Start spreading the news, I'm leaving today, I want to be a part of it, New York, New York Characters: OTA Setting: A few blocks from the British Consulate, NYC, late morning Friday Content: It's Pete so...language Summary: Pete lands in NYC, then heads to a meeting at the consulate and is very cranky about it.
It had been a long bloody day already and it was only eleven in the morning. Pete had had one cup of weak tea during the eight hour flight and nly two cigarettes since landing and as he stared out the window of his New York City taxi cab, he couldn't help but wonder who he would be forced to kill first. Normally he hated doing it, but in his current mood, he had to admit he would probably enjoy it. Pete rubbed his tired eyes and pulled out a cigarette and lit up. The cab driver swirved and started yelling at him in some language he couldn't understand. "Oy, mate, it just a cig, give a bloke a bloody break would ya? I have a fucking addiction. It's a medical condition!"
The cab driver would have none of it and pulled over, shouting, what Pete could only guess was for him to get out. Pete heaved a sigh and pulled himself out of the cab and retrieved his luggage from the trunk, before throwing a couple of pounds into the cabbies window.
"Real money! I only take real money," the cabbie shouted out at Pete.
"Go fuck yourself, that is real money," he replied with his cigarette hanging out of his mouth, throwing up two fingers.
Suddenly a overly colorful, longhaired American walked by, laughing, "Oh yeah dude! Peace to you too!"
"Bloody fucking Americans, bunch of bleeding toerags. We were lucky to have gotten rid of the damned colonies," Pete muttered picking up his bag and tossing it over his shoulder. He looked around him and realized he had no idea where he was or how exactly he was going to get to the consulate, but now that he had a cigarette, he didn't much care either.