I don't know who the fuck you people are, but I think you are so cool.
I spewed nothing but frustration and self-hate on these pages for a few days last week and you showed me love. It's baffling. And each of you, in your very individual styles, basically told me that I rock and I should keep my chin up. I read your kind words through my tearful pity-party. It was so cool. And appreciated, so thanks, to all of you.
And again, sorry to those who are ignoring me.
Moving forward. Late this morning. I really don't know why I am always late...but I was standing at my bus stop for 15 minutes and realized I was going to be late, so I hailed a gypsy cab. That's about all you can get uptown anymore.
For those outside of NYC, these are hired cars (like Lincoln's) instead of yellow taxi's. Basically, it's illegal for them to pick up people off the street. Some of these guys are immigrants just driving their own cars and some of these cars are obviously unfit for chauffeur service and are driving on their own, pocketing the money. So basically, what I am doing is hitch-hiking. Right. Do it all the time.
Meanwhile, the bus stop regulars start giving me dirty looks as soon as my arm goes up. They hate me anyway. Except for the really old lady with the great lippy. She must be 80, but I can tell that in her day she was a partygirl - she's got that twinkle in her eye. She slides in front of me each morning and I can't help but smile, and she always smiles the same smile right back at me. Love her. And the Bjork look-a-like, because HELLO, she's a Bjork look-a-like. Who wouldn't love that? The others are bitter. I guess they wonder why I even bother going through the charade of coming to the bus stop and waiting if I am just going to get fed up and hail a taxi. But they need to get over that already.
So this guy picks me up and his car is basically duct-taped together. No shit. But what do I care, because I have about 7 minutes to travel 50 blocks and need to be on time or else.
Now, as we know, I try to be nice to everyone. So, I'm chatting with this guy, and he's quite a chatter. He's from Egypt. "How EXOTIC," I gasp, wide-eyed. He loves that. But I do think it's exotic and frankly, I would like to go to Egypt. We chat. We reach my destination. He asks me if I take taxi's from that spot often? Yes, I answer. "I pick you up everyday - what time?" he asked. "What?" I answer. "What time? I pick you up no problem every morning." he says, like it's the most normal thing in the world for him to volunteer to be my personal chauffeur.
Not that I mind. Because I've always felt I deserved a chauffeur. I mean I dig driving and all, but being driven opens a whole new world of possibilities. I can smoke, reapply make-up, work the radio, read - whatever.
So, "8:40AM," I tell him. Which technically, if I'm on that corner at 8:40, the bus will never get me mid-town in time and I will need his services.
I panic at his devotion. READER: Identify Partygirl pattern here: Person is nice and offers devotion, Partygirl hits panic.
I hem, and I haw. I mean, this is commitment! Before it was just catch a bus or hail a cab. Now I have to be meeting someone at a certain time - I mean this guy is COUNTING ON ME.
I tell him my schedule varies. Which it does. Sometimes when I am walking out the door I catch a glimpse of my outfit in the mirror downstairs and it's just all WRONG in which case, I have no choice but to run upstairs and completely change.
In other cases, my hair is uncooperative and I have to really do some magic in order for me to go to work.
And what if I'm not going to work one day? I can't just not show up! And leave him waiting at our corner....motor running...worried about me...wondering if I had been slayed during the night by some serial psychopath or really hot bass player (both are slayers, trust me). I couldn't.
So I'm not sure how we left it. I said I definitely wouldn't be there tomorrow. But maybe he thinks we're on for Friday?
Life is complicated.
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