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Thursday, November 06, 2003

Horny Indian Cab Drivers

So, I had to venture out this evening into the cold to hit the ATM down the road and put in some money so my rent cheque doesn't bounce down the street...

Everything was fine up until after I put the money in and turned to leave. An SUV pulled up, and a drunk blonde girl fell out of the passenger side door and staggered over to the ATM.

I started to head back towards home, and another drunk person came out of the SUV. This one was male, and he was dancing.

'Hey, sthweetie! Dance with me! It's the HOMO HOEDOWN!' he shouted, as he whirled around like a maniac. I burst out laughing, because it's not every day that a flaming homosexual pops out of an SUV and invites you to dance in a Homo Hoedown with him.

I did what any sane rational person would do.

I did the tango with him around the parking lot. In the freezing cold, in the middle of the night.

Y'know, as one does.

Still laughing, I continued on towards home. A white Victory Cab cruised past me once, and I didn't think anything of it. Then it turned around and cruised past again. I quirked a brow, but kept walking.

Then it pulled up beside me. The driver said something that I couldn't quite hear, so I just smiled and made a dismissive gesture with my hand, and kept walking.

He kept following me.

This went on for a few hundred feet, so I finally stopped and said, 'What's the problem?'

The cabbie, of some Middle Eastern descent, with a very heavy accent, started blaring something at me, gesturing wildly. We were on Huron River Drive, which is a pretty busy road, and due to traffic noise and the nature of his accent, I couldn't understand a damned thing he was saying.

After about 5 minutes of him blaring and me going, 'Huh?' I finally realised what he wanted...

He wanted me to get in the cab, and go drinking with him.

Riiiiight.

I politely declined and started walking again.

He kept following, shouting out the window, 'You are sure? Have alcohol! You come now!'

I briefly contemplated concocting a story about my 7 children at home and my large angry Swedish bodybuilding boyfriend named Sven, who would surely be wondering where I was by now, and would have no compunctions about beating the crap out of a wayward girlfriend and the horny Indian cab driver that loved her...

I decided against that, though, in favor of flipping him the bird and continuing on my merry way.

I suppose the horny Indian programmers have leaked out into real life.

If you ever need a cab whilst in the Ann Arbor/Ypsi area, don't call Victory Cab. The drivers are all, based on this one experience with this one guy, pervs.

Naturally.



link | posted by Zombie at 11:41 PM |


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