Bells and whistles

On my commute most weekdays I pass a Boston hotel on the edge of the Charles River. Well, separated from the river by a highway, and bordered by an access road that runs up onto the bridge across the river that takes the traffic, the trolley, and pedestrians like me to and from Cambridge.

It's a classy hotel, I guess. It has a doorman in a long coat, and this doorman gets taxis for hotel residents. Well, I guess he does, since he has a whistle and plies it at five second intervals while waving imperiously at the highway and the access road. But I have never seen a taxi swerve out of its course in response to his calls; in fact I have never seen a taxi in front of the hotel.

There is a subway stop just across the street, but maybe the visitors are too classy for that, or are going to odd locations. But as far as I can see, they aren't going anywhere.

I can ignore the gestures, but the whistle is very demanding. Maybe I should design him a little Android application for his smart phone that will summon taxis when he needs them. And another one to play the whistle noise so the residents will know he is hard at work.

This sort of thinking gets me across the bridge in spite of the stiff northern wind.