Don’t over react. That’s what I have to tell myself. I have to say that or, don’t act out the horrible scenario that is playing in your head because it never turns out well. How many times does this happen; you assume you are in the right and because of your assumption, you completely overreact on a righteous notion and then it comes back to bite you? You’re not only scarred from this horrible gash, but you’re crippled by the embarrassment.
“What do you mean, Bridge,” you ask.
Today, I was waiting for the bus for 30 minutes at the Western stop as it was pouring down rain. Of course, I was already panicked at the Western stop in the first place because my mom called me to tell me to remain alive while an alleged tornado was expected to level Chicago. Of course the only thing that leveled was my patience for this stupid bus. I decided to take a cab. In the pouring rain, I’m waving my arm frantically to any blurry headlights that showed promise of taking me home either because it was a cab, or cause it felt pity. Luckily it was a cab that pulled over and not the latter. As I’m stepping up to the cab, a man grabs the door as if he is going to get in. Immediately, my blood starts to boil and I pull one of the most wonderfully executed passive aggressive tactics; I throw up my hands, scoff and give a look of, “Hey buddy are you going to be that rude and steal my cab, because you know what, I’m not going to say anything, I’m going to stand here and scoff and wait for you to be the bigger person and grovel and my wet, wet feet. So what? What?! I could be dying of a rare face-cancer and you have the nerve to steal a poor woman’s cab,” but I never actually verbalize anything.
So after I’ve completely vilified this man, before I even have a chance to see his face, he turns to me and says, “You going north?” I say, “What?” He repeats the question. At first, I thought, “what do you care?” then I realized he wanted to split a cab. I think, “No one splits cabs.” We get in the cab, “you know, that’s what I hate about this city,” he says, “no one splits cabs.” I sat there awkwardly, wanting to apologize for my inner thoughts about him and how I had just set him up to be this cabbie terrorist who steals rides from people, pushes the elderly and knees pregnant women in the stomach. Thankfully, I said nothing of the sort. I sheepishly agreed with him saying that I had never split a cab before. I felt obligated to ask him questions, because a. I’m uncomfortable with awkward silences and b. I had to redeem myself since I had already portrayed myself as a trixie-bitch. We actually get out of a cab at the same intersection so that I can get to my apartment and he can catch a bus going in the other direction since he just went about 2 miles out of his way. I reach into my purse to get out some money and he ends up paying for a cab ride that actually took him no where near his destination. Offering him some money, he refused and said, “Thanks, I enjoyed your company,” then said, “Com’mon!” as I was taking to long to get out of the cab since I was putting my money away. He really did just yell at me. It was funny and yet, so so so weird. I was so astounded that this stranger to whom I was such a dick just paid for my cab. I guess I stood there for a second just fumbling with my bag, trying to say thanks and he said, “What are you still standing out in the rain for?” Immediately I ran across the street, almost getting hit by a car.
Moral of the story: don’t overreact… because someone actually might want to help you even though you’re a jerk and take too long to exit a cab.
Thanks, random dude. I’ll pay it forward.
