The ride to Scarsdale seems to take forever. She’s barely onto the Bruckner Expressway when she comes onto the scene of a massive accident involving two trucks and at least a dozen cars, and, seemingly, half the emergency vehicles in the city. Between glaring, almost blinding emergency strobes and suddenly flaring brake lights, there are uniformed officers stepping in and out of the lanes waving lighted batons, stopping traffic, waving it on. Five lanes jam down to one in the space of fifty meters. Amy’s fifteen minutes getting past the crash, another fifteen getting to Scarsdale, another five getting to her tower, parking, and riding the elevator up to her condo.