It's a Saturday night. March 30, 2013, to be exact. With my hair and makeup completed in old Hollywood style, I put on a fitted, stylish black dress (think Sophia Loren at Romanoff's, circa 1957)  and a pair of 6" Louboutin peep-toe pumps. I was excited. Due to work, travel and personal preference, there's months I don't go out much at all. On this particular Saturday though, I was meeting friends I hadn't seen for a very long time for a birthday celebration.

Of course there would be drinking involved so a cab would definitely be in order for the evening. Although the restaurant I was meeting my friends for dinner was only a mile away, there was no way I was going to saunter (yes, ladies, you should saunter when in aforementioned Loubies) the short distance while also carrying a bottle of wine and wrapped gifts for the party.

Cab called. I waited. 

Cab finally arrives. It's a dusty mini-van. Okay, fine. I know I felt like a queen all dolled up for the evening, but hey, I was still just a regular girl underneath...a mini-van cab would suffice. I can't get the door open. The driver, seemingly irritated by my mere presence (perhaps he's offended by well-dressed women, I think to myself) yells something about how I'm "doing it wrong!" I really don't understand what he's saying. I just know he's not speaking to me in a nice tone and his facial expression basically touted I was an idiot. I don't allow his negative attitude to affect my good mood. I'm still feeling beautiful, now teetering on my 6" heels, armed with wine and gifts I finally struggle to open the door. Place my things inside and then struggle again to close the door.  

I tell the driver the address. He rolls his eyes, gives out a huge sigh and says abruptly, "cash only!" I look at the credit card machine right in front of my face and ask him if it's broken. He repeats, "cash only!" I told him I didn't have cash and only my debit card. He says, "I stop at ATM." This wasn't the first time this happened to me in a Los Angeles cab so I wasn't too surprised. Disgusted, but not surprised. I glance at the time on my phone and know I'm close to running late (unacceptable by my standards, ever to run late) so I know I have no choice at this point but to take this cab. 

There wasn't a bank on the way to the restaurant so the driver had to go out of the way to take me to the ATM to pay him cash. Remember the door episode? I had to now go through that struggle twice (only without the wine and gifts). So I was basically going to have a higher fare now to go through this unnecessary rigamarole. I didn't plan to start my evening this way. Not at all. 

That entire cab fiasco caused me to only be a little late (which is a lot late to me) so I wasn't feeling the love for this cab service at all by the time I carefully stepped (wobbled) out in the front of the restaurant. I still tipped the driver. I can't help it. That's just my nature. Nevertheless, I was appalled at the entire incident.

Funny thing is that as the driver rudely took the cash (and tip) I walked away feeling as though he was as unimpressed with me as a passenger as I was with him as a cab service provider I was paying for. 



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