirvaan. "The talking will stop soon. The drive will make her drowsy," he assured himself.

"What do you do when you don't drive or study?" asked Anna, being genuinely curious to find out that her Uber driver might actually be an interesting person.

Nirvaan found the question hard. He spent the rest of his time playing XBox with his roommate and drinking, but he knew that this would not sound appealing to a girl. So he had to find another answer. He figured that she didn't know him. So he might as well make something up, "I spend every free minute playing the guitar in a college band. We are small fish, but we take our gigs seriously. What about you?"

"That dude is lying so hard," thought Anna to himself. She felt herself getting pissed off. She recalled the words of her father brandishing lying and thieving as the worst disease that had to be stamped out. She was going to call him out on it. Like her dad, she wasn't going to get him away with that. "I'm a gamer girl. I spend most of my time playing computer games," she lied to him.

"Oh really!" his face dropped. Happy like a puppy to find another puppy, he yapped, "Have you played Overwatch yet?"

"Ha!" called out Anna with a snap. "You are a gamer, not a musician!"

"What the hell!" exclaimed Nirvaan. "You simply said you are a gamer to trap me?"

Nirvaan pulled up on the 49th street on-ramp to FDR drive. As soon as they got to the top of the highway, the layer of snow showed to be an inch deeper. All the cars had stuck to the right-most lane, leaving the rest pristine. The right-most lane had two gray-brown lines where the car tires had compressed the snow.

Nirvaan tried to stick to the beaten track, but at the 61st street exit, a truck spun out, making a turn towards Queensboro Bridge. Quickly he pulled the steering wheel left as hard as he could. He got their car's trajectory away from the truck into the wide-open expanse on the left. Feeling the car slowing down as it pushed into the deep snow, he pushed the gas hard. The car fish-tailed wildly. He knew he had to get back to the beaten path of the tire tracks. Anna screamed. He felt the urgency he never felt when he was alone getting in trouble. He got the tires back into the gray-brown tracks and let out a deep sigh.

"I ain't staying behind here. You drive like an executioner!" she complained and unsnapped her seatbelt.

"The snow is too deep. I can't stop!" yelled Nirvaan back, panicked.

"I fucking know! I'm coming through the middle!" Anna wasn't taking any bullshit. Both her hands pulled on the left and right seat in front of her to get up.

"No! No! Don't get your muddy shoes all over! It'll be a mess!" yelled Nirvaan, pushing back with his right arm.

"Dammit!" yelled Anna. He heard two thumping noises of what must have been Anna's boots being pulled off and thrown down. Then her red-angry face appeared right next to Nirvaan's face. Her body forced his arm away. Her butt bumped into his shoulder. Suddenly he had so much woman on him. She plopped herself down in the passenger seat and put the seatbelt back on.

There was silence as they sat next to each other. They both had broken the glass wall. They were now sitting as equals in close proximity. They had slipped a bit out of their driver-passenger role. Without the boots, he could smell her feet - rancid, sweaty socks. He sniffed his nose impulsively. He didn't want to call her out. She knew that her feet stunk. Not only did she smell it as well, but people had told her so, too.

"Gruyere," she said.

"Beg you, what?" he replied.

"I'm told that they are the exact smell of Gruyere cheese. If you put Gruyere next to them and blindfold yourself, you can't tell the difference," she was trying to speak about the elephant in the room and make fun of it.

"I've never had Gruyere," said Nirvaan. "We have paneer. Now I know." He wondered to himself if that was the thing one should say if another person labeled the smell of their feet.

The smell of her moist feet filled the cabin. Every breath he took brought him more of it. He settled into the smell. It was like being with family. You had to embrace their smell, accept it, and get used to it. And after a while, he developed a certain familiarity and coziness with it.

She had to also accept him more. He wasn't the anonymous back of a head of a driver anymore. In side glances, she saw into his eyes. He saw the worry widening those eyes whenever they had to leave the twin track of tires to enter the pristine white. She saw the occasional smirks as his mind wandered over something funny. Most of the time, his eyes were very attentive. He was paying attention to the world very carefully. In that care, she could see that things mattered to him. He had feelings. He was a human being. Even though he may have a plain life of driving, playing computer games, and studying at a mid-rate university, he was reacting to everything and he mattered to himself.

After a long, silent study of him, when they were passing into Rochester County, she told him, "You are an alright guy."

They hit a line of four state trooper SUVs blocking every freeway lane. The big rump of the SUVs was domineering. The red and blue flashing lights filled up the snow and everything that they painted in their color. There was always something impressive about the police coming out in full force. An officer waved them with a traffic light stick to exit the freeway. Carefully, Nirvaan slowed down because he knew that the exit wouldn't afford him the wide open space to slide around, but a low wall on each side would feel uncomfortably close.

When entered the turn of the off-ramp, an officer standing on the side signaled him with gloved hands to stop and pull up next to him. The officer was puffing white steam into the cold night. Evidently, the officer was well equipped because he felt very comfortable standing out there.

"As soon as you get to the end of the turn, the ramp is going to slope downward. With those tires, you are going to lose control. We can't leave you up here with a blizzard coming in. So I'll radio my colleague to clear the road below. When your car loses control, try to keep it as straight as possible. Don't fight it! There'll be plenty of free space to let the momentum run out," the officer said, and Nirvaan nodded.

The officer got on the radio, "We got another one coming down. Let me know when it's an all clear."

"Hold tight," reported the radio back.

All three waited in silence until the officer couldn't hold in a comment, "You knuckleheads should have stayed at home. It's difficult for us. We can't tow you because there are no tow trucks. We can't leave you here because you might be stranded for a day or two." Nirvaan and Anna felt like renegades and bonded by their secret that they were going to keep going.

"All clear," reported the radio.

The officer waved them. Nirvaan slowly let the car idle in first gear. Not having enough momentum to bite into the snow, he had to accelerate a bit. Anna felt tension and apprehension. Her whole body tensed. They came to the end of the turn. A long ramp sloped downward. There was another on-ramp opposite. There was a wide intersection in the middle with a stop sign. An officer looked up at them. When Nirvaan dipped down the slope, the car started sliding faster. The officer started running away at the first sign of a slide. At first, Nirvaan could steer a little bit. Then the wheel did nothing anymore. The car slowly turned to the left, and their slide accelerated. They shot across the intersection looking sideways at a single cop that was running around to make sure that the waiting two cars stayed far away from the intersection. Then they stopped.