For this week’s Thirsty Thursday tale of debauchery, I didn’t have to reach too far into my bag of tricks….just as far back as my Palm Springs getaway this Memorial Day weekend. It was just me, a couple of friends, and the rest of West Hollywood.
On Sunday afternoon, after a day of lounging and drinking by a few different hotel pools, my friends and I made our way to a beer bust a few miles away. The bust was, well, kind of a bust, but we had fun anyway and had a few drinks in the process. After waiting quite a while outside for the cab we’d called, one finally pulled up into the lot. We flagged it down, and just as we were getting in, a guy jumped out of nowhere to try to get into it.
“Whoa whoa whoa!” we yelled. “That’s our cab. What are you doing?”
The man, attractive, mid-30s, apologized. “I’m really sorry. I’m in a hurry to get back downtown. Could we split it?”
“Well, maybe. What’s it to you?” asked my friend Vince.
“I don’t know….I’ll pay for the ride, he offered.” We climbed into the backseat of the cab and put on our seat belts. I turned to Vince.
“I think that’s fair.” Vince shook his head.
“You gotta do better than that.”
“Like what?” the guy asked.
“Blow my friend,” said Vince, gesturing to me.
Now, we were a little tossed, but certainly not that far-gone. Still, I looked to the guy, curious to his reaction. He looked over, sized me up, and said, “Sure!”
The driver, silent up until this point, turned around and gave us his two cents.
“I’m all for it, too! Go ahead, guys.” Off our stunned faces, we took off.
I wasn’t sure exactly how this was going to play out. I can’t say I’ve ever gotten head in in the back of a taxi. Driving my own car, in a movie theater, in a public park….uh, maybe. But this was uncharted territory.
I was in the left seat, Vince in the middle, and the guy on the right. After an awkward pause, the guy slid his hand over to my crotch.
“What do you want me to do?” Vince asked.
“Uhhh, change places please?!” They quickly switched seats, and the guy unzipped my pants and started his business. I looked up to see that the driver was fixated on his rear view mirror. Awesome.
“Enjoying the show?” I asked.
“Yes….don’t stop.” Okay, so this was already officially one of the weirder moments of my life. But the guy was also doing a really good job, so I couldn’t complain. And my friend was there, which was a little awkward. Ba dum bum.
We continued on for about a mile. The driver then received a call from the dispatcher. Apparently someone named William had called the company, complaining that his cab never arrived from that location. The driver turned around, stared for a moment, and then asked if any of us was William. My guy came up for air for a minute.
“I’m not William! Maybe YOU guys stole William’s cab. Wouldn’t that be –“
The driver turned around and cut him off.
“Um, excuse me, sir. Shouldn’t there be a dick in your mouth right now?”
“You’re right,” said the guy, and he went back to work. #bestcabrideever
ABOUT: TALES OF WEST HOLLYWOOD
Seeking a change in his life, the author moved to his own apartment in West Hollywood in 2008. The column is a look at the life of this single 30 year-old who’s enjoying his life while casually looking for Mr. Right…or Mr. Right Now.