Cabbies Hate Me
I sweahfo the lion, the witch and that fantastic wardrobe that cabbies hate me. I just cannot win with them. I can’t even use the age old excuse and cry racism because most of the ones that treat me bad are colored. Shoot.
Remember the rest of my Cabby Chronicles to catch up on my long-standing war with cab drivers.
I am convinced that cabbies hate me. They need to admit it. It’s ok. I’m a big girl *& I can take it. They just treat me something awful. I’ont know what I did to deserve it either. Did I scratch up a cab in my past lifetime or something?
Wells, the other day it was raining cats, dogs, lions, tigers and bears (oh my!) and b*tches in Chicago. One of them days that looked like gloom and the skies were the color of dirty dishwashing liquid (or Flav’s mouth wash). Twasn’t the business.
The rain was so bad that one of my coworkers called the office to let us all know. So, I decided to just take a cab home. I didn’t feel like being bothered with walking around in the rain. Wet shoes is not what’s lukewarm in the boulevard.
I decided to call a cab company and order one so they can pick me up at the door of my gig. GREAT plan! (or so I thought). I called the cab company and they said they’d call me when my cab arrives. *cue jeopardy music* Hmm… 20 minutes go by and still no cab. I call the company: “Oh, we’re very busy. We will call you when one is on the way”.
Me: “One isn’t even on the way? Do you know how long it will take?”
Cab Co.: “No. Sorry.”
Really Cab Company??? Vague answers is what we’re gonna be on? Well I NEVER!!! (and I clearly never will). Y’all are some useless entities! So I walk my unpleased self to the street and its pouring. My leather loafers aren’t pleased. Plus, since I didn’t bring an umbrella that day, I had to use the one I found at work, which was one of those huge ones. My tiny biceps couldn’t deal with it too well. And I was leaning under the weight (clearly the gym needs to see me).
As I was walking, I saw an empty cab and I did an internal fist pump. I walked up to it and the cabbie goes “Oh, I’m done for the night.” *rolls up window*
Me: *thinking* No the h*ll you didn’t! In these tough economic times, you oughta be glad I’m tryna use you. Shoot, besides, he was African so I KNEW he was going to the northside. We coulda just ridden together and I’da flashed him a $10 or something. DAYUM! AND it was 5:30pm! What in the heck??
THIS is the point I knew that finding a cab on THAT day was gonna be harder than Hugh Hefner after popping a Blue Pill. I stand on the corner of a VERY busy street in Chicago during rush hour and waited for a cab. Did I fall and land in New York City??? Chicago cabs are never this hard to find. What the duece?
While waiting, some dude that looks like Ne-Yo’s little brother Ne-Ver stood in front of me and miraculously, a cab drove by and stopped for him. I was HEATED!
It took another 20 minutes before I was able to get a cab. Effing cabbies! And then as soon as I got a cab, I got a phone call from the cab company talmbout “We’re here!” Eff you, your mama AND the horse you rode in on. You belligerent dummies and classless wonders. RUDE AS HELL!!
Am I the only one cabs hate on?