The driver became agitated as soon as I told him I wanted to go to Brooklyn. He began shouting at in me in an accent that was initially difficult to understand. I knew drivers didn’t like to go to Brooklyn, but this level of anger was new to me. He waved a wad of money in his right hand as he turned around while driving to announce that he would take me to Brooklyn, but only if I agreed that he could stop first at a bank downtown to make a deposit . He repeatedly kept saying he couldn’t afford to pay a $40 late fee and that he had no time to waste. If it hadn’t been pouring, I would have gotten out of the taxi then and there, but I was inside a dry vehicle that would otherwise be unattainable under the current weather and made me reluctant to move on. Besides, I was tired.