Good game.
July 26th, 2010 - Tyler - permalink
Saturday night I cleared a trip in Peoria Heights about a quarter til four. I was tired already, there was enough time for one or two more flag trips leaving downtown. Then I’d go home and get some sleep.
I was headed South on Knoxville toward the bright lights and hysteria. The dreaded sound of the trip phone rung over the All 80’s Weekend on 106.9. Damn it. I’d have to accept, there had been plenty of good trips thrown my way that night, no reason to get greedy and ungrateful.
Burger King on University going to Sheridan and Main. Not bad, the drop off point was only half a mile from the bars. If I hustled, there would still be time for at least one more.
The BK employee popped out of the building upon my arrival and told me it’d be just one minute. He had to get his stuff together. I kept my patience, and tried to hide my annoyance even after it took him about five to get in the cab. He explained that the dispatcher told him it’d be ten or fifteen, which is the standard estimate…I said that I understood, but really all I was thinking was “call the cab when you’re ready to leave.”
After a detour off Sheridan, he had me pull into a closed gas station at the corner to keep the meter at $9.60. He handed me a ten, and I told him to have a nice night.
The clock read twenty after four. I knew there would still be a few stragglers downtown, but the question was, would there be any tippers…any trips that wouldn’t just waste my gas and effort? “What the hell…” I said, it was worth a shot.
I bypassed the Pere and it wasn’t looking too good. Nothing I was interested in…Richard’s seemed like my last shot, but at the corner of Jefferson and Main there were three flaggers, two hot young skirts and a curly haired guy with a beard. I pulled over and they rattled off multiple drop points. First Farmington Road, past Jimmy’s, then Seven Oaks apartments on Brandywine. Win.
The one with long, dark hair asked me, “Do you like music?” I chuckled. It was the second time in my life I’d been asked that question. That’s like asking “Do you like food?” I said I did.
“Me too,” she said. I assumed she asked to imply she wanted me to turn up the radio, so I did.
“What kind of music do you like?” I asked
“Country.”
“So you don’t really then.”
The girls talked amongst themselves. They were friends, the guy was silent, he looked out the window for most of the ride. There was some debate about plans for the rest of the night. The long dark haired girl was talking to the peppy one about what to do after the ride.
“I seriously want to go home and drink,” the peppy one said.
“Well you could come over…”
“Aren’t you just going to go to bed?”
“I don’t have to.”
“Isn’t he going back to your place?”
“Him? Hell no. He’s a douche-bag. Look at him.”
“Oh…I seriously thought that was the plan.”
The guy still said nothing and I instantly hated the dark haired one. I didn’t like women who went out to dance in packs, let guys hit on them, buy them drinks, led them on, split a cab, then wished they’d found someone better, badmouthed the guy to their friends, and then hung them out to dry. I wanted someone to get laid…it reassured me. Maybe there was a happy ending for those frustrated guys at the bars once in awhile…sometimes it wasn’t just a fruitless fucking charade.
“Did you have fun tonight?”
“Yeah, I had fun tonight? Did you have fun?”
“Oh, I had so much fun.”
Smiles, smiles, smiles. Mission accomplished, girls had fun. What a fucking joke.
When we were approaching the peppy one’s house on Farmington Road I asked, “Alright, what’s the deal?”
“Ok, you’re going to drop her off, then me at Seven Oaks, then he’s going to…”
The guy blurted out some street.
“Cause he is not staying at my place.”
“Alright, what’s the deal, as far as, where this fucking house is?” I asked, because I couldn’t care less who was going where at that point.
“Oh, two more up on the left,” she said. “With the car in the driveway.”
“Ok.”
They discussed payment options and the dark haired one started harassing the guy, asking how much cash he had on him. He was defiant, and I liked him more by the second. “How much am I going to have to fucking pay?”
“I don’t have any cash on me, and she only has enough to pay to here.”
“Relax, I take credit cards.”
“Oh, he takes cards, so we’re fine. Give him your money.”
The peppy one handed me her fare and apologized there wasn’t enough for a tip. She assured me the dark haired one would take care of it. I said that was fine, have a nice night.
The guy handed me up a dollar, “Here,” he said, “that’s for the slut.”
There wasn’t any talking during the ride up to Seven Oaks. Just the eighties music playing from the speakers. They sat on opposite ends of the seat, looking out the windows. They seemed to inch closer during Purple Rain.
When I parked in front of her building I was expecting her to hand up a credit card, but instead, the guy handed me a twenty on a thirteen dollar ride, and told me to keep the change. Our eyes met for a moment, I gave him an understanding smirk and said “thanks a lot man, I really appreciate that.” He got out without saying a word to her, followed her toward the door.
“So you just assume you’re spending the night here?” she asked. He swatted her on the ass. She seemed to like it.
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