Cab rides with Candace

 

 Candace and I have been friends for the better part of our lives, and we have had a lot of fun. We have also had some odd and downright scary experiences. 3 cab rides in particular come to mind that cover all of these bases.

 

1.       Utah- at the age of 15 we went on a road trip to Utah with our moms for my cousins birthday. We were in a gorgeous house on the side of the mountain (it was summertime) that we were sharing with pretty much everyone there. One night we were all going out for his bday and we were too young to get into the bar. My cousin, Brad, was tasked with getting us home. So he hailed a cab, threw us in the back, gave the driver money, and went back in the bar (he also did this to me in New Orleans and some drunk bitch stole my drink!). Anyway, on the very long and dark and winding ride back to the house, the driver offered us some marijuana. Being super cool girls, we obviously accepted. Little did I know, but I probably should have, this was Candaces first time getting high. She started panicking when we got back to the house (made of all windows) and we ended up sitting in the bathroom the rest of the night with her on the toilet while absolutely nothing bad happened. Fun times.

2.       Atlanta- We were on our way to a bachelorette party and decided to stop in Atlanta to hang with some friends. It was a fun night full of drinks and laughter. We got into a cab to go home and while talking to the driver a song came on. He shushed us and turned it up as loud as it would go and was belting out “hot for teacher” the whole way to our hotel. We were both so confused and amused when we got back to the hotel. Like WTF was that?!

3.       Vegas- This was from the aforementioned trip to Vegas where we were mistaken for hookers. So after drinking all day with the boys and getting kicked out of the casino, our cab ride to the airport was scary, at best. Not the actual driving part, but the cab driver himself. He was a tall, not quite heavy set man that was probably in his 60’s. He wore jeans and a white t-shirt with suspenders to keep his britches up. When we got in the cab it all felt off. He had pictures of this woman ALL OVER the interior of his cab. I mean EVERY INCH. She was beautiful, yes but this was excessive. He talked about her the whole way to the airport. He pulled down the sun visor and revealed even more pics of her. There was very creepy and intense classical/operatic music playing the whole time. He was taking us “the back way” to the airport so we were in the middle of nowhere, winding down dark streets, seeming like we were heading out in to the dessert. We tired to act like we were interested in this woman, maybe he would take pity on us if we liked her too and not murder us? He told us every detail of her life. Including the fact that he had NEVER met her. Only admired her “from afar”. We were TERRIFIED. We held hands and tried not to cry. We were so sure that that was the end to our story. It certainly felt like it. I guess if you’re going to get murdered by a creepy cab driver in Vegas it’s better to do so at the end of the trip?. At one point I closed my eyes, maybe I was praying, maybe I was holding back tears, I still don’t know. The sheer terror I felt in that moment has blocked a lot of it from my memory. But the next thing I knew, we were at the airport. We got out, got our bags, paid him and hugged each other for as long as we could.

I think the moral of this story is, don't get in a cab with me and Candace.