Confessions of A Naughty Girl

My Cab Driver Thinks I'm A Ho

If a tall, young-looking Russian guy driving a Wolley cab #5857 asks you if I have a boyfriend, the answer is yes, and my boyfriend's name is John. At least that's what I told him.

On Friday, I was in a rush to the dry cleaners, since I had...well, little to no work clothes left in the closet, and the dry cleaners closes at 7. So when I left work at 6:20 pm on Friday night, I had no choice but to take a cab home. After getting into the fateful Wolley #5857, as I was getting ready to put the earbuds of my iPod in and listen to some very loud Soundgarden "Burden in My Hand" (guns and empathy seemed to be a good song theme, given the week I had), the driver starts chatting me up, asking me how my week was (bad), and what I was up to that night (going to Flat Top Grille and getting a buzz from one beer, since I haven't drank in...well, a week). Mr. Russian Cabbie, the Baryshnikov of Chicago Transport, asked me for all kinds of info, as he skillfully wove through traffic and middle fingers on Lake Shore - my birthday, my likes/dislikes, etc. as if we are at some sort of Taxicab Confessions Speed Dating event. (For the record, I'm not making fun of Russians, just playfully poking fun - I love borscht as much as the next guy, I like their figure skaters and gymnasts, and my first boyfriend's family was Russian. Whenever I'd drive down to Columbus for the weekend, his mom would always give me a piece of 24K gold jewelry, talk about our impending marriage, given that my two sheep and one donkey dowry came through, and send me back home with some cabbage and a new little collection of roundheaded Russian dolls that fit one within the other. My then-boyfriend was always furious about it, but they meant well.) So Baryshnikov then asked me to cancel my plans and stay in and have dinner and a movie with him after he was off of his shift. He likes actions and comedies, by the way.

Here's the thing: nice guy, but I could barely understand a word he was saying. Also, he smiled at one point, and I'm sure that I could have flown a 767 in between his front teeth. And, he reeked of Drakkar Noir. Three things that do not exactly impress me. Although upon further review, I haven't gotten a doll collection in years, and free cab rides would be nice...

Well, obviously I thought he was kidding. So I was like, "Oh sure...I'll just call up my friend and let him know that we'll have to do another night..." And then, as he pulled up to my corner (my house corner, not one I work on, since I do not work on a corner), he said: "Okay, so how I get hold of you so we watch movie?" I replied, "Um...call me." And then I opened up the door to get out. So he says, "I don't have number." So I said, "Um...right." So he said, "You just joke with me? I serious!" So I said, "I'm sorry, I thought you were just kidding. I have a boyfriend, his name is....John." And I got out of the cab and slammed the door.

I should have told him I had a date with my maintenance man.

posted by KA @ 8:33 PM