So here I am, still sans a full-length mirror, eating on my living room rug (even though I have a coffee table), and with an empty room (which can either house a dining table and chairs, or a bar, or an elliptical). Living solo is fab (I think)!
Just last Friday, I took a day off to fetch my car in (gasp) Irvington after having been towed outside the Bloomfield train station. Yes, I got in a cab with this cab driver a la ghetto swagger (and that's the ghetto'est of ghetto, mind you) to get my Casper (that's my white Toyota Solara), which I thought was right in my neighborhood at first. As it turns out, it was four exits south on the GSP. Oh, and did I mention I made him (ghetto cabbie guy) stop at an ATM because I didn't have enough cab fair on me? Oh, and then I stopped at a deli because -- what?! -- I can't go to the other murder capital of the world (the first one is Newark, conveniently right next door) without a capuccino (the cheapo kind that comes out of a machine with all that artificial sweetener which will likely cause a stroke before one even gets close to being shot at in either of the murder capitals of the world).
So I'm in the cab now in designer boots (ha! did you think they were actually designer? fooled ya!), black tights, an oversized black merino wool sweater, and my eggplant handbag (my fave, my fave). Hair long, and blond, and wavy, and fake. In a town like Irvington, where I stick out like a sore thumb due to my inability to look fierce.
Oh but wait, my ghetto cabbie stopped at his house first! What'da?! So now I'm in his cab, parked in his driveway, and he's inside. As I sit there, my mind starts racing: I just know it -- this guy is getting another guy and they're going to kill me, rob me, rape me, or something! I'm not biased by any means, but when ALONE, these projections can't help but creep into brain.
So ghetto cabbie finally comes out ... And wouldn't you know, he just needed his Bluetooth.
I get to Irvington ... Ummm, there are places in the world like this?! Really?! No freakin' way! This was like being in a circus -- so many attractions, and I'm scared of all of them. And clearly, I was freaked to have to step out of the cab. My sweet cab driver (now he's sweet, no longer ghetto), was nice enough to take me right to the door and wait for me to get in safely.
So I pay. After I paid, the woman behind the counter seemed to be giving me directions: "You walk out the door, you walk down the block, and when you see the gate, that's where you need to go." What'da?! I have to WALK? As in WALK down this scary block by myself? Sure it's broad daylight, but people get mugged during daylight, too, for crying out loud!
I walk out, no mace, no cabbie, no safety ... So I'm walking ... I'm trying to put the meanest, ugliest (some might say most deformed) face I can make. If they want to mug me, maybe they'll think twice because I'm even more deranged then they are?? After an eternity, I make it down the block. I get into my Casper and I drive away.
But first, I had to stop at stop light. I look to my right and nearly 20 feet away, I see a car pull on the side of the road, asking a group of guys on the street corner for directions. Doh, not directions. I saw an exchange! I looked away quickly -- what if they shoot witnesses?! The light turns green and I see a sign for the GSP -- oh glorious green GSP sign, I love thee.