Category Archives: Incomplete

Accidental Hitchhiking

Yeah, it was an accident.

I had had a wonderful night of drinking and music and dancing, and was determined to get home despite multiple offers from friends to put me up for the night.

Earlier, I had bought a bus pass that would enable me to take the night bus home. I waited at the stop for a long time, which probably was actually just a couple minutes, and then gave up in favour of cabbing home. I waved, a large, black man pulled over and I hopped into his car.

We talked about many things, most of which I don’t remember. I think we talked about careers. I found out that he runs a renovation business.

As we approached a major intersection near my apartment, I instructed him to stop, with a view to saving a dollar or two, but he insisted on taking me all the way home. I didn’t argue but I noticed, with spotty anxiety smothered by drunk optimism, that there was no meter. When we got close to what I thought was my home, I reached into my pocket and asked how much he wanted. He was politely offended, as though, first of all, a car who responds to the UNIVERSAL TAXI GESTURE should reasonably not be a taxi, and second of all, a girl out alone on empty, dark streets at 5am still had enough wits about her to imagine this possibility. He gave me his card and told me that he just wanted to be nice, get me home safely, and hoped that I would pass on the good deed to someone else.

I smiled a lot, shut the door, waved as he drove away and immediately dialled a friend’s number. The walk home turned out to be a longer walk than I had expected because I wasn’t actually home yet.

He was a wonderful man, but this could have been very bad. I will count this as hitchhiking, but I want to do it again, on purpose. And I should probably be with someone else, next time.


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Street Poetry

By Robert Montgomery. I love when people demand to have their voices heard.

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I Want to Go to Barcelona

I’ve been thinking about it ever since I saw Vicky Cristina Barcelona. It seems like a place that would inspire great art, so I want to go there to sketch and paint (I feel like the beauty of Barcelona is too delicate for photography, for some reason). The sketching idea came from The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, when Lena is sketching an old building (in Greece, I think). She denies being an artist, and a hot boy tells her that’s exactly what she is, simply because of the words she uses to describe what she sees… or something like that.

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