Part II of Day 9

It was 11pm when I drove several young dudes from the burbs to Wrigleyville in Chicago.  The entered the cab full of phrases like:

• The ladies are already at the club, bro.
• I am pumped, chicks will be drunk with Mardi Gras and all
• I'm not gonna puke tonight

About halfway there, two of the four party animals were asleep. They awoke to the sounds reverberating from John Barleycorn's.

My last customers were not really customers.  This never really happened.  If you have read the previous blog entries, you know that I am not supposed to pick up fares in the City of Chicago unless we are called.  While slooooooowwly driving down Lincoln Avenue, amongst the many bars and clubs, there was no shortage of party peoples on the street.  When two young ladies looked to hail (hale?) a cab, they caught my eye.

#1:  Are you a cab? (as she eyed the car)
#2:  There is a phone number on the window, get in.
Me:  Well I am, but ( and they enter the cab )
Me:  Um, well, it is by the mile.  This isn't a taxi
#1: I don't think this is right. We should get out.
#2:  He has a radio thing, I think its fine.  I'll call my Dad and keep him on the phone
Me: No really, you are probably safe with me ( I thought sarcasm would bring some trust to the relationship)
#1: I'll call Bob.  Oh Fake Cab Guy (me), we are headed to North and Wells.  Bob, come out with us.......well get dressed...... cmon'.
My brain:  Bob was clearly getting a booty call.  Good for Bob. 
#2: I know what is creepy about you Fake Cab Guy. You speak English and seem normal.  That is what is wrong.
#1 to #2: Bob is an ass.  I wanted you to meet him.
#2 to #1:  You just wanted sex.
#1: Well he's gonna have to wait awhile for that from me I think.
My brain: At least until you get drunk again.
That was that.  The two were delivered unharmed. 

Soon I need to share my memory of the short cab scene in the movie, Splash.