The difference between mincing metaphors and great collage depends on the delicate overlap and separation of the many jagged pieces.

There is an old joke that puts the Pope in a limo as he gets off the plane. The pontificus maximus, having never driven himself, asks the friendly driver if he can have a go. Unfortunately, being not amongst the more athletic of vicars, the Holy See proves a holy terror on the road and is soon pulled over. The policeman is then heard to call in a reckless driving offense for a limo. Asked about the identity of the passengers, he knocks on the tinted driver’s side window, catches severe shock, and replies, “I have no idea, but the Pope is driving!”

Toss the coin once and we find a yellow cab in Columbus circle traffic. Foreward, a medallion lies bolted on the hood bearing a ribbon designed by the passenger – your writer, now a law student returning from one of many summer associate interviews in Midtown. The weather is blustery, the upholstery more than decidedly plastic, and the noise – well it is as advertised. The friendly conversation, broken by the driver’s Middle Eastern origin but patched by his enthusiasm, turns to the almost to intimate topic of life station. Meet a stranger, provide an intimate snapshot with editorial commentary about your current developmental coordinates. Those are the rules. I say I am a law student, trying to find a single desk in a big city. He says his seat is more temporary. Four months out of the year, he drives a faceless cab. This father sends the proceeds to a family he misses at home, in Egypt. He stops for prayers 5 times a day, eats well, meets friends, and finally returns from his tour to his first love. That is, theoretical mathematics. Y’see, I got in a cab with perhaps the most overqualified driver imaginable. What’s a traffic circle to a master of Diff EQ, and what would might that call to dispatch sound like?