The Almost Brawl
I’m not a terribly lucky person, but this weekend some things finally went my way, and to that I say
it’s about damn time thank you.
Last weekend I had a mishap at the mall involving my eye exam. They told me said exam wouldn’t be covered by my insurance since the provider wasn’t open on the weekends. I rescheduled the appointment for Saturday only after confirming on three different phone calls that someone had been able to run my insurance during the week and it would be good to go for my Saturday appointment.
I got to my appointment Saturday, fully expecting another problem. What actually happened? They took me early and got me in and out of there in about 20 minutes. That’s how you keep your customers happy.
Next on the agenda for my Saturday was a car appointment (do I know how to have fun, or what?) Ellie (my car) had been making a high-pitched screech out of nowhere. It wasn’t happening all that often, but it was one of those “well, that can’t be good” situations that I wasn’t comfortable driving with. B came with me to the appointment and we settled down with Phase 10 and the SU game; we know how to make the best of a waiting room.
When they called my name a mere half hour later they said everything looked good; there was something the mechanic nudged back into place after being pushed around by the snow, but nothing serious. They didn’t even charge me for the diagnostics. Two for two, baby.
Saturday night B and I had a fab dinner date with delicious selections like olive tapenade and pumpkin cheesecake (to die for). After dinner my sister and I headed out for a night on the town. Shocktop was consumed, dance parties were had, and dry humping was avoided; all in all, a pretty successful Saturday night.
The end of the night was where shit fell apart; my curfew for the coach turning back into the pumpkin was just after 2pm. Drunks were out in droves and getting a cab was more challenging than trying to dance all night in stilettos (not that I was wearing stilettos; this ain’t my first rodeo). Beth and I walked to a less populated neighborhood to better our odds. I saw a taxi van pull over and a group of people getting in; another taxi pulled up behind him to try and mooch some of the group and I ran and got in. Beth was trailing behind me, and in that time a guy got in the front seat and his friend got in right after Beth.
Me: Sorry guys, ladies first.
Prick in the front seat: We’re going to insert some lame address in some lame suburb
Me: Hello? Are you really giving your address like we’re not back here? (no answer; I start to get really angry) It’s 2:30 in the morning and there’s some real assholes out there. I'm looking at two of them right now. (still nothing) Who the hell raised you? Apparently you don’t have moms or sisters or any women in your life you care about, or you’d know that you should be giving us this cab right now. Cue my dramatic exit.
That would have been so classy of me, right? In actuality, I let off a slew of "we were here first" and “get the fuck out” and fumbled with the lock before nearly kicking out the door in my fury. I sincerely wanted to spit on the seat and possibly the guy in the front, but I refrained b/c I’m a lady.
Don’t worry, we found a cab a few blocks away. It takes more than a couple of rude frat bros to stop this gal.