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Send your comments to zukeb msn. There was nothing special about that Saturday night. It was hot and humid. Which made it different from the Saturday nights that were wet or balmy or icy. But the weather Nothing Special - RyRalio DJs - Nothing Special make it special. There were still people going to hole-in-the-wall restaurants that served the best tapas Őselés - Kyliga Dälen - Sátánizmus the west side; to nightclubs where women in diamonds drank manhattans and talked about the Middle East; to theaters housed in small rooms where avant-garde groups performed all-nude productions of The Lion King.
I drove my cab. I picked people up and dropped them off. I got decent tips once in a while. Everyone complained about the weather or the president or the traffic. I just drove. Nothing special. I certainly wasn't thinking about love. I wasn't thinking of anything in particular, actually. I was perturbed though. I was running late. I have this schedule, you see. It's not that strict. A cabby's schedule can't be that strict. Sometimes you'll intend on being somewhere, but you'll pick up a fare that takes you across town.
And that's what happened to me that particular Saturday night. An old guy in a wheelchair hailed my cab on the lower east side. He was headed to the upper west side. Of course. I had a heck of a time getting him into the back of the cab. He grumbled and cursed; I grumbled and cursed. I finally got him in, and once his elbows were tucked inside, I slammed the door. Then I had to struggle with the wheelchair.
Getting the chair into the trunk was harder than getting the old Nothing Special - RyRalio DJs - Nothing Special into the back seat. Once we were heading across town, I was treated to one diatribe after another.
Like I said before: complaints about the weather, the president, the traffic. He did mix it up a little; he blamed the president for the traffic and the weather for the president. I didn't exactly follow his logic. But no such luck. I had to haul the wheelchair out of the trunk, and then his ass out of the back and into the chair. My lower back was screaming at me by the time I was through. But my agony wasn't over yet. He asked me to wheel him up a ramp and into the lobby.
I almost told him to go fuck himself. But I didn't. I was a good little girl. I smiled and said "sure thing" or something equally Polly Anna-ish and pushed his creaking chair up a cracked Nothing Special - RyRalio DJs - Nothing Special ramp. I got him into the dimly lit lobby and pushed the button for the elevator. He finally told me he'd be OK from there. Then he gave me money for the fare. I smiled, feeling a little mollified. But when I got back to Nothing Special - RyRalio DJs - Nothing Special cab and counted the bills, I found a measly three bucks tip.
I cursed him. For a good five minutes. But what are you gonna Cloud 99 - Arnold Loxam - The Organs Of Thursford.
The Mighty Wurlitzer The world is made up of cheapskates. Old ones and young ones and middle-aged ones. People suck. They're evil, rotten, selfish, smelly, arrogant bastards. I really believe that. But not quite as much as I did then. Falling in love mellows you. Nothing Special - RyRalio DJs - Nothing Special grindstone of love polishes your rough edges. And makes you say poetic shit like that.
After cursing the old man up one side and down the other, I realized that I was late. Remember that schedule I was telling you about? Well, when the opera was "in da house", I tried to be there when the curtain fell. You see, operagoers were the exception to the cheapskate rule. They were usually good tippers. The "new money" did it to impress their wives or girlfriends, hoping that throwing money around like it meant nothing would be a sexual turn on.
The "psuedo money" tipped to copy either the old money or the new money, with no real idea why. The only ones I had to watch out for were the people who just went to the opera because they enjoyed it. Freaks like that were just impossible to predict. The old guy had thrown off my schedule. When I checked the clock in the dash, I realized I'd miss the opera crowd unless I really hauled ass across town.
So I drove like a maniac, dodging potholes and crashing through puddles of yellow-tinged water. When I arrived at the opera house, the lights were still on, but all I saw were the taillights of the last of the cars and cabs. I pulled up into the taxi line, optimistically peering around. After waiting five or ten minutes with no luck, I decided to circle the block, looking for stragglers. I noticed her dress first, though I'm certainly not a clothes person.
It was a deep green and it seemed to change colors as it shifted with her steps. It was satin, I suppose. Like I said, I'm not a clothes person. I can identify denim most of the time, but that's about it. Anyway, her dress was sleeveless, tight at the Nothing Special - RyRalio DJs - Nothing Specialbut with a full skirt that came down to mid-calf.
I say it was a dress, but that's like saying a Harley is a "bike" or Yankee Stadium is Various - В Ожидании Чуда. Original Soundtrack (Hybrid, Album) "ballpark". I'm talking understatement. She was wearing a gown. It was absolutely breathtakingly stunning.
I trailed behind her as she walked in and out of the light of the street lamps. I watched her ass as it swayed slightly under the shimmering gown. I felt my libido wake up, wipe the sleep from its eyes, and drink a shot of espresso. I could have watched that ass all night, but I decided to pull up beside her instead. She must have spotted the yellow of my cab out of the corner of her eye, and she gave a little jump and turned to me, raising her hand tentatively.
Now, tentative waves are rare in my business. Shrill whistles, shouts of "Taxi! I stopped anyway. After all, she already had my attention. She hesitated again, and then walked toward the car. I hit the button for the passenger window and she leaned down, but stayed a few feet from the cab.
She was beautiful.
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