It was a rainy day and I was parked next to the Earls Restaurant at the Park Meadows Mall. I’d just finished haggling with this Indian (Dot, not Feather) who wanted to know what my rate was to go to the airport. We’d finally settled on $70 and he asked me to wait five minutes, while he discussed something with the driver of the car he was in. Because we had this agreement to go to the airport, I passed a job that was sent to me. Of course, right after I passed the job, the Indian, (Dot, not Feather) decided he didn’t want to go to the airport. After an exchange of pleasantries, (You freakin moron, you just cost me a job!) I wiped the rain off the arm rest and settled into a good sulk.
As I sat there contemplating the different ways I’d like to kill that particular Indian, (Dot, not Feather) there was a tapping on my passenger’s side window. I looked to my right and there looking in at me was this beautiful fair skinned blond. She was wearing a low cut black dress, her hair slightly wet and the rain water shimmered on her pale skin. There was this one particular water droplet that slowly slid off her cheek and fell, oh my goodness, gently between her pale lovely breasts as she leaned on my door, bent slightly forward. My God, it was an Earl’s girl!
I fumbled with the window switch, first, like an idiot lowering the back window directly behind me and then recovering enough to finally lower the passenger side window as another little water droplet fell, oh my goodness, gently into the same lovely area. Freckles, she had freckles there in that same lovely spot. She leaned a little further forward, blinked her big blue eyes and then, her beautiful lips moved. “Are you available?” She asked.
As music from a far off fifties movie boiled in my head, Bogart I think, I answered: “Yes, Why YES!” I am available right now, today, at this very moment!” I realized I was fairly gushing.
Earl’s girl: “Great, can you take me up the street to the Metropolitan apartments?”
Of course, it was then that I remembered I was a 62 year old cab driver, sitting in a green and white car with the word “Taxi” headlined on the crest which rested on top of said car. My bubble was burst. My brain screamed: “Why can’t she be this beautiful blond that’s currently seeking therapy because she has this insatiable craving for older men, especially “62″ year old “Older” men like me?” My brain answered that little question rather quickly, “Because dumb ass, you really are 62 years old and you remind her of her grandfather, except he was better looking than you. Now open the damn door numb nuts before she drowns!” My brains nothing if not practical and brutally honest!
She got in the cab and we were off to the Metropolitan apartments just a couple of miles up the road. As it turned out she normally took the light rail after work but the rain and a lack of a jacket, “Thank you God,” inspired her to take my cab. I turned the heat on to make her more comfortable and discovered her name was Morgan. She unfortunately didn’t need therapy and she was a very nice young lady albeit, wet and dressed in the Earls girls fashion mode which was the reason this driver found himself in a fifties style Bogart dream to begin with. The fare was a modest $7. She gave me $15 and thanked me for the ride. You know, I think she actually liked me! Maybe she’ll have to call a therapist. I can dream can’t I?