"Taxi!"

It was a Thursday during the spring and I had been living in San Francisco for well over a year. My friends Tim and Alex had asked me to join them at a bar in the Upper Height to meet Alex's girlfriend, Ann, whom had just moved to San Francisco from Boston. I gladly obliged. I had heard a lot about Ann and was excited to meet her. Tim asked me to stop by his place after work first because he lived a couple of blocks from the bar. I went over and he made us some drinks and then we headed out to the bar.

We were at the bar for approximately one hour, or three drinks, when Alex and Ann showed up. We went through the typical introductions and I asked if they'd excuse me while I went outside to the back patio to smoke a cigarette. When I went outside there was a large group of approximately 10 or 15 people. I stood on the out skirts and lit up my cigarette. After some time I realized they were passing a joint around and when it came to the person closest to me she turned around and asked me if I wanted some. In my head: "No I really shouldn't, but thank you." Out my mouth: "Sure, thank you!". If you have read my 'Wine, Weed and Rebecca' post you know this is a bad idea. If you haven't read my "Wine, Weed and Rebecca' post well then I'm going to let you in on a bit of a secret: This is a bad idea. I smoked a couple of hits off the joint and proceded to do what I always feel it necessary to do when in such a situation which is to power smoke 5 to 20 cigarettes.

I smoke a lot of cigarettes when feeling messed up for several reasons.
A) I like to buy as much time as possible in hopes that in just a few short minutes I'll feel less…well, just less, period. This has never worked yet I tell myself it does.
B) I like to be fucked up amongst strangers because I don't worry about acting weird. Strangers have no frame of reference.
C) I like cigarettes. A lot. It's rare now a days that I smoke them (not as rare as I tell people...MITCH, but still rare) but that doesn't make me any less fond of them.

So I'm boiled as an owl as the kids say these days…and chain smoking like Courtney Love in the 80's…and 90's…and now? and one of the group members who had left the patio comes back with a Bacardi Limon visor. Two things which should have been obvious to me but weren't at this moment:

1. The visor is obviously a free promotional gift being given out at the bar with little mini shots. You know, the free shots that are called 'lemon twists' or 'lemons drops' but are really just vodka in a plastic mini cup served by not so mini boobs?
2. Free promotional visor = terrible.

"OH MY GOD, I LOVE THAT VISOR!" What? What kind of a foolhardy person loves that visor? Well apparently when I am drunk and stoned and chain smoking on a patio in the Upper Height, I do. The guy wearing the visor looked at me with great pride as if finally someone else understood just how special his new head wear was.

"Really? They are giving them out free inside,I'll go get you one!" he turned to run inside with my voice trailing after him, "Oh. My. God!!! That is so awe-some!" Was it Deidre? Was it really awesome? The boy returned with the visor, which I placed directly on my head. Sideways. And upside down. This said something...and what it said was:"Deidre Daly, you are distressing".

I decided I had had enough 'outside time' and was fine to go back in… with my new hat. It was safe to say that I left my friends as Deidre and came back as…well, a crazy lady.

"Um, what happened to you?" Tim asked, as he pushed a new drink in my direction.
"I was just smoking outside". I replied not knowing if he was asking why I took so long or if he was commenting on my general appearance.
"Weed?" Anne asked.
"Yeeees…weeeeed." I answered. How did she know?
"Oh man, I would love to smoke."

I grabbed her hand and headed straight out back telling her my tales of the visor and my 'new friends' outside and how they were 'a great group of people' and how 'they'd LOOOVE to share their weed with her'. I opened the door and everyone turned around. It was dark out there and the only light was pouring out from behind me. They saw me as a shadow. My silhouetted visor which was sideways..and upside down. Have I mentioned that? My frantic ponytails were flying out the top. Standing next to me the unknown figure of Ann. There was silence.

"Hey Everyone! It's me! Deidre Daly!" Yes I said my full name, even though I hadn't even told them my first name.
"HEY!" They all yelled back. I was with my people once again. I introduced Anne to everyone. She shared a smoke and a laugh and we returned back together. We had one more drink and Tim suggested we four go back to his place. I thought that was a splendid idea. I Took one step outside and realized I was in a bit more of a state then I had thought I was in. I let them get a couple of steps ahead of me, stuck out my hand and yelled "TAXI!". I got in and when they looked back, I was gone.

"Hello Miss, where to?" Asked the cab driver.
"The mission please, I live off of 16th". I responded while pushing into the middle seat and leaning forward to talk to the cabbie. I do this, ask Sue. The cab driver's name was Abdul, he was middle aged, overweight and middle eastern. Maybe Pakistani?
"How has your night been? Busy?" I asked.
"I just started my shift an hour ago" He replied while looking at me through his rear view mirror. "You are very beautiful" he added.
"Oh stop". But really, I WAS wearing my new head piece. The cabbie knew hot when he saw it.
"No really. You are beautiful and have a beautiful smile. What is your name?"
"Deidre Daly." Again, with the full name. "Turn Left please" I said while smiling largely and tilting my head to the side. The Pakistani cab driver made me feel like a woman. After two more directional instructions and raised eyebrows through the rearview mirror, we pulled onto my street.
"Here we are." I said as I dug into my bag for my money. I went to hand him the fare and tip. He reached back, there was no glass/plastic divider in this car, took the money...and my hand. He pulled me towards him slowly and started leaning in. Is he going to fix my visor? No. He wasn't. He was getting closer to my face and past the bubble of strangers, then past the personal bubble of a coworker, then past the bubble of a good friend, parent, boyfriend and gynocoligist. There was no denying it, he was going in for the kiss. And that was when I, Deidre Daly, paid my middle aged, overweight, middle eastern cab driver named Abdul, tipped him AND then proceeded to make out with him. He didn't even give me my money back.