Close, But No Cigar: Take II

I swear. I miss the days in New York where a cabby’s time was respected. None of this lollygagging on the side of the road, gabbin' it up with whoever's on the other end of ya phone.

And don’t get me started on the textin’ that’s making things even worse. Nearly hit a few peoples recently who just walk out into the road, payin’ no mind to what’s goin’ on around them.

What happened to the good ol’ days where you hail us down, get in, tell us where ya wanna go, and we take ya there? Life was simple. Easy. No bullshit.

But no. I had to move for my girls. College and all that stuffs. And lemme tell ya, adjustin’ to life out here on the other side of the country? Not my cup of coffee.

These California peoples are all the same.

They make you wait forever before they get inside.

It’s like they don’t care about their time or mine.

And this couple right here? Them's no different. It’s like they want to share their freakin’ life stories with me or somethin'. I’m not normally a patient guy, and as my time is actually money, so every second counts. Good thing I got the meter running.

Heh, I’m not losing a dime on these yappers.

I honk the horn to grab their attention and they both slide in. Great. Now I get to listen to a sappy conversation. “Oh, look at me. I’m so frazzled and cute. Save me!” Give me a break. Girls like that are a dime a dozen back in my city.

And that guy? Mr. Fancy Business Suit? Please. At least get the suit tailored.

Heh. Well, let’s see if we can make this ride a little interesting. At least I’ll have something to tell the girls about when I’m off the clock. They’re suckas for a cheesy cabby romance. I take a sharp corner, hoping to have one of them bump their heads, but no. I got no luck today.

Mr. Fancy Suit has to be a gentleman.

I look in the rearview mirror and see his arms wrapped around her. For apparently just meeting this morning, he moves quick!

Eh, whadda ya gonna do? I can’t drive fast enough, it seems. I look at the clock and can’t believe I’ve only been driving with these two for five minutes. Where has my life gone? I swear, another minute and three dollas later and they’ve hit the part of the relationship where they talk about their past lovers. Ain’t nobody got time for that!

Just kill me.

Ah great. Poor guy right here, he is. Already moved on from the exes and onto the sad drama of it all. Got an awesome job and lost his girl because of it. Yeah, she must have been a real winna. Cry me a freakin’ riva, son. I finally pull up to the first stop and can’t be more thankful to whoever’s up there in the sky lookin’ down on me. I don’t think I could listen anotha minute of that sappy, lovey-dovey crap.

I miss New York. The emotionless moguls I used to drive around was great. Silent and great tippas. My kind of people.

“Twenty-six bucks,” I say to them before they exit. Gotta get that money. And what do you know? Mr. Chivalry pulls out his wallet and covers the meter for himself and the broad. I pull out of there as soon as I can.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m all about happy, but when it’s so sappy and awkward and cringe like that, I don’t want nothin’ to do with it.

If I wanted to see that, I’d go to the movies.