The Psychic Didn’t Mention Anything About A Cab Driver
Posted By Kristabella on July 13, 2009
This past Saturday I went to the Cubs/Cardinals game with my mom. She’s a nice lady and buys tickets to Cubs games and takes me as her date. And we usually have a great time, unless she falls down the stairs and embarrasses me. That only happened once and I think that me constantly reminding her of it will make sure it never happens again. Right, mom?
My brother and his neighbor were going to be at the game too. So we made plans to meet before the game for a few beers and then hang out afterwards and drink more beers. Because what else do you do at baseball games in Wrigleyville? NOTHING, I TELL YOU!
I had a great time! I love my brother and it is always fun when I get to hang out with him sans kids. I’m so happy that we’re so close and have a good relationship.
So after the game we were out and had quite a few beers. We chatted and determined that my brother has very limited knowledge of music and if it isn’t played on this one station in Chicago, he’s probably never heard it. Which is fine because at least he’s still listening to pop music and not classical, like the old man he is.
At a little after 10, he and his neighbor Rick left to catch their train back up to the ‘burbs. Since it was late, I took a cab. I’m not that far from Wrigley, but I don’t like to take the EL later at night, especially when drunk, because that’s just asking for trouble. And I didn’t want anyone trying to steal my new purse.
So I took a cab. I’m pretty sure we all know where this is going.
For those of you new here, I seem to have some sort of connection with cab drivers. And it isn’t just in Chicago. Ask her and her, who had the pleasure of witnessing my drunken interactions with a cab driver in San Francisco last year. A cab driver that I told to take me on a date to Burger King so we could dine and dash through the drive-thru while I offered him Cheetos that I stole from a party. I’m nothing if not KLASSY, people.
Anyway, cab drivers love me for some reason. It’s like I’m the Patron Saint of Cabbies, or something. Usually it ends with them asking for my phone number, and me giving it to them, only to ignore their calls later. One time it ended with a guy asking me for a huggy-huggy. I don’t count the time I got a bump on my head when my cab driver got into an accident with me in the car. The cabbie got my number that time, but not for any good reason.
So back to Saturday. I’m feeling good, I’ve been drinking for about 9 hours and of course I’m chatty. So I start talking to this cab driver. I should point out, I never go into a situation in a cab expecting him to ask for my number. Actually, it’s quite the opposite. I’m always SHOCKED when they do. Even though IT KEEPS HAPPENING! I just am chatty, especially when I’m drunk. And once you’ve passed the 10 beer point, it’s not like you’re checking Twitter on your phone on a bumpy car trip. Unless you want to be puking in the back of said cab.
The funny thing is that my cabbie mojo has been way off lately. I’ve taken plenty of cab rides in the past few months and nothing. I talked to a nice man once, but there was no asking of the phone number. I was beginning to think I lost my luster. Thankfully, after Saturday, all is right with the world. The cab drivers of Chicago are once again in love with me. Huzzah!
I don’t remember much of the conversation with the cabbie on Saturday. I am pretty sure his name was Adnan. It was probably Adam, but I want to be like Britney and have an Adnan. We chatted about something. It’s not a long conversation. I live like 4-5 miles from Wrigley. The ride probably took 10 minutes. I’m sure I was my charming, funny self, which makes it hard for anyone not to fall in love with me.
I remembered we talked about how we were neighbors (not really. He lives close-ish to me). I think we talked about where he was from (not the US and no, I don’t remember where). I remember that I laughed, he laughed. It was a grand old time. And once he pulled up to my place, I was ready to pay my fare and be on my merry way to eating string cheese and passing out in my Cubs jersey. A typical Saturday night in Kristabellikstan.
But then he asked for my phone number. And I tried to play it off while I got my money together to pay him, joking “why would you want my number?” And then he’s all “blah, blah, you’re cute and funny, blah, blah.” So then I give him my number. BECAUSE I’M A FUCKING IDIOT!
This time I learned a little. I gave him my land line number. The one I never answer. But of course as soon as I gave him my number, he’s all “OK, I’m going to call it.” And because I AM A FUCKING IDIOT, I’m all “oh, hahahahaha, that’s my house phone.” So he says “well take my number then.” And instead of being smart and just throwing my money at him and leaving, I’m all OK! And then I reach in my purse and I remember that my phone is dead! I’m SAVED! Huzzah!
Until he says “write it down. Do you have a pen and paper?” And AGAIN, because I AM A FUCKING IDIOT, I’m all “yep! Right here! What’s your number?” And he told me and I wrote it down. Well I thought I wrote it down. Upon looking at it the next day, it’s just like three numbers and a bunch of scribbles. It looks like Skyler got a hold of my pen and wrote a soliloquy in my little notebook.
And of course Adnan called on Sunday. It figures when you meet a guy you like, you can’t get the guy to call for shit. But meet a cabbie and stupidly give him your number and he breaks all the rules and calls the next day. It’s a good thing I don’t answer my home phone. Because hopefully Adnan will give up.
I Twittered yesterday about him calling. And I wondered aloud why I am UNABLE to lie to cab drivers. Why can’t I just say “oh, I’m flattered, but I have a boyfriend”? Or “I’m sorry, I’m married”. Or “thank you, but I’m not interested”. Or “I have two cats”. Why do I feel the need to be so honest with cab drivers? I mean it is nice to be hit on, even by some weird dude named Adnan. But that shouldn’t preclude me from telling a small white lie. Should it? WHY AM I SO NICE?
And what is it with cabbies hitting on very drunk chicks? I mean, unless you take us out right then, how often are we going to wake up and think “oh, right, giving my phone number to the cab driver was GENIUS! We will be married in two weeks! Two words – SOUL MATES.”
One of these times, I’m going to get a repeat offender. That should be interesting. I’m hoping for the huggy-huggy guy. Because he didn’t ask for my number. And who doesn’t love hugs from strange cab drivers?
Now who wants to take a ride in a cab with me? Anyone?
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Oh haha! I was just thinking that exact thing…Chicago is a big city but sooner or later my dear you may come face to face with a jilted cabbie!! At that point you are going to have to make up an identical twin or something. It sounds to me like you are just such a genuinely kind person and that you can’t come up with a good lie on the spot to save you from having to give out your digits…I would just suggest having a ready-made excuse (boyfriend) so that you don’t have to keep dodging your phone (and so that you can still take cabs without fear)!
I so wish I was going to be in Chicago for BlogHer so we could hang out, drink beer, go to a cubs game and meet cab drivers. And I’m not even being sarcastic. ;(
.-= ballerinatoes´s last blog ..Grace in Small Things, Part 24 =-.
Damn! Fall down once at Wrigley and you never hear the end of it! It was those stupid teeny tiny stairs that did it….
I honestly don’t know what it is with you and cab drivers. They sure do make for some great stories though!
Wow too funny, my (future)
sister in law were talking about that just the other day. How Chicago cab drivers are very bold, she once hand one lean over the partition and touch her knee. Creepy!
You need to memorize the rejection hotline number
.-= christina´s last blog ..And so it goes =-.
I’m like catnip for bellhops. I don’t know what it is. Like you said, can’t get the guy you want to call you back, but the bellhop? Call every time. Le sigh.
.-= Just Shireen´s last blog ..The One Where I Ignore My Blog Because I’m Boring =-.
I miss taking cabs all the time. Now that I’m old and suburban, I haven’t had any good cabbie stories. I never really got hit on by them, but the joke among my friends was that I must be on some cabbie shrink list. I can’t tell you the number of completely inappropriately personal things that cabbies have told me over the years. Just a couple off the top of my head: “I think my wife is having an affair on me, but I don’t blame her because I’m here and she’s still in Poland.” and my personal favorite: “I think I might be gay. You’re the first person I’ve said that out loud to.” What the hell am I supposed to say to these kinds of things?
You should start giving out fake numbers, if you’re unable to verbally lie. A written lie is much easier, and only half untrue. According to me.
.-= Amanda Nicole´s last blog ..small graces: part 41 =-.
So THAT’S why I like you – I used to drive cab. I ran out of the Checker Cab garage up at Broadway & Lawrence. I KNEW there was a deeper reason.
.-= lceel´s last blog ..Humpty Dumpty, et al. =-.
Why not just pick up his call? Is it because he’s a cab driver that you won’t talk to him? You never know — maybe he’s a great guy!
you laugh about these stories now, but what if you really end up falling in love with a cab driver? and maybe his last name will be bacon! and he will be a sun devils fan too, and then sparky can give you away at the wedding. that would be the best wedding ever. i’m tired.
.-= Lori´s last blog ..i’m so bummed =-.
Too funny! I just had so many flashbacks.
When I was single, I had no capacity to create fictitious numbers and gave anyone who asked my actual number. The cab driver I specifically remember is the one who asked for my number and when I hesitated, exclaimed “I am not JUST a cab driver”. I felt so guilty I quickly gave him my real number not knowing whether his resume also included neurophysicist or serial killer. Then, because this was before the days of caller id, I just lived in fear of my phone for a while.
.-= diana´s last blog ..Reality television, I wish I knew how to quit you =-.
I love how “I have two cats” ranks up there with “I’m married” as a strong deterrent to someone making a move on you.
(Am laughing over here.)
.-= Angella´s last blog ..The Truth About Motherhood =-.
Too bad his first name started with A!
What is up with calling to find out if you gave him a real number? If you did give him a fake number, what’s the point of demanding the real one? Like you will think, Oh I didn’t like him enough to give him my real number but now that he has found that out I guess I will be forced to go out with him?
.-= -R-´s last blog ..Let’s Discuss =-.
dude, you should totally trade your phone number for free cab rides
.-= hillary´s last blog ..Just Beat It Beat It Beat It Beat It No One Wants To Be Defeated – Take 7 =-.
dude, i want to take a ride with you! i know i would be amazed at your mad skillz.
.-= michele´s last blog ..Jen Lancaster Book Signing! =-.
You are way too nice. Don’t you know you’re supposed to give him somebody else’s number. Never your own.
.-= Crystal´s last blog ..As Much Fun as a Broken Leg =-.
Great bag.
Seriously, you bring new meaning to “Cash Cab.”
Wrigleyville is awesome. Love me some Goose Island.
Maybe he’s a rich guy posing as a cabbie.
I know someone who got the singing cabbie in Chicago once. Thank gawd it wasn’t me.
.-= Ree´s last blog ..Honest Rebellion =-.
I have been in a cab with you! I’m disappointed that this did not happen! (Though I seem to remember the cab driver being a total dick)
.-= Rhi´s last blog ..Friday Bullets: Cabin Fever Edition =-.
At last year’s BlogHer I accidentally hit a pickup truck’s side with a cab door while drunk. The truck driver was not happy, but instead of coming after me, he went after the cab driver. After much yelling in the middle of the street the cab driver convinced the other guy the dent had been there all along. He then quickly got back in the driver seat and we sped away as he yelled at me for being an idiot. Moral of the story is that maybe you should take cabs with me so I do something stupid and the cabbie thinks you’re an idiot by association and doesn’t ask for your number.
.-= regan´s last blog ..my possibly imaginary injury =-.
I’ll take a cab with ya!