A cabbie is driving by the Empire State Building one day when he's flagged down by a fellow with a neat moustache, wearing a bowler hat and carrying an umbrella. The fellow gets into the cab.
"Where to?" asks the cabbie.
"Trafalgar Square, if you please," replies the fare in a clipped English public-school accent.
The cabbie doesn't bat an eyelash. "That's fifty-percent extra for out-of-town trips," he says, "and ya gotta pay all tolls an' ferry fares."
"Very well," replies the English gentleman, and so off they go. The cabbie drives to Kennedy International, arranges the trip to London, and drives his cab into the hold of a huge auto-transport plane. All the way across the Atlantic they fly, the meter running all the while. (Fifteen cents per sixty seconds not in motion, you know.) When they arrive at Heathrow they disembark, and the cabbie drives to Trafalgar Square.
The English gentleman pays the fare and a good tip besides and disappears into the crowd. The cabbie decides that he may not ever have another chance to see London, so he'll drive around a bit before going back. While he's sightseeing, another fellow by the curb flags him down and gets in the cab.
"Flatbush Avenue, please."
The cabbie scowls back at him and shouts, "I don't go ta Brooklyn!"