Get Out of My Dreams, Get into My Car

A little known DC fact: DC cabdrivers generally go for curly-haired, thick, black-chicks getting over a chest cold.

In the last month I've taken a few cabs . And when my drivers aren't trying to hustle me, they are coming on to me. Imagine the following being said with a thick Ghanaian or Arabic accent:

"So, is there a man waiting for you at home?"

"Why isn't your husband picking you up?"

"Are you leaving work? A good man would not make you work."

"You are so beautiful. Are you from the islands?"

"Why are you out so late? Your husband sit at home and cry why you gone."

These comments result in me talking (at length) about my imaginary boyfriend/husband/lover. I do this for two main reasons: First of all, while I might come off as a tough girl, I still can get creeped out fairly easily. So, if I get unsolicited comments like this I start to think that the cabby wants to drive me someplace that's NOT my apartment. Next thing you know, Milk Carton City. Secondly, by making up a fake man, I also get to make up a fake life which is just downright hilarious.

Here's few of my favorite Fairytale responses:

"Yes, my husband is waiting at home. He just got in from Paris. He's french. I married him so he could have his green card and we fell in love."

"My boyfriend isn't picking me up because he's sleeping. He just got back from shooting a film in NY. I can't tell you his name, but I certainly "Got my groove back." ... Diggs, I'm dating Taye Digs."

"No, I'm not leaving work. I just left the doctors. (crying) I'm pregnant and I don't know how to tell my boyfriend."

"Yes, actually. I'm from the islands but my marriage was arranged when I was very young so I grew up mostly in the states."

"I'm only allowed one night out each month. He's not crying. I made him dinner before I left and his girlfriend is there to keep him company."

Overheard in DC

#1 - This morning while I was in line at the ATM, a woman jogging by begins to scream the following at a car that was stopped at the intersection:

"OSAMA!!! You're a TERRORIST!!! YOU!!! Yes, YOU! You're OSAMA!! TERRORIST!!"

I neither know what provoked the outburst, nor do I know why the 5 policeman that monitor that particular corner did absolutely nothing.

#2 - This evening I ordered in. I go down stairs to retrieve my delicious meal and the following exchange occurs:

Delivery Man: That was YOU on the phone?
Me: Yes.
Delivery Man: You answered the phone?
Me: Yes, yes it was me.
Delivery Man: You paid online so...er um...you're password was..um.
Me: Yes, it's all there and the tip too.
Delivery Man: Great. Did you go to law school?
Me: No. Why, do I look like someone you know.
Delivery Man: No. You just sound like...you sound like you went to law school.

Read: Black girl, you sound whiiiiiiiiiiiiite.