Missed Connections

You picked me up--well, not you exactly, I believe his name was Kahliid Xamaqqethaqraxyz--but you scootched over and muttered, "This is bullshit!" when I got into your cab at Houston and 6th Avenue the other day. Me, lion-maned, Wet Seal-clad artist-type. You, business be-suited, Crackberry talking, derivatives-hocker.

I giggled when you said to our co-driver, "I'll throw in an extra twenty if you toss her out of the cab and get me to Wall Street ASAP." When the driver shrugged, his lovely rose colored turban wobbling back and forth just like the Christmas tree air-freshener dangling from his rearview mirror, you cursed a blue streak then turned to me and said, "Listen bitch--" and I replied, "You had me at 'bitch'."

I let my fingers play mischievously along the hem of my skirt and upper thigh as your foot pounded rhythmically against the dirty floor mat. I batted my eyelashes as your right eye twitched. I smiled with all my teeth as you snarled back at me. I mentioned something about how wonderful it would be if this transit strike led to the birth of our children as you got out your mace.

And when you practically blinded me then threw me out of the moving vehicle, the whole time me singing the words to Natasha Bedingfield's "These Words (I Love You, I Love You)", I think you forgot to give me your business card. So consider this my message in a bottle, my mean-spirited, bile-spewing fellow traveler. Just know, I'll be waiting for you in a yellow-colored chariot, waiting for further mistreatment, complete disregard of my feelings and a refusal to acknowledge my humanity. Seems like we've known each other for an eternity already...
ooxxoo
R