So. Picked up a VERY drunk fella at Platinum84 last night and he biotched and moaned the entire trip to his house in the northern ‘burbs about how guys like him couldn’t get the strippers to pay attention…apparently strippers only like guys who give them money…for some damned reason.
I’m in the front seat TRYING not to laugh at this poor sap…until we get close to the end of the ride. Then after a bleary moment of booze induced self reflection, he has another moment of boozy self reflection.
To break up the sighing and burping going on in the back seat, I tell him that, yep, we’ve arrived and to have a great night.
“I can’t have a great night….I’m married”.
Also, nothing special about this fare other than…she talked like Boomhower from “King of the Hill”
It was like pullin’ teeth to first GET and then UNDERSTAND the address for her destination….but the “tellyouwhut” at the end of almost every UN-intelligible 8 zillion mile per hour sentence she uttered was…well, it was…priceless!
Oh, yeah, if you’re 18’ish, wearing no coats on a 27 degree Saturday night and stuff 6 people into a Toyota Prius going to ANY concerts well away from your hotel….make sure NOT to have enough money to cover the fare to said venue…and oh yeah, then 3 hours later during peak cabbie insanity (billions of bar calls)…call said cab driver back and ask him to pick you up to go back to the hotel.