When Andy left us halfway through our race-to-end-all-races, it was on a cliffhanger: I was stuck on the subway at Union Square while Andy roared through Manhattan at the helm of a 702-horsepower affront to human decency. That was mean of him, to leave you hanging like that, and I apologize for his behavior. Those responsible have been sacked.
Luckily for me, the stoppage in Union Square lasted barely long enough to text Andy “I’m stuck in Union Square, you might have won this one.” By the time that text was delivered, I was on my way to our Insta-worthy coffee shop — and victory.
Or so I hoped. Andy and I had never turned on our phones’ Find My Friends function, so we had no way of tracking each other’s location. All we could do was push forward blindly, each hoping we’d be the first to arrive at the finish line.
For Andy, that meant scrambling for gaps in traffic big enough for Ram’s beefiest vehicle. For me, it meant playing various New York Times word games on my phone. Clearly, the tension was palpable on both sides of the race.
I finally emerged from the subway. When I returned to the surface world, there was no response from Andy waiting on my phone. In my mind, that meant he was still driving. Maybe I’d gotten lucky and his chosen parking garage was full. Or maybe I’d gotten unlucky, and he was merely toying with me by not even marking my text as “Read.”
It was the former. After all the tension, all the struggles, I won our race — by fifteen full minutes. As it turns out, New York City residents have already figured out the best, fastest way to get around Manhattan: Public transit.