I pretty much have a love hate relationships with cab drivers. When I’m drunk I love them (most of the time) and manage to get answers to all the relevant questions in life. “What is your favorite cereal?” “If you were a porn star, what would your stage name be?”
On the other hand, I have gotten kicked out of my fair share of cabs for being “unruly.” I’m sorry, but I don’t see a sign that says scissor holds, half Nelsons or any other sweet wrestling move is not allowed.
Or vomiting, for that matter.
So it’s a Thursday night and I had gone to see a concert at the Double Door with some friends. I had the next day off work, so proceeded to polish off my fair share of beer, capping the night off with a few shots of Jameson.
As an FYI, I don’t do shots of Jameson. Or any other sort of whiskey. We are not friends.
The concert ends, I flag down a cab and am off on the way to home sweet home. As we begin our journey I have the irresistible urge for a cigarette. In my opinion, the best addition to any drunken night is a cigarette.
Or a burrito.
Or 80s music.
Or a donkey.
Or a midget.
(Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.)
I decided to ask Mr. Cab Driver if he has any cigarettes for me. He replies that is no problem at all, but would prefer if I sat in the front seat while I smoke. I’m drunk and don’t really think anything of this request. I was just excited that I was getting two steps closer to lung cancer. It will be a great addition to my impending cirrhosis! He pulls over and I climb into the front seat. The fast movements did require some lung capacity, so I was breathing pretty heavily at this point…and sweating.
I happily lit my mooched cigarette and we continued on our way. Strangely, this is the point of the night that gets a little hazy. I blame the Jameson. I’m going to assume there was some leering on his part. But what I do recall is his attempt to get my phone number. I should also tell you Mr. Cab Driver is probably in his late 50s and from another country (although I was too drunk to remember which one).
Fast forward to the next day. I was going to a Cubs game with my brother. He arrived while I was getting ready and I heard him shout to me, “Who is Ed Ferrrrrrdvis?”
I, of course, have no idea and ask him why. He responded, “Cause his phone number is sitting on your table.” I quickly rewind the details of the night and remember the creepy cab ride, and I tell him it must be the cab driver’s number. My brother found it hilarious that I got my cab driver’s phone number and teased me relentlessly for the rest of the day. Knowing how non-confrontational I can be, I’m not surprised that instead of telling my 50+ foreign cab driver I wasn’t interested, I just took his number. Sigh of relief I was not stupid enough to give him mine!
Fast forward to Sunday. I get a call from a strange number. Normally I screen but I had recently broken my cell phone and had lost a lot of numbers. So I answer assuming it is someone I know. “Hello, this is Ed Ferdvis. Do you remember me from Thursday night?”
I am in a state of shock and quickly stammered, “My cab driver???”
“Yes!” he happily responded. “I was calling because I wanted to see if you were available to go out to dinner with me sometime?”
I quickly told him that was not going to happen and hung up the phone. I proceeded to call my brother right away to see if this was a joke of some sort? He was pretty upset he hadn’t thought about pulling this prank on me in the first place.
I was drunk and gave my number to a cab driver I had no interest in AND he knows where I live.
Smart Leigh, real smart.
Moral of the Story:
Do not give your phone number to 50+ year old foreign cab drivers unless you are, in fact, interested in going on a date with them. The morals of these stories will seem pretty simple, but you have to remember you are dealing with a drunken degenerate here. A drunken degenerate with a flair for prose, I should add!
The worst part of the story is that I don’t remember the last time a guy CALLED first to ask me out versus texting me. And it had to be Mr. Ferrrrrrdvis.