The taxi gods were smiling on us as we ran out of the apartment in search of a ride to the Mandalay. Limping down the street in undone shoes and my hair partially curled in pursuit of a stern Adrian, we were picked up by a large cab that featured an entertainment system boasting not one but two LCD screens. We were treated with a Michael Jackson DVD and relived such hits as Thriller, Beat It and Bad. While I watched these childhood classics, I mentally noted some of the dance moves to break out, myself, on the reception dance floor and I believe music video choreography has never been and never will be as good the King of Pop’s efforts in the late eighties/early nineties.
The experience almost made it worth being fleeced by the cab driver of forty dollars.
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