The Right of Way

So, I told someone this story today, even though it happened last week, and it's on my mind. Back me up.

For some insane reason - ok, I'm a lush- I went to the Meatpacking District with a friend last weekend to meet up with some guy she's been seeing. Obviously, she only got me over there because she supplied me with plenty of martinis through the course of the night. Otherwise, I just can't deal with that banker crowd. Too many flashbacks of college.

Anyway, at a certain point, I think she can handle being with him and his friends, so I jet and hail a cab. The cab is mine, but some lame, trendy, balding Wall Street guy gets in the cab at the same time as me and has the balls to say it's his. We fight - I'm a girl, for god's sakes, he should give it to me, and I'm all, well, I'm staying in the cab, and he's all, I'm going to Wall Street and whatever. I'm all, good god, you really are a Wall Street financial guy. I'm all, oh eff, I don't want to pay to drive from Wall Street all the back uptown, so I get out. I gave up, or maybe it's just that I didn't want to get any trendy cooties from Mr. Wall Street.

Regardless, I called one of my gay friends who was at XL and joined him there as his token fabulous fag hag. And the night ended up okay because the one straight bar-tender there kept me plied with free drinks. My main issue, though, is that Mr. Wall Street should've given me the cab, right? I'm the girl - and I was wearing stilettos that were really hard to walk in. There should be a law against assholes, especially in cabs. yeah.