A Very Boston Cab Ride

I went to a party on Saturday night during which occurred much Boston-bashing. What was said was mostly true, but it was said with venom and judgment and without sensitivity to my MA-upbringing.

I had much to say on the subjects at hand, but drunkenness prevented me from actually saying anything and caused me to literally just walk away.

D's tiredness prevented us from staying at the party as late as I'd have liked. D biked to the party after a show he attended, so he said "I'll race you to Williamsburg."

I waited for a cab for what seemed like an eternity and was thrilled when a van cab pulled up in front of me and said "I'm only going to Williamsburg!"

Sweet!

I jumped in and immediately knew it was going to be a Boston-like cab ride. In New York, cab drivers either talk on their cell phones or ignore you. If they do pay even the slightest of attention to you, they give you dirty looks that suggest "How DARE YOU have the audacity to ride in my cab?" In Boston I expected an interesting conversation (and the gathering of a good story) in a cab. In NY, I'm always scrambling to think of who I can call on my cell phone so as to not feel awkward for 20 minutes while being ignored.

For example, there was the time I got into a cab hysterically crying in Cambridge and received a wonderful, fatherly pep talk from the cab driver that actually made me feel better.

And there were discussions of evolution or religion or politics.

And life story exhanges.

Here - nothing. Well, I shouldn't say that. Maybe there's conversation 20% of the time.

Anyway, I got into the van and the dude was adorable. "How are you tonight, miss?" and "Are you going home or to a party?" and "What a night!"

About a minute into the drive, I received a drunk tag from former-favorite-ex-boyfriend. This was expected because former-favorite-ex-boyfriend was in the city and there was minor effort put into a meeting for drinks or meeting at the party. Former-favorite-ex-boyfriend was DRUNK. Obviously. Slurring, incoherent, not-making-much-sense. Ah! The old days!

When I finally got off the phone with him, the taxi driver was like "So, was that your ex?"

Heh. I briefly explained what was going on and gave a minor version of our history.

The cab driver proceeded to give me a pep talk about it! He said "This reminds me of my ex-girlfriend. She calls, but only when there's a problem. She'll say 'My husband is driving me crazy!'" but that's the only time I hear from her." I thought "Actually, that reminds me of me."

Amidst the pep talk, former-favorite-ex-boyfriend called again and I said "He's calling AGAIN!" "You're not going to answer it?" "No, I really don't want to." "But you should." "I don't think I should."

By this time, we were in front of my building and I'd already paid him.

He said "I really think you should call him. He probably just wants to talk to someone who knows him. I mean, you guys dated on and off for 5 years! Sometimes you just want to hear the voice of someone who knows you well."

"I don't know. I just don't think its a good idea."

"But why is he thinking of YOU when he's drinking? Why is it you? You should think about that."

"I really don't think this is a big deal."

"But really, he could call anyone. But he wants to talk to and see you."

"Yes, but neither of those things are a good idea."

Traffic appeared and the cab driver pulled over to continue his talk.

"You should give him a chance. See, sometimes, when things are bad, you want to talk to someone who knows you. As you get older, its harder and harder to be friends with girls. You know, just friends. You date, but you don't make new friends, and you don't have a lot of women who know you. I bet he just needs to talk to someone who knows him. I think he wants to talk to you because you guys used to be close. Come on, give the guy a chance. Call him back."

"Oh. Well, maybe I'll call him tomorrow when we're both sober."

"I feel bad for him. He probably just feels lonely."

"No, well, I just think he's drunk."

I wished him a good night and smiled as I got out of the cab.

How sweet.

It's funny, but I felt like, well, the cab driver exactly explained why it is that I sometimes call former-favorite-ex-boyfriend. I don't think he was right about the reasons for former-favorite-ex-boyfriend's calling me, but it felt nice to have someone understand what can motivate a good drunk tag.

I actually won the race but D got to my building's door before I did because I was sitting in the cab outside my building for 5 minutes receiving unsolicited advice from a very Boston cab driver in NYC.