So I was driving back home from a wonderful lunch at Commander's Palace today, and I happened to not make the light at Paradise and Tropicana. Since the Ghetto Sled has no air conditioning, I make it a habit of riding with the windows down.
Well, as luck would have it, there was a high-mileage Mexican gal standing on the same corner, trying to hitch a ride. Since I was right next to the sidewalk with my windows down, she thought it would be a good idea to come over and ask me for a lift.
So I'm sitting there, staring straight ahead, pretending to be oblivious, and she sticks her head in the window. Hey, can I get a ride? Making sure the door was still locked, I asked Where ya going? She replied with I need to get down to the Travel Inn on Fremont Street.
That is clear on the other side of town, and it's not like I was gonna give this chick a ride anyways, but I asked, What's at the Travel Inn?
I gotta pick up something.
This is about the time I noticed the huge scab on the side of her face and the missing teeth.
What do you have to pick up?
Something.
What is it?
Something important! Please--can you take me? If you give me a ride, I'll give you a ride later...
That's when I busted out laughing, the light turned green, and I floored it. My car may be ghetto and all, but I have my standards. I ain't ridin' that! No toothless crack ho is gonna be pollutin' my fine Corinthian leather with her nappy ass. Besides, any chick that wants to ride in my car probably isn't someone I should be associating with, anyways.
Last I saw of her, she was shrinking off into the distance in my rear view mirror, displaying her middle finger.
I sure hope she found a ride.
Mikey
1 comment:
Classic! I think that same beast was hitting on me at the Gold Spike last Wednesday. It's gettin to where a guy can't sit at a light or guzzle a 40 OZ without gettin harassed!
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