Wisps and Cock Crushers

There was a party of 10 ladies going from one bar to another.  I had a Prius, so I got 4 of the 10.  The lady in front was exceptionally polite.  She had something small in her hand and when I asked about it, the whole car seemed to know more than I did.  A Wisp: small, portable, disposable tooth brushes.  You don’t need water or toothpaste and one end is a tooth pick!  Why did I not know about these before?!  They’re perfect for taxi driving!

When I asked about where I could get them, the lady in the front seat got a phone call and had to stop speaking to me.  The ladies in the back were engaged in a drunken conversation, so I focused on just driving.  Eventually the phone call ended and the woman said to me, “I’m sorry about the phone call interrupting our conversation.  What did you ask?”  She was so awesomely polite!  I asked where I could buy these Wisps, and she said any Walgreen’s or drug store.  That makes sense.  She then asked sheepishly, “Do you mind if I brush my teeth in here?”  I wanted to reply, “can I clone you?”  If only all passengers were this courteous!

Eventually the conversation moved on to how two men at the previous bar were hitting on the girl in the front seat.  Apparently they were her old High School teachers.  The girl looked like she was old enough to be just freshly graduated from college.  It seemed a little creepy to me, and I said so.  “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t let her have sex with anyone she doesn’t want to have sex with, I was just noticing that they were definitely noticing that she was legal to hit on now.  I’m totally her cock-blocker… I mean wing man?  What’s the female equivalent for cock blocker…?  I’m her COCK CRUSHER!  MWAHAHAHA!”

At this point I relate my recent story about “Becky the Bitch Banger.”  It seems serendipitous that we got paired up for their taxi ride.  Sweet titles are sweet.

Taking things in context

I was handed someone’s phone number again for the purposes of a date.  That’s twice in two weeks when I can’t remember ever getting one previously.  It should be good, right?  Except it was a man I picked up at the strip club, who was very drunk, and who also complained about his dramatic divorce (that was currently in progress) for most of the ride home.  He was a very nice guy and I might have liked to have called him in different circumstances, but I told him that I thought he should probably deal with his current situation before dating again.

I’m also feeling it was his desire to feel accepted by anyone, not his desire to go on a date with me that caused him to give his phone number.  It just feels so impersonal.

Bin ‘o Books

Madison has something called “Hippie Christmas.”  Almost all the leases start and end on either August 1st or 15th, and most of the population that turns over is students… who have nearly-disposable furniture and clothing.  Our streets are currently lined with disposed belongings, things that people can’t afford or can’t be bothered to move back to where-ever they’re going.  I’ve found some of my best furniture this way.  Being mobile in a cab is probably the best shopping I’ve ever done.  I’ll write more on this subject soon.

Sunday night I saw a bin full of books.  BOOKS.  Who throws out a box full of books?!  My faith in humanity was being tested.  I was on my way to a call, otherwise I would have stopped immediately to dig through it.  Eventually, several hours later, I made it back.  Half of the books had been spilled onto the grass near the bin.  When I brought my flashlight over to start browsing, my heart sank.  Such gems as “Why Men Leave” and “Bush on the Couch” (which, after looking it up on the internet, isn’t as conservative leaning as I thought it would be) were offered up next to countless self-help books.  Okay, I don’t want any of this garbage and now understand why they’re on the curb.  Later I found a nice desk-top shelving thing that I was much happier with.

Surreal

Monday night (yesterday), I had a pick up at about 3am on a street corner, kind of near the back of the Children’s Museum building.  It was a man who was acting a little drunk, who wanted to go to a nearby gas station for cigarettes and then get dropped off at his house, which was approximately two blocks away from where I picked him up.  He had a potted plant with him, and he was pretty attached to it.

Normally when someone leaves the cab at a stop or to “go inside to get money”, we ask for them to leave something in the car, something precious enough to them that we know they’ll be back to get it.  Usually this is a phone or wallet.  I was pretty comfortable accepting the potted plant as security this time.

Potted Plant Security Deposit

When my passenger came back out, he had a bag full of munchies and a 12-pack of soda.  He assured me there were plenty of cigarettes in the bottom of the bag as well.