My hands were clammy and my mouth was dry. I was so focused on the road and trying to listen to the voice spewing directions, so yeah, I was silent for the first couple of rides. I wasn’t sure if I should say something after greeting them, or just go. I headed for the destination we were both wanting, dropped them at their door step, and went on my own way.
My first ride was a couple from the building next to me, and my third ride was a sweat girl from own building I live in. She was headed for a blind date, so cute. She said the app name, I new what she talking about, but I have never heard of this app! I’m forty-something. I told her I was new in Denver and so to forgive me for not knowing exactly where I was going. She laughed and said, “You’re doing fine…I’m so nervous.”
I told her she will do fine, “Walk like you own the place.” We said goodbye.
I don’t know how many times I circled the same block looking for a group of people. They were fun, my age, and one guy was commenting that his pants weren’t skinny enough to be going to the neighborhood they were about to enter. I laughed. I immediately imagined a kid with cigarette pants, sleek shoes, a beard, and wearing a knit sweater. When they exited the car I told them to have fun, the two ladies yelled out, “We’re already having fun.” Then I heard them say how cute I was.
The drunk girls were my favorite. I couldn’t help but keep thinking back to the days when I would get shit-faced drunk, and falling from the car. Yes, three girls swung themselves into the vehicle like it was their bedroom, they hit the seats like it was a bed. Chatty next to me was hilarious and I told her she could be a stand-up. Of course she replied, “I’ve heard that, I’m from New York, Stanton Island to be exact.” She had the most beautiful natural red, curly hair. Her eye makeup was perfect, not a smudge–however, her friend who had passed in the backseat was a different case. When we arrived at her apartment she rolled out of the car and dropped to the ground. Her friends jumped and squealed, scrambled to get out of the car and to her side. She fell again behind the car, and again in her front yard.
Her friends propped her up against a tree, she leaned in and hugged it like a bear. One girl got the keys, the other went for the tree-hugger. Well, tree-hugger fell back taking out her friend, both girls splayed out on the front yard while New Yorker stood there beautiful holding the door, yelling at them to get up. I wasn’t sure if I should help, and thought twice real fast. I couldn’t stop laughing. I drove away wondering how they were going to get her up that flight of stairs to her apartment.
My last two rides were fabulous and left me smiling. I get another couple, they’re from Chicago, but had just moved here from Utah. She was going to medical school out there. She had to leave because of the culture. She said, “They have this matrimonial medical exam to make sure you’re still virgin and then they use some device that is supposed to stretch out your vagina, so the woman can be more comfortable when she is conceiving.”
My jaw dropped. I could only imagine what that device looked like, and unless it’s for kink play, why would any woman want to stretch out their love maker. I was happy that she moved here, and will not have to perform that medial exam, ever. But, I did want to tell her to look up some kink sites and she’d find out what that device looks like–and that masochists use it during play. I refrained.
My last ride was the best. Two guys, drunk and taking shit about their good friend’s girlfriend. Guy 1 said, “Dude, you’ll see, you’ll see I’m right. Even my wife doesn’t like her, she is so crazy that she named her Cray-Rae.” These guys made me laugh. “No, listen Guy 2, you will see, I bet money you will come back and tell me how right I was. She is so crazy. She talks to you like you’re stupid. She has to know everything, be right all the time–”
Guy 2 cut him off, “Yeah, we’re having a party and she was like ‘You’re inviting those people.’ When did we become Those People?”
“I’m telling you, this wedding is going to be a disaster, I mean the bride hates her and Cray-Rae is going to the bachelorette party. I bet Bride kills Cray-Rae before anyone can even get over the border.” He broke his conversation and directed it to me, “I’m sorry M’am, I don’t mean to offend you, I just, she is just super crazy, and sorry, but she is a bitch, she is full of herself, and I know I am not the smartest person, but I’m smart enough to know she isn’t either, and its so annoying.”
I told him not to stop, I had a comedy show happening in my backseat.
2 thoughts on “Cray-Rae”
This is book material. The life of a lift driver. Intended to say lift.
Each chapter could be a short story of each event. How people are the same and yet so different. Like the J Stone series. Maybe movie material!
I enjoyed reading your blog. Good work and wonderful observations. Amazed you remembered so much detail and navigating around the city.
Love always, Dad
Thanks, Dad. I’ll keep it up