Lucky for you, a Staten Island car service vehicle happens by and you flag it down.  The driver, a sullen Arabic man who speaks relatively good English, offers you a decent price.  You settle in as the vehicle charges forth.  Soon, you start to notice esoteric chanting music emanating from somewhere deep inside the cab.

Midway through the ride, you wonder if you should start conversation with the cabbie like all those personable characters do in the movies.  The cabbie shoves his head out the window and screams something not very nice at a truck driver that almost bumps into him.  He then turns to you and asks, "Twenty-third Street, right?"

"Yes," you say.