WFI: Fake cabs, real Haitians.

Sometimes when I am late for work, I hop in a cab at back bay station and take it a few blocks to my work. It's only like $4, takes 5 minutes...gets me to work on time. On Tuesday most streets were coated in 3 inches of ice and slick slush and where they weren't, there was an obstacle course of mountainous snow to get there. On a day like Tuesday the walk from Back Bay to work would have taken 12 minutes or more. So, I got in a Top Cab.

In Boston, there are several cab companies: Boston Cab, MetroCab, Independent, Town Taxi etc. As a somewhat of a cab aficionado, Top Cab is always my least favorite. But in the pecking order line up, a Top Cab was the front car, so I got in. When I told him 11 Newbury Street he scoffed, "Why don't you get out and walk?" I take enough cabs to feel comfortable saying 90% of drivers are Haitian and 90% of Haitian drivers have an awful attitude. That's racist to some I'm sure, but it's just fact to me. I realize it's only a few blocks, but who cares? What does this guy know? Maybe my knee is busted? Maybe there's a hole in my shoe? Maybe I am just lazy and feel like it? He's not allowed to refuse a ride. I know this because, one time, an undercover cop lady stopped my cab and asked if I was refused a ride from another cab in front of the one I got in. She told me it's illegal for a driver to refuse a ride. Plus, when was the last time you made $6 in 4 minutes? So, I said, "Why don't you just drive? I'm late for work." He replied, "Why don't you walk there? You don't know where it is?" "Please drive." "Which way you want to go?" "I don't care which way as long as I get there on time." A few minutes later he said, "I hope you have change." I didn't respond. "Did you hear me! I said, I HOPE you have change!" I didn't say anything. Then I touched a plastic part of the partition and he turned around and said, "DON'T! TOUCH! ANYTHING!"

Well, now I was just pissed as fuck. I got out my notebook and pencil to write down his cab number and name and ID, which, to my surprise, HE DID NOT HAVE! I asked for his information. "What you need that for?" "It's supposed to be posted. I need your cab number and your license." "What for?" "That doesn't matter. I need your information. Now." Then he pulled over and said, "You pay me! You get of my cab! Get out!" "Give me your information." I kept asking and he kept saying "You pay me, you get out, you pay me, you get out." I'd had enough and I was going to be late for work, so I screamed, "GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING INFORMATION NOW!!!!!" This really pissed him off. "Don't you talk to me that way!" he yelled back at me. "Don't you talk to ME that way! Give me your fucking cab number and I want to see your fucking license. This is FUCKING ILLEGAL!"

Next, he backed up Newbury St (a one way) and drives down Berkeley and parks in the middle of the road. I repeated myself 100 times. "Give me your information now! It's supposed to be posted!" He gets his cell phone out and calls what I assume is the owner of the cab and starts angrily click clucking at him. "Get off the fucking phone and give me your FUCKING INFORMATION!" He tells the person on the phone, "I don't know what's wrong with her...I don't know." "OH YEAH?!?!? GIVE ME THE FUCKING PHONE AND I WILL TELL HIM MYSELF." I banged repeatedly on the partition: "GIVE ME YOUR GODDAMN CAB NUMBER RIGHT NOW. I NEED TO SEE YOUR FUCKING LICENSE YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!!!"

Then! He gets out of the car, comes around, opens my door, and reaches in to grab at me and I SCREAMED "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! IF YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME, I WILL FUCKING SUE YOU FOR ASSAULT MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" The people on the sidewalk in front of Valentino just gawked. I took this opportunity of him out of the car on the cell phone to get out, write down the number on the side of the cab, the cab name and call Top Cab. I explained what was happening to the dispatcher at Top Cab and he said if he doesn't have the medallion paper posted in the backseat it's not a real cab and I need to get out, not pay him, and call the police and he gave me the number to call. Meanwhile, a meter maid comes over to tell him he can't park IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET! and the piece of shit fucking fuck is telling him I won't get out of his cab and am harassing him. So, the meter maid dude comes around and asks, "Why are you giving this guy a hard time?" I got out and said, "HE REFUSED A RIDE, DOESN'T HAVE A LICENSE, AND REFUSED TO GIVE ME HIS CAB NUMBER WHICH IS" I then leaned into the cab and screamed,"FUCKING ILLEGAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK YOU, YOU FUCK!! I'M NOT PAYING YOU! EAT SHIT AND FUCK OFF!" I slammed the door and walked away, noticing I had gathered a small crowd.

I ran to work and ended up getting there on time. I called the police, described what happened, she looked up the information I gave her, and asked for a description. I wanted to say he was a stout BAD WORD with shit for brains in a black fleece with a tan knit cap, but instead, I said he was african american, short, stocky, no facial hair, no glasses, with a black fleece and a tan knit cap. She said, great, that's all we need, I'll put the word out and we'll suspend him right away.

I've never felt so exhilarated in my lifetime. I felt amazing! The whole time I was thinking, 'what is wrong with me? let this go! you never do anything like this! where is this coming from?' I was having uncontrollable rage. And I've never felt better in my life.


SO! I've decided to become a serial, albeit selective, complainer! When shit is going down and I would otherwise hold it in and fuss and fume internally and mentally write caustic editor's letters, I am instead, going to go straight to the top and let the fuckers know what Meghan thinks! Just this morning, when I ran down a flight of slick steps in plain view of the front car train conductor only to get to the 1st door and, as he closed them, get my jacket sleeve caught in the door! I pulled it out and banged on the door trying to get his attention, but the train just pulled away, leaving me in the freezing dust. So, what did I do? Did I get pissed and imagine my email to the MBTA? Did I have fake conversations about my train incident with fake clients? No. I walked over to the train map and dialed the customer service number, waited on hold for 10 minutes and told the dude I had a suggestion for the orange line. OK, what is the suggestion. I suggest train conductors NOT pull away with someone's clothing caught in the doors. He said he agreed, got all the timing info, exactly what happened, my information and promised to address the issue across the board with all train conductors. YES! VICTORY!

So, even if these people are blowing smoke up my ass, it feels so fucking good. I don't care one bit if they are lies. I feel amazing. Like I could complain about anything and there would be someone to listen and tell me sweet little lies. Well, someone besides Sasha.

WFI: Peeing on other people.

So I went to a party last night. A bike messenger party. After a race. In 90 degree heat. I think everyone was delirious and drunk and wet with sweat. We went for a dance party, but there were other ideas in other minds.

We arrive to the loft space and wait in a line 6 deep to pee in a bathroom with no toilet paper. Thank god for coffee filters! I've only been in a comparably grimy bathroom in rest stops in Jersey. Also, they do their dishes in the bathroom sink. Ew.

Moving into the larger dance space filled with about 100 sweaty, barely clothed, well tattooed, long haired boy bike messenger bodies, we are all in the dark. I am alone then looking for Mary or Emma or Lola or Craig or just anyone I know. The music has stopped. There are minutes of nervous confusion walking through the steamy room thick with pot odor and beer sweating of all the boys, groping everyone to find people I knew. Suddenly, the lights are back on and a babe with a megaphone is announcing the drinking contest. The rules: You must drink a can of PBR in the allotted amount of time while everyone holds a shiny tarp above their heads. When the megaphone announces NEW BEER, you drink another. If you haven't finished your last one you are out. Last one standing wins $500. P.S. You must clean your own piss or puke. When it starts, it is mayhem. I run to Mary in the corner. All the boys are going crazy, yelling, drinking, throwing beer cans, stepping on them, spraying beer everywhere. It lasted about 15 minutes. That's like 15 beers. When there is a final winner, everyone who has a beer dumps it on the poor/rich guy. There is beer raining everywhere in the room and a half inch of liquid pooling on the floor. WE WERE HAVING SO MUCH FUN!!!!!!

Then the WFI/greatest thing happened. Amidst the mayhem, there is a guy in the center of the crowd who whips his dick out and starts peeing straight up in the air peeing on everyone in sight. Mary and I run into a corner and hide behind two other boys. This guy's bladder was bottomless. He just peed on everyone everywhere. Then someone pushes him away and yells at him and he stops peeing. Only moments later he begins peeing again. Suddenly a large, sexy black man runs across the room like a dark knight in shining armor and punches the kid in the face three times knocking him into the speakers and dropping the speaker into the dj table. WE WERE HAVING SO MUCH MORE FUN!!!!! Dude fucking deserved it! DON'T PEE ON PEOPLE!!!! I was nervous we were going to have a fight club moment, but Babe With a Megaphone goes over to calm down Sexy Black Guy and the crisis is averted.

After the owner of the loft mopped up the pee and beer and sweat, the lights were off again and the dance party was back on. We danced like we had never danced before. People trickled out of the room and we were soon the owners of the dance floor. We were maniacs. Maniacs on the floor. We were dancing like we never danced before. When we gave up hours later, the fun was officially over. We ARE the party and we were leaving.

Out on the street trolling for dirty, drunk boys to take home (the good ones were gone already), we met a girl named Padmani which looks nice and all but sounds like Pudmoney. She was a wasted riot. I fell asleep in the car and woke up to a dehydrated headache.

WFI: Peeing on people. BFI: Having the most fun friends.

Gem asks for help 2: electric boogaloo

gemath y: I can't get the code you typed out in our convo
gemath y: to not make a url
gemath y: I've tried spaces and . in random spots
gemath y: and it doesn't work
whiitethrash: its supposed to make a url
gemath y: but it doesn't make sense if it is a url
gemath y: because it's not one
gemath y: it doesn't link to anything
gemath y: the [code] words you want to show up
gemath y: that part
gemath y: it needs to be written code but not a link
gemath y: FIX
gemath y: NOW
gemath y: NOW NOW NOW NOW
gemath y: NOW
gemath y: NOW
gemath y: NOW
gemath y: NOW
gemath y: where the FUCK are you
whiitethrash: sorry
whiitethrash: i was peeing
gemath y: DON'T. DO. THAT.
whiitethrash: oh
whiitethrash: where i put URL
whiitethrash: you put the url to whatever you want the link to go to
gemath y: oh. my. god.
gemath y: wtf
whiitethrash: thewordsyouwanttoshowup = the words that take you to the link
whiitethrash: duh.
gemath y: what planet are you on?
gemath y: you haven't been on the same page all day
gemath y: you can't even follow along
whiitethrash: what do you want.
whiitethrash: ahaha
gemath y: I want you to learn how to read
gemath y: gemath y: I can't get the code you typed out in our convo
gemath y: to not make a url
whiitethrash: i want you to learn HTML by yourself.
gemath y: gemath y: I can't get the code you typed out in our convo
gemath y: to not make a url
gemath y: NOT NOT
whiitethrash: i know
whiitethrash: but why would you not want it to
gemath y: BECAUSE IT'S NOT A FUCKING LINK TO ANYTHING
gemath y: IT'S YOU TELLING ME HOW TO WRITE CODE
gemath y: AND IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE
whiitethrash: OH MY GOD
gemath y: IF IT IS A URL TO NOWHERE
gemath y: AND NOT WRITTEN CODE
whiitethrash: ARE YOU POSTING IT
whiitethrash: IS THAT WHY
gemath y: YES JESUS CHRIST
whiitethrash: SORRY THAT YOU DIDNT TELL ME WHAT IT WAS FOR
gemath y: FOLLOW THE FUCK ALONG
whiitethrash: I HATE YOU
whiitethrash: I HATE YOU ALWAYS AND FOREVER
whiitethrash: WELL TAKE OUT THE WORDSYOUWANT...
whiitethrash: ANDJUSTCLOSEIT
whiitethrash:
gemath y: gemath y: I can't get the code you typed out in our convo
gemath y: to not make a url
gemath y: that's the part that says I was trying to post our convo
gemath y: that part
gemath y: and then the second half of that tells you what I was trying to do
whiitethrash: i thought you messed up your english
gemath y: you need to fucking read sasha
whiitethrash: and you meant
whiitethrash: something else
whiitethrash: gem stop
gemath y: no
whiitethrash: you're being so aggressive.
gemath y: you messed up your english
gemath y: well, imagine what it's like to talk to yourself sasha.
gemath y: imagine it
whiitethrash: hahahaha
gemath y: and try not to jump out the window while you're doing it.
gemath y: also, you still haven't told me how to fix it
gemath y: and I don't want to sit around for 10 minutes while you get around to answering me either
whiitethrash: well
whiitethrash: figure it out
whiitethrash: more spaces
whiitethrash: or take out the first
whiitethrash: <
whiitethrash: or just do
gemath y: gemath y: I've tried spaces and . in random spots
gemath y: and it doesn't work
whiitethrash: [wrote the same damn code again]
gemath y: and that shows up as nothing
whiitethrash: then do
whiitethrash: [wrote more code that doesn't help]
whiitethrash: but dont close it
gemath y: I fixed it all on my own
gemath y: without your help
whiitethrash: nice.
gemath y: none of your suggestions worked
whiitethrash: fine.
gemath y: now I am going to start to breathe
whiitethrash: no
whiitethrash: dont breathe.
whiitethrash: ever again
whiitethrash: pls.
gemath y: you just want the blog all to yourself
gemath y: still, it won't post
gemath y: it won't post sasha
whiitethrash: i dont care.
gemath y: it won't post
gemath y: you don't care?
whiitethrash: whiitethrash: i dont care.
gemath y: oh
gemath y: ok
gemath y: I hope you get shoved in an oven then
whiitethrash: hhahaha
gemath y: so the post I actually wrote
gemath y: it's not very funny is it?
whiitethrash: i liked it
gemath y: but it's a good wfi
whiitethrash: yes
whiitethrash: and thats what its all about
gemath y: but do you like it because you want me to be the less funny one?
whiitethrash: meghan
whiitethrash: i have always been
whiitethrash: the less funny one

Gem asks for help.

gemath y: and now I can't right click without highlighting the whole paragraph
gemath y: wtf
gemath y: I HATE THIS BLOG
whiitethrash: [wrote an example of proper code]
gemath y: I KNOW
gemath y: I FUCKING KNOW
whiitethrash: OKAY
whiitethrash: OKAY
gemath y: I AM TRYING THAT
gemath y: OKAY
gemath y: YOU AREN'T PAYING ATTENTION
gemath y: HOW CAN WE BLOG WHEN YOU DON'T EVEN LISTEN TO ME?!?!?
whiitethrash: I DONT KNOW WHAT YOU NEED
whiitethrash: OMG
whiitethrash: OMGOMG
whiitethrash: SHOULD WE BLOG THIS?
gemath y: NO!
gemath y: THAT IS MY IDEA
gemath y: YOU SHOULDN'T DO A DAMN THING MORE
gemath y: BLOG TAKER-OVER
gemath y: ER
whiitethrash: hahaha
whiitethrash: I ONLY DO THE BLOG TO GET YOU TO WANT TO TALK TO ME.
gemath y: oh jesus christ
gemath y: don't start your poor me jew bs
whiitethrash: hahaha
whiitethrash: you better blog this whoooole thing.
whiitethrash: so everyone can see how much better you are than i am.
gemath y: stop telling me what to blog you dough
gemath y: and I am editing that
gemath y: to say douche
gemath y: ok?
gemath y: got it?
whiitethrash: ahahaha
whiitethrash: no please
whiitethrash: call me dough.
gemath y: you and katherine heigl
gemath y: doughy
whiitethrash: <33333
whiitethrash: loves.
gemath y: so, I've called you sasha on the blog
gemath y: in our convos
gemath y: should I refer to myself as Meghan or gem?
whiitethrash: doesnt matter.
whiitethrash: its not hard to sort it out.
whiitethrash: dont forget to tag it
gemath y: HOW DOES THAT ANSWER MY QUESTION!?!?!?!!?
gemath y: should I call myself meghan or gem
gemath y: jesus christ
whiitethrash: hahaha
whiitethrash: meghan.
gemath y: ok
gemath y: thank you
whiitethrash: you're welcomish.
gemath y: :rolleyes: