Kenzie and I have been friends since we moved to New York City for college. During our sophomore year we were able to score fake IDs from older girls who looked like us and we decided to test them out by bar hopping on the Upper West Side. Kenzies long blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and amazing body had caught the eye of a bartender at Mod, an upper west side bar with a 1970’s theme. With attention from the bartender came free drinks for the both of us. Shots… martinis… shots… martinis, all night.
We stumbled out of the bar laughing and holding onto each other for balance. “What’s happening? I’ve never been this drunk in my life!” I yelled. Kenzie and I lived in dorms that were six blocks apart and I came up with the idea that it would be safer to take a bus uptown instead of the train. We carefully made our way to 79th street where we leaned against the bus stop and waited. We’d been there for about 15 minutes when a yellow cab sped by, slammed on its breaks and then went in reverse until it was right in front of us. I froze as the cab driver rolled down his window.
“Where are you ladies going?” he asked.
Kenzie and I looked at each other, “We’re going uptown,” I said reluctantly.
“I’ll take you!” the cab driver said, unlocking the doors.
“Nooo nooo, its okay,” I said. Then I whispered into his window, “We don’t have any caaaash.”
“Don’t worry about it baby.”
Kenzie and I exchanged glances. I knew the decision was mine, so I quickly rationalized in my head that 1.) we’d been waiting on the bus for a long time… and 2.) if Kenzie had locked down free drinks for us all night, the least I could do was get us a free cab ride home.
We hopped in. The driver asked me where I was from, why I was living in New York and how long I had been here. I answered his questions as we rode uptown. I lived on 113th and Kenzie lived on 119th, so I should have been dropped off first, but the cab driver sped past my dorm as he continued to ask me questions. He pulled in front of Kenzies dorm and before she got out, she looked me in the eyes, “callmeassoonas yougethome,” she mumbled.
We waited until she was safely inside of her building and then he turned around to face me in the back seat. “Do you want to come sit up here with me?” he asked.
“Um… I’m fine back here.”
“No problem,” he turned back around and drove me to my intersection (I wouldn’t tell him where my exact building was) in silence. “Thanks for the ride,” I said as I reached to open my door and jump out.
“Wait,” he turned around in his seat again. “I– I think you’re a very beautiful woman. I work a lot and I don’t have time to meet people but, I’m looking for someone… a companion. I would like to see you again. Can I call you?”
I didn’t know what to say. I told him that I would take his number and said that I would call. Of course, I didn’t. He was sweet, but I wasn’t interested.
I swear this has happened more times than I can count. There was a super hot town car driver in Harlem who never asked me out, but insisted that I call him whenever I needed a ride. I spent the summer of 2008 with my own personal chauffeur… it was crazy.
Oh! and remember the Dating Driveby? He was a cab driver too!
Anyway, I’m sure the foreign/cultural thing has something to do with it, because most drivers are men of color. But would say on average I get one free cab ride per year. Sometimes I’m waiting for a bus and they offer to take me. Sometimes I go to hand them cash at the end of my trip and they say “don’t worry about it”. It’s usually harmless and I’ve never felt uncomfortable. I know a chubby girl who’s been living with her boyfriend for three years and she met him while riding in the back of his cab, so as I said before, I know I’m not the only PSP that this is happening to….
Of course the whole Taxi Cab phenomenon is more relevant to Big City PSP’s but, if you’ve had similar experiences please chime in!