The Infamous DollarA while back I posted the count of flirtations and such that I had received. As much fun as that was, I’ve actually lost track. It’s tragic, I know. There was so much grey area that it was getting difficult to determine what would count as a flirtation. Some of them were just funny, others were a bit awkward. That’s just part of the fun of being a cabbie.
Last night I got a call to take part of a big group of people to the Hunt club. Yes, I know – the Hunt club. I always dread those because the people are generally jerks. But I figured I’d keep an open mind about it. Maybe I would get some cool people.
I pulled up at a big house party. There were people everywhere, but they weren’t the usual clientele that would be going to the Hunt club. They were all CSU students or at least that age. I guess they told the dispatch that they needed to go to the Hunt club. When I talked to them, they were apparently going to the roller skating rink.
These people had obviously been drinking and were obviously having quite a lot of fun. One guy in particular must have been having a blast because he was wearing women’s lingerie. It it was quite… well… words can’t describe it. He was a little bit hairy and was running all over the place. I just had to laugh.
After we got everyone piled into the car, we headed over to the roller skating rink. They were talking like they were going to go to the Hunt club after skating. I couldn’t quite figure it out though. The group was actually very co-ed. There were at least as many girls as guys, and all of the girls seemed like the pretty, popular types. But I figured that they just wanted to have a good time and, if they were going to drink more, the Hunt Club was right next door and was one of the few bars in the area.
I just have to point out the irony though. Believe it or not, you can actually get a ticket for biking or even rollerblading drunk, just like you can for driving a car. If you don’t believe me, just ask around. I’m pretty sure that someone within the first or second degree of your social circle has had that unpleasant realization. And here I was, taking a big group of people to the roller rink where they would attempt to skate around while tipsy.
If anyone actually attempts this, let me know how it goes. I’m now curious as to whether it makes it more fun or you just end up crashing more.
As people were climbing out of the van after we arrived at the final destination, I ran around the car to the other side to lift the middle-back seat to let the people in the very back climb out. While fidgeting with the lever, one of the girls pulled out some money and asked if she could put it down my pants.
I wasn’t quite sure how to respond, partly because that’s the first time one of my passengers has asked me that question, and also partly because my finger had gotten stuck it in the joint mechanism of the seat and was hurting quite badly. If I moved the seat forward, it pinched it even more. If I moved it backward, it pinched it even more. I’m always amazed by the little things that happen that make an ordinarily bizarre or, in hind sight, humorous situation even more random and crazy.
Another result of getting my finger caught in the seat, aside from the sheer pain of it, was that I managed to dodge the question. I actually have very good reason for not wanting her to put money down my pants. It’s the same reason that I tell people who handle a lot of cash for their job that they should wash their hands before they use the restroom. Money is dirty stuff! Who knows where that bill had been before? I could see it, as she was stretching her arm out to me, held lightly in her finger tips. Sure, her pretty smile and puppy dog eyes would have made it a very tempting offer for virtually every guy on the planet. But I knew better. That bill was obviously old and worn, wrinkled from passing hands countless times, brown, greasy, and dirty around the edges and creases. But on a more microscopic level, it was a bacteria and STD smörgåsbord of unsightliness. And the last thing I wanted to do was get an STD from some random person putting money down my pants. No thank you. Not to mention that I’m not that kind of guy :)
And so, after I finally got my throbbing finger free from the seemingly perilous trap of that was the hinge of the seat, I stepped back and let her out. She gave me the money as a tip, and smiled as she and her friends walked off to go roller skating. I wished her a good night, my finger continuing to throb, and wondered to myself if that counted as another flirtation?
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