The Lost Plum…

Coming home tonight I’m more then positive the cab driver was masturbating.  Yup, ok, he totally was.  When we’d stop at a red light, he’d lean his head back moan, and shake/move in the sense that he was totally ‘beating off”, he’d only move on when the other cars honked like crazy.

I had a $10 bill and waited till we hit about $7 on the meter and told him the next corner was great (even though I still had like 10 blocks to go) sorta dropped the bill through the glass and jumped out.

FACT: Touching yourself and driving is not safe.  

SIDEBAR: Now I’m no guy, but really you can’t wait to do something like that?

I’ve been asked many times and always have comments want to inquire about the name “Lost Plum”.

Why a Plum? And why is it Lost?

Well simple answer to a simple question. I moved here just over a year ago, to the wonders of New York City.  The typical small town girl (except I was never really small town, just from one) moves to the big bad city stories, and I just didn’t want to be another one of “those” in my blog title.  So I was thinking awake one night (which is odd cause usually  i don’t think while awake at night…..)

Although, I live here now, as much as I love this city, I will always be a little bit lost in it.  I’m not from here, and I’m not even from this country.  I’m lost in NYC: the big apple.  Now apples are big and juicy, but at the end of the day I see this city more as a sweet treat, with it’s small little treasures hiddenout there for me.  This city is a Plum. 

And hence, I’m lost in the city which is My sweet little plum, and not my big juicy apple……….. (at least until i stumble on that apple tree!)

JS: There’s a dead homeless man over there. 

ME: Yeah

(police officer kicks man)

JS: Only in New York

ME: Yeah, i know, right.  *sigh* only in new york.

So it happened like this a few days ago:

I’m heading off to a midtown (around 57 and 7th) and I’m running alittle late so I think to myself:  ”Self, just take a cab!”

I stand at my corner of 112th and Bway and wait for a cab.

Suddenly this van cab arrives and I get in.  (I hate the van cabs, there aren’t to many of them but I really try to avoid them as much as possible, they are awkward)

So I’m in the cab, I tell my driver where I’m going and he’s off. Now I don’t remember all too much about if he said anything, or how he was driving, but I do remember most everything from this point on….He turned to go through the park. Urg, I thought to myself, this is going to take forever now, why wouldn’t he just go straight down broadway, but alas, he didn’t.

We are driving through the road in the park and he starts to drive slower, and more to the center of the road. Then he slams on the breaks in the middle of the roadway.  I go flying against the seat  in front!

I am putting myself back together, when I notice something.

The door is open.

He is running away

I see him getting smaller and smaller as he takes off through the park, the cab with me inside sitting in the middle of the roadway as cars honk and try to move around me.

First thought:  There is a bomb in the cab! Fuck!

Second thought:  I don’t know the punky looking black guy doesn’t fit the ‘profile’ of a terrorist.

I am trying to figure out what to do, and realize the best plan of attack is to just pull the cab over to the side of the road (people are yelling at me by now) and get out and walk the rest of the way.  

SIDEBAR: I will admit it crossed my mind multiple times to drive the cab to 57th and leave it there, but I didn’t do it.

So, I climb my way to the front seat (this vancab didn’t have any glass yet) and pull the cab over to the side of the road way.  I reach back to the back to grab my bag, and then…

*tap tap tap* there is an officer at the window

I roll the window down.

Plum: “hello officer”  (awkward smile)

Law-man:”licence and registration for the vehicle”

Plum: “umm…you seee..i..”

Law-man: “I said licence and registration” (loudly)

Plum: “ummm….” (grabbing licence out of wallet) ”I don’t know where the registration for the vehicle would be, it isn’t mine”

Law-man: “What is this?”

Plum:  ”My licence, see it had expired, so that’s all the paper work to go with it.”

Law-man: “Get out of the vehicle”

Plum:  ”umm…ok”

Law-man: “You aren’t American”

Plum: “No I’m Canadian, I go to grad school. Would you like to see…”

Law-man:  ” Who does the vehicle belong to?”

Plum:  ”The cab driver ran away, I was just moving…”

Law-man:  ”He ran away”

Plum: “yes”  (pointing in the direction he ran in the park)

It gets alittle fuzzy here.  But:

I got fined, and had my licence taking away because I was driving a “commercial vehicle” without a licence.  I was to report to the police station on my ticket to review my file, and pick up my licence/information…blah blah blah..

So I leave in a tissy, get to my destination almost an hour late, tell my story, and trek it to the central park station (which is a trek)

I get to the station, and they were so nice to me, lead me to see these other officers in suits i might add, and we sit down to talk.  They apologize profusely about any misunderstanding and start to ask me details about my cabtastic journey.

You see:  My “cab driver” stole the cab at gun point somewhere further up town after robbing some deli, and then for some unknown reason decided to pick me up on the side.  Either to a: to make money, or b: as a hostage.  And I guess he pussied out and left me to be attacked on my own accord by the fine officer in the park!

SIDEBAR: I wonder how much my parents would pay as a ransom…hmmm…

FACT: I tell this story MUCH better in person!

When I am really old:
Yes I am going to wear tons of rings and bracelets (wait?), lots of makeup, bright green jump suits with leopard heels, never signal when driving, audition for shows like crazy, and curl my hair nice and big. BUT AT LEAST I WONT BE A BITCH!

Walking home from tonight I had the most absurd encounter with an old woman. I was walking downtown and passing the starbucks near 115th and this elderly woman is saying “excuse me where is the closest bus stop?” to me. 

I was kind of thrown off. (Thrown off in that I live in New York and I’m so used to letting random comments like “got 50 cents, or give me food, or you look hot” just pass through me.)

So I ask her the most obvious question: “what bus do you need?”
To which she responds, “Down town, they are all the same”
So I point to the 114 corner and say there is “one right there,” and start to turn to leave.  To which I get a snap of her finger with a point down to her wheeling suitcase/backpack.

“My bag, take my bag!”

Again thrown off I think why not, I’ll be nice, maybe I will make up for the fact I have not bought a ‘homeless person anything from inside the starbucks since that homeless man tried to kill me in June. So I start to walk while rolling her bag, and then:

“Slow the fuck down you stupid Moron!”

Wait! What? Did she just call me a Moron? Who uses that term anyways? So I continue to walk a little slower, it’s only a block. However, she is complaining and being the biggest bitch the whole time. 

The only nice thing she said:
“You must be a student. What are you studying?”

To which I replied Theatre, and to which she then stated:
“Oh I thought so, you look like a stupid Moron.”

She then started screaming that the bus was coming up and for me to make sure he stopped. 
My inner thought: ‘ What the hell, its like three steps the driver can see you!”
So I stand at the bus door as she is walking up (slower then all hell) the whole time calling me names and being just a huge old bitter bitch!

As she gets to the door, I say: ” Here is your bag, have a good night.”

To which she replies: ” You are fucking useless! Put it on the fucking bus!”

And then….

“I just want to let you know that I don’t even know you, and I have…”(I was going to say, ‘been nice enough to carry your bag’, until she so rudely interrupted)

” Of course you don’t know me, I don’t have useless fucking morons as friends!”

To which I calmly reply: ” FUCK YOU” and threw her bag on the bus!

To which she replies, oh wait… she just took her cane and hit me on the top of the head with it!

That is all….

Sometimes!

SIDEBAR:  If I have a scar from this cut on my forehead I am never being nice to old people again!! 

FACT: I am bleeding!

GOAL: I might also get those gold little letters that have my initials in a pretty font for the bottom corner of my glasses like my aunt Kay has.. (when Im old)