Free Cab Ride
I was trying to hail a cab, rocking the homeless chic look, carrying a bunch of bags. (I feel like women with lots of bags have lots of baggage. Myself included. The day I carry one very small purse I’ll know I’ve “made it.”) Anyway - a cab driver stopped, and I launched into this big story about how I had to get to Queens but I only had $18 left on my debit card, so would he mind turning off the meter and then running my card for $18 and I would give him a few more dollars in cash, blah blah blah crazy person.
He shook his head in a way that I assumed meant no, but as I started to gather up all my parcels, he said, “Get in.” I did, and started chatting with him. I love talking to cab drivers. You hear the most amazing stories from them. He told me he was a political refugee from West Africa - that he had a son there. I asked him questions until we got to my destination, and I said, “Okay, do you want to run my card now?”
“No, it’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
He did ask me if he could email me some time, so I gave him my address, but I never heard from him. I guess he’s too busy out saving other damsels in distress!
