wounded by a cab, recovering with a scab

Last weekend, I spent some time with my local fam' and had my first home-cooked meal since being away. It was great. Until disaster struck. Towards the end of dinner, my Granny wasnt feeling well, to the point where medical assistance was a good idea. Two ambulances arrived, and ended up escorting her to the hospital. -Everything is ok now. That woman just has far too much ambition and likes to stay way too busy; cooking tons of good food, helping kids at the juvenile detention center, and being a grandmother/great-grandmother to dozens of kids/adults.

Anyway, I ended up going home a bit early, and after arriving back at the dorm, I found myself a bit bored or rather, less-entertained. So I decided to hop on a bus to visit a friend downtown. I patiently awaited the bus, standing in the rain, until it finally arrived... And it passed me! It didn't stop! What?! Why ME?!? So, I decided to forget relying on King Country Transit for the evening and turned to my other lifeline, "Orange Cab."

After waiting for their service for at least fifteen minutes, I decided to approach a cab, awkwardly parked nearby. I told him I was going to "2300 Elliot." -If you kind of know Seattle, you have a pretty good idea of where this is. I mean, I haven't even lived here for two months, and I know exactly where it is. And most people who have been to Seattle know that Elliott is between the waterfront and Pike Place. Simple. However, this cabbie had no idea. -I guess this should have been my first clue. So as my African "friend" could barely see over the steering wheel, not that it would have helped, because he didn't know where the hell he was going, he got caught at every stop light imaginable, as he was taking all the wrong roads.

$10 more than I usually have to pay, and 10 minutes more than I usually have to ride, we finally arrived in the general area where I needed to be "dropped." -At this point, I didn't want to waste any more time or money on his bad driving skills, and just told him, "Anywhere along here is fine." He pulled over, told me the fare, and I handed him a $20. -Not a $50, or a $100, or anything complicated, a twenty-dollar bill. He didn't have enough change. So, he decided to run into a convenience store to get some change. I waited in the cab, annoyed, but patient enough. Five minutes later he returned; no change.

"I am sorry mam, let me pull in over here and check." We ended up in a big parking lot, and he walked over to the parking payment box and was gone for at least another five minutes and when he finally returned, no change, again.

I had no patience left for his chase for change and told him, "I don't want to pay for this, I am already late. This has costed me more than ever, and has taken longer than ever, please just let me go. This is ridiculous."

"I can't let you do that, mam. I am not doing this intentionally," he responded.

I didn't want him to call the cops on me for not paying a $12 cab fare, so I suggested a credit card payment. He took my card, and swiped it every way possible, even the side without the barcode. No luck. Then he tried manually entering all of the digits on my card, but forgot part of the expiration date, so he had to enter all the information again. It didn't work; operator error.

He decided to drive a little further and look for a "gas station." As most know, gas stations are few and far between in central downtown Seattle, so I directed him towards a mini-mart, and after he had driven six blocks further than my destination, he parked gracelessly, jumped out, and started running to the mart. I, too, hopped out, and followed. In the store, I saw him approaching the register with a Coke. "I have to buy something for change!" I clenched my jaw and nodded.

He turned to me, "Wait, why did you leave the car?"

"Because I didn't want to sit in it any longer. I want my change for the cab ride that I shouldn't
be paying for, right now."
"Did you lock the doors?" he inquired as if this was suddenly the most important aspect of his job; not getting people places efficiently and easily.
"NO. Its not my cab! Can I please just have my change."

And when I finally received my measely eight dollars, I began walking in the rain down an unfamiliar side street, where I saw a man urinating on a dumpster, kids smoking crack in an alley, and other unneccessary schtuff. I finally arrived at Heather's apartment, and collapsed for an episode of Alias.