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Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Taxicab Confessions

I don't understand why cab drivers feel the need to make passes at me. I also don't understand why they go through this whole song and dance to do it, too.

At first I thought I was being racially profiled as three cabs passed me by, failing to pick me up. That's not cool! So finally this cab picks me up. I'm all about making small talk with the cabbies since, honestly, what the fuck else is there to do? And honestly, sometimes it's fun when you get a gay cab driver. One time I had a gay one and he totally was all about helping my friend and I check out these boys in the cab driving next to us.

But it's a bit disturbing when they start hitting on you. This guy was making all sorts of pointless small talk, asking me where I was from, if I had a good night, etc. I decided to do the whole "phone call fake-out" thing where I check my voicemails and then desperately try to call someone just so I don't have to talk to the cabbie. Didn't work; he kept talking to me.

He started by offering me his nuts. Pistachio. I politely declined. He asked where I was from. I answered. He said he was from India. I pretended to care. He asked if I was a model. I choked on my own laughter. I purposely got dropped off a block from my building, just in case. He kept talking -- I was almost afraid he wouldn't let me leave. When I finally left, he said "give me your hand" and extended his. Not knowing what the fuck that meant, I just shook his hand and jumped out of the cab. He drove away, honking as if to get my attention again. There was no point in turning around. I was too busy thinking about how I have to get home and wash my hand.


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