The Cab Ride From Hell

First, let me say, I am not making this up. This really happened. Hand to God.

After leaving Second Job I Do for Sanity Purposes, I was not exactly a Happy Camper. My feet were tired, I was schlepping some big grocery bags, and I had a mile-ish walk ahead of me. As I was resigning myself to another twenty minutes of misery before I made it back to Chez Apartment, I saw a cab. Clearly it was a sign from God that I was supposed to Get My Lazy On, so I hailed it.

The cabbie had me about a tenth of the way home when some blue flashing lights started reflecting from the mirrors. He glanced in his rear view, peeked at me, and said, “What this mean?” I replied, “It means pull over. The police want to talk to you.” The driver replied, “I am not from this country.” His voice held no evidence of panic or confusion or anything. Totally monotone. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to tell me he didn’t grasp basics of The Police Pull Over and I should explain, or if he was lacking important documents, like say, a Green Card, or what. So I decided to play it safe and just sat there. He kept driving for another half block until he once again looked over his shoulder at me and then eyed the mirror. At this point, I realized his face was not reflecting Good Things. Just as I was about to whip out Lawyer Voice and tell him to pull the damn cab over, he hit the gas.

A block later: cue the siren.

Yep, my cabbie was trying to engage in a high speed chase down Wilson Boulevard in Arlington. Ain’t that precious?

I sat there for a moment, totally stunned and not believing this was my life. I kept wondering why there were no seatbelts, if this made me a hostage, and if so, was Little Sister prepared to identify my body after the brutal police shoot out that was sure to ensue? Plus, I was really upset that I was about to die wearing Crocs. I mean, if I was going to go out in Hot Pink Gnome Shoes, that totally would throw the concept of Universal Justice out the window. Oh, and then I started to bargain with God.

When we reached the point on Wilson where it sort of snakes to the left directly before Il Radicchio, one of my grocery bags slid across the back seat, spilled, and I realized I really did not want to die in plastic footwear. The thought was enough to bring out my alter-ego, Panicked Girl. I started screaming at the driver that he had to pull over because Angry Police are not the same as Fun Police. Hadn’t he seen COPS? It’s Iconic Television. And from the depths of memory, I started spouting the definition of kidnapping. My Torts Professor would have been proud. As the driver continued pushing 65 (which is Major High Speed on Wilson), I was desperate. So I pulled out the big guns. I told him that if he didn’t stop immediately, I wasn’t going to tip him. Apparently, “tip” is the magic word.

He pulled over.

Very Angry Policeman approached the car, gun drawn. Yeah, gun. I sat there, hands up, about to pee my law-abiding pants. No way I wanted to get shot. The Officer yelled for us to step out of the car, which I was happy to do. Except my door was locked. I yelled back that I would happily step out of the car but there was a small hitch, that I was stuck thanks to safety locks and I was just the innocent passenger. I further explained that I was totally in favor of pulling over and obeying important things like The Law and I thought the cab driver was Nutso. From that point on, things go blurry in my memory. I am told this was due to Shock.

I remember the cabbie being pulled out of the car and patted down. I remember two more cruisers arriving and a Nice Police Person letting me out of the car. At some point, somebody gathered my groceries (except my eggs and grapes, which never made it back into my bag) and gave them to me. There was the part where I told them what happened and gave them my phone number. And then I walked home. Which, I now realize, I should have done in the first place.

Oh, and my bargain with God? No more Crocs.


17 Responses to “The Cab Ride From Hell”

  1. laura Says:

    OMG. O.M.G. That is insanity. I’m hoping a significant quantity of alcohol was consumed upon arriving home. I’d need that, or a trip to the ER for some highly potent anti-anxiety meds to bring me out of panic mode.

    Oh, and Spencer’s at work all day today, so call if you’re bored!

  2. E Says:

    Promise you’ll write a book someday, please?

  3. Laina Says:

    Okay, I had a craptastic day yesterday, but this beats all. Jesus H. Criminey. I’m glad you’re okay.

  4. DCBlogs » DC Blogs Noted Says:

    […] The writer of Who Invented Roses is in a cab heading home when the blue lights of a police cruiser start flashing. The police want the taxi driver to pull over. Instead, the taxi driver speeds up, and so begins The Cab Ride from Hell. […]

  5. Tom Says:

    What was the final fare?

  6. Herb Says:

    So how much did you tip him?

  7. Patrick Says:

    Wow- I just watched Crash tonight and this sounds oddly familiar. At least we aren’t living in LA where the LAPD would of done something stupid because he wasn’t from here.

  8. Zandria Says:

    Oh, my God, that is hilarious! In a most horrible way of course, but still…what a story. Crazy!!!

  9. kjohnsonesq Says:

    E- Yeah, books is in outline/draft form. One day, if I get lucky.

    Tom and Herb – Weren’t pain and suffering enough?

    Laura – Vodka. It makes everything better.

  10. Melissa Says:

    I’m going to remember the tip thing, just in case I ever get in a similar situation. That was brilliant. And effective.

  11. pawsinsd Says:

    I think the god of “I’m so sorry, honey” invented roses and maybe Crocs as well. The problem is that you were wearing shocking pink ones instead of blending-in tan/brown ones. Your real problem is the stupid taxi driver (hope you didn’t pay him, much less tip). Not the police.

    Hot chamomile tea and a bath. Hope you’re doing ok. Dee (a WordPress blog that sent me to you).

  12. Metro Man Says:

    LMAO! damn, thats wild! The police shoulda let you kick the cabbie in the nutz.

  13. cartooncat Says:

    There is not enough vodka in the world to get you over this kind of experience…

  14. melaniam Says:

    Now you can truthfully say you live a very exciting life! But… wow, what a ride!

  15. Liz Says:

    Wow… I hate to say it, but you just made my Monday absolutely mundane by comparison. Snaps for not peeing your pants (although if you did, you had easily washable footwear on!)

    Glad you made it out alive 🙂

  16. Velvet Says:

    I would love to find out exactly why he gunned it. Cabbies are the worst drivers ever, as several have almost ran over both me and my dogs on many occasions, but seriously, did he think he’d get very far in Arlington? Damn.

  17. Xavaria Says:

    Look on the brightside – at least it wasn’t the ‘Fashion Police’ hot on the heels of your hot pink crocs. If so, they would have let the cab driver go scott-free and you’d be doing 10-20 for a major fashion felony. You’d also be banned and black-listed from every red carpet event from sea to shining sea. The grocery toting walk about was a small price to pay to escape incarceration, oui?

    Out of curiosity, how much farther away from home did you end up after the cab ride from hell?

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