— 1995 —

We lived in Manhattan when we were expecting our first baby. We were watching Red Dwarf on the TV when the contractions began.

We finished watching Red Dwarf then called a cab to take us to Long Island College Hospital on the other side of the Brooklyn Bridge. The hospital was just a few blocks south of the bridge so it didn’t take long to get there.

When we arrived at the hospital, the obstetrician had a rummage around and said “Nope. Braxton Hicks. Nothing happening today. Come back when you have proper contractions.”

By now, it was after midnight and it was absolutely pouring with rain. There was only one taxi waiting outside the hospital so we jumped in.

“Battery Park City!”, we said.
“Where’s that?”, he asked.
“Next to the World Trade Center.”
“Where is that?”
“Across the Brooklyn Bridge”.

Our taxi driver had just arrived from Africa and was wearing glasses made from the bottom of wine bottles. His face was pressed up against the windshield as the torrential rain beat down.

“Got it!” he said optimistically and headed for the bridge.

We didn’t get very far across the bridge when there was a gush.

“My waters broke!” whispered Mrs Clown.
“Shall we get him to turn around?”
”No. Let’s go home so I can have a shower.”

We kept quiet about the amniotic fluid and our taxi driver drove on.

Once we got across the Brooklyn Bridge, he asked again where the World Trade Center was.

“It’s that way. Two big tall towers.”

He looked at us blankly.

“Look! There they are!”

We headed for the Twin Towers but he couldn’t figure out the last bit because of the one-way system. We weren’t much help because we didn’t have a car.

Suddenly, he just stopped the car and jumped out. He ran into the road and tried to flag down a car to ask for help.

For some reason, drivers were reluctant to stop for a large black man banging on their car at two o’clock in the morning, so, after a few minutes of this, we said, “You know what. Don’t bother we’ll walk.”

We crossed West Street in the torrential rain and were instantly drenched — a frantic man and a hugely pregnant woman. We eventually made it home and Mrs Clown had her shower. When she was done, we called for another cab and headed back across the Brooklyn Bridge to have our baby.

I’m writing down some memories.
You can start at Chapter One if you like or just keep reading here.