Shut up and Drive

Last Tuesday evening, at the last minute, I decided to take a cab to my mother's house. Evening cab rides tend to be a little more tedious for me than those ridden during the A.M. hours.
The crazy, dysfunctional, trashy, lecherous, or geographically challenged drivers always shuttle me to my destination during the witching hour. And such was the case that night. He went on a looong diatribe about how he kicked weed, ciggies, and the sauce a looong time ago at his mother's urging. "I'm in my mid forties now," he said with a slight accent.
"I used to smoke weed aaaaaalll the time and drink a 6 pack every night. Then my mother said I needed to stop doing that. I did a lot of that in my twenties. When I was like 27 or 28. Now I haven't done that for 10 years. I don't drink at all"
"Oh" I said with dry enthusiasm as I stared out at the frigid inkiness. Considering he said he was in his mid forties, the math seemed a bit off, but whatever. I'm guessing he had a toke or a nip between his late twenties, mid thirties somewhere. In any event, I glimpsed his profile in the dark cab, noting a flash of yellow eye white thanks to a little bit of light streaming in off the slick street...
"She told me that sometimes I just need to listen to her. And I did. You know what else I did?"
I pretended not to hear the question, so I didn't answer... wrapped up in my own thoughts and need to get back on track. "You know what else I did?" he asked again. I sighed, "What?" I managed, dryly.
"I stopped hanging out with the old friends. I discovered they weren't my friends, because when I stopped smoking and drinking, they didn't want to talk to me anymore."
"Oh" I said. "That's good. Um, that you dropped your friends." I managed, rolling my eyes ... hidden by the shadows in the backseat.
"Do you drink?" Wanting the anti-vice proselytizing to end, I said with mock enthusiasm "Yup! Sometimes!" wishing for a flask filled with something potent to burn my chest, at that moment.
"I don't mind if people drink sometimes and wanna smoke. But I don't do it anymore."
"Oh" I said... dry.
"Do you smoke weed?" "I don't do drugs." I replied.
"Oh, that's good!"
"Are you cold?"
*sigh* "No. I'm fine."
"Oh, you're a real woman! Real women don't get cold!"
no answer... I merely jerked my shoulders in a careless and tight shrug.
"How do I keep from getting cold?" "What?" I asked, distracted and annoyed.
"How do I keep from getting cold? I'm still cold. And I am getting sick too."
*sigh* "Perhaps you should dress in layers and try wearing gloves. I dunno." I answered, spying his exposed hands on the wheel. I turned my gaze back toward the window, scowling. Once again annoyed at his intrusion into my Cabbies-should-be silent-and sans mindless-chatter-so-the- passenger-can think-time.
"So yes, I think it's good that you don't smoke weed. I think it looks horrible when a woman smokes. To see a woman rolling a joint or smoking a cigarette makes me think she is trash. And I wouldn't want her to be my girlfriend. I don't think it's appropriate for women to roll a joint. Do you agree?"
"It's not my place to be dictatorial to people. I think it looks tacky seeing anybody rolling spliffs." I opined.
"No" he said, "I'm not preaching, but it looks sooo tacky for a woman to be rolling a joint! Don't you agree? I don't wanna be with a woman like that."
*No answer* Shoulders jerk with a tight shrug once again.
"How do I find happiness?"
"Wha-at?!" I asked... my eyes darting over in his direction. Perplexed by this rather Special Ed-ish question.
"How can I be happy?"
I considered suggesting that he get back on the junk. Along with all the other mind altering vices he claimed to've given up, because he was being a reeeal drag during this cab ride. But instead I just shrugged and said, "I don't know. That's up to you to discover on your own."
"I have money. A place to live. A job. But I still can't figure out how to be happy."
"Drink harder booze, chain smoke, and pop anti-depressants" was riiight on the tip of my tongue. But I just shrugged.
"Maybe I could go on vacation. Take a vacation for like two weeks."
"Yup, sounds great. Umm, can you take a left here please."
And so he did. I perked up, glad that our rap session was coming to an end. "Thank you very much" I said as I handed him the fare.
"Thank you. It was nice talking to you." he said.
"Um hm." I answered, as I scrambled to get out of the car quick, fast, and in a hurry. "Take your time" he suggested. I got out with fervor.
"Byyyye" I waved as I ran up the wet driveway, afraid of being engaged again.

10 comments

  1. Anonymous4:30 PM

    Why you ain't give my man no play? BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH That sounds like quite the wild, ride home, dear.

    ;) Cat

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  2. He should of given you a discount since he talked you to death.

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  3. he seemed to have needed to talk to you right then. but crazy nonetheless. ;)

    I could totally see you there, t, you're always a wonderful writer.

    ~love
    melissa

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  4. Anonymous9:14 AM

    LOL LOL LOL...that was priceless. I must say that I too could see the whole scene just based on what you wrote. That was very funny. I don't understand why cab drivers always feel the need to talk...in the words spoken so lovely by Rihanna..."SHUT UP AND DRIVE." Too Funny.

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  5. I don't like the talkies... I guess I've watched way too many movies. The talkies are always the ones who chat chat chat nonstop, and then they kill you.

    Get some mace.

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  6. He was in serious need of burning a joint, that would've calmed him down. Damn, cab drivers are annoying all around the world, aren't they? LOL LOL

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  7. Anonymous1:52 PM

    First time coming thru...Nice blog you got here...commentary is on point!Definitely wont be my last visit!

    www.Yazmar.com

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  8. Peace Sis,

    I have a tried and true method of dispersing with windbags. Here's what you do..

    Beat them to the punch. As soon as I realize that someone is going to talk me to death I immediately turn the tables on them and talk another hole in their head. Trust me. It's NEVER failed. They lose all of their steam.

    You can thank me later.

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  9. women roll better joints, burns better. wisdom of the buzz, concluded after the pretty lady rolled the perfect fatty on a cold night for the boys. used bible paper from king james scriptures. now they swear by drug induced truth, unchallenged.

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  10. On the one hand, I wish you would have said something like, "I don't mess with drugs. Just Ketamine." Unfortunately, I fear that would have only made it worse.

    I'm sure being a cabbie makes you stir crazy, and you experienced the end result.

    Great post.

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