UNTITLED CAB PROJECT, part 3

Greg's always got real-life advice for me. 'Smithy's' real name is Greg, btw. It's my third ride in his cab. Every thing's been consistent: he starts his car the moment he sees me appear from the hotel entrance, his back passenger door is still broken which means he has to open the door at the station to let me out, AND he never has any change! This time he says, "Have your children young 25 or so because, you know, you don't wanna be an old pops...well for you. You know what I mean. Older woman. All my kids are grown: I got two who are out of school; one who play basketball in Louisiana, at Southern out there and, uh. Yeah, you know. You look young, so....women sometimes have problems, you know, I'm not saying you will because you look young..."

He pauses to look out the window again. We get to a stop light and he has to stop suddenly to avoid running it. He was looking at a young woman crossing the street.
"...and, uh," he continues. "You look like you're about 23, 24. Right? How old are you?"

"I'm older than 24, Greg."

"Oh, you is? Well, I'm not gonna ask you your age because I'm from the South and I'm a gentleman. Gentleman aren't suppose to ask young ladies, er or grown women there age, you see.

Greg told me he was 45.

"You see I wanted to be a young father."

Yep, Greg, I see. I feel you.

UNTITLED CAB PROJECT, part 1

For me, a good day or a bad day will depend on what the cab I jump in to in the morning smells like.

Seriously.

If it smells like the cabbie's been smoking, the ride will be jerky and unwavering, making me completely nauseous. But, the good thing is that the guy will usually be on his cellphone for most of the trip so, how much can I really complain.

A strong cologne smell is not just nauseating, but it covers whatever smell was in there before. Take your pick: Curry rice, Golubci and/or something with ham and cream of corn. Then, I end up smelling like the cabbie's cologne and my boyfriend's look is damning: "Really? You were mad at me when I stepped out on you ten years ago in college, when we 'separated'." This cabbie usually wants to talk - to hear himself talk - and asks you questions about political issues in his country that you would never be knowledgeable about even if you knew what the hell Russian broadcasters said or by happenstance typed rt.com into your browser.

It'll feel like the day won't end if the cabbie's rude. The Ethiopian cabbie -an Ethiopian flag was somewhere on the dashboard- wanted to drop me off on the side of the road and pick up another passenger because I only asked for a $7 cab ride and he assumed that the man with a suitcase walking on the sidewalk haling a cab was going to the airport which is a $45 cab ride. Wow. "Really?" I yelled. "No, you can't drop me off and pick him up!" He started driving two miles an hour after that just to make me mad and run up the meter.

[More to come...]

Untitled Project

I've decided to write a book in small doses. Partly because it's easier to manage, plus the guarantee that I will actually finish writing it if I write a new part each day. I hope you'll read it as I write it (and hold me accountable). Look for a new portion of it each day.

For now it's called an UNTITLED PROJECT...by the end, I'll call it something else.

Rachael