A Final Rescue
It's been over a week since I last heard from Dara. She flaked on me again when we were supposed to do something together one night after I was off work. I got a call from her this morning asking for help. She pulled another one of those disappearing acts she's famous for and told me she needed a ride home from the city. It was a deal where she caught an out of state plane flight on short notice with her friends and now that she was back, she had no way to get home. Fuck. I decided enough was enough. I wasn't going to leave her stranded down there but I was going to make sure this would be the last time I'd get roped into a situation like this. I had a message for her that needed to be delivered in person.
Dara said she would meet me on Market street. She planned to be on a sidewalk corner in front of Burger King. I knew where it was, on the edge of the financial district. It was going to take me about an hour to get there through traffic at that time of day. What a nuisance. Just to make certain she would be there waiting for me I said if she wasn't in plain sight when I got there I would not waste time wandering around the neighborhood searching for her. By God, she had better be there or I was going to turn right around without hesitation and head home without her. Dara said she'd be there. No funny business.
I came into the city across the bridge and headed down Lombard for Van Ness. I crossed Market and made a loop around the block to drive down Market St. in the direction of our planned meeting location. Traffic was heavy and with my bad luck such as it is, I hit every damned red light at every intersection. Seems to always work out that way for me. The traffic gods hate me. As I proceeded on Market, I got stuck at an annoyingly long red light and spotted Dara standing on the sidewalk. She was wearing a frilly velvet overcoat with tight dress underneath and she had a feather boa wrapped around her neck. Dara was wearing those evil looking bitch boots of hers, and she had some neon colored ribbons in her hair. She was being surrounded by dirty bums. A whole wolf pack of bums. Something in her hands was rapidly flashing bright lights but I couldn't clearly see what it was. The stop light finally turned green.
There was no place for me to park anywhere near where Dara was, and she was so involved with the swarm of miscreants that she didn't see me driving by. I looked out my passenger side window to catch a glimpse of her making an R. Lee Ermy style war-face. It appeared she was in the midst of emitting a loud victory cry. Dara was armed with a large translucent plastic two-fisted assault raygun that she had lowered in the direction of a bum closest to her. The bum was being repeatedly zapped with flashy lights and I think, maybe some sparks were coming out of the tip of the rifle. She was thick in the heat of battle. I wished I had brought my camera.
I took the next left and drove the long block, took another left, and found a spot to park on the opposite end of the block from where Dara was. The meters raped me for my spare change and I walked from there to go fetch the crazed stripper. I walked with a fast pace because I wanted to get this over with and be back on the road right away. When Dara saw me coming towards her she bounded over to me with a shit eating grin on her face and she grabbed me by the arm. She seemed happy enough I was there. I told her there was something I wanted to talk to her about, but I would wait until we were back on the freeway heading North.
Crossing over the bridge and passing the vista point I looked at Dara and said, "I'm not your private taxi cab service. The next time you get stuck in the city, call someone else to come get you. I don't appreciate you flaking out on me and then call up expecting me to be your personal chauffer. It doesn't work that way, understand"? For the rest of the trip home Dara didn't say anything. I dropped her off in front of her place and left. I didn't have much time to get ready for work so I wasn't into dawdling around.
That was the last time I saw Dara. She never called me again.
Dara said she would meet me on Market street. She planned to be on a sidewalk corner in front of Burger King. I knew where it was, on the edge of the financial district. It was going to take me about an hour to get there through traffic at that time of day. What a nuisance. Just to make certain she would be there waiting for me I said if she wasn't in plain sight when I got there I would not waste time wandering around the neighborhood searching for her. By God, she had better be there or I was going to turn right around without hesitation and head home without her. Dara said she'd be there. No funny business.
I came into the city across the bridge and headed down Lombard for Van Ness. I crossed Market and made a loop around the block to drive down Market St. in the direction of our planned meeting location. Traffic was heavy and with my bad luck such as it is, I hit every damned red light at every intersection. Seems to always work out that way for me. The traffic gods hate me. As I proceeded on Market, I got stuck at an annoyingly long red light and spotted Dara standing on the sidewalk. She was wearing a frilly velvet overcoat with tight dress underneath and she had a feather boa wrapped around her neck. Dara was wearing those evil looking bitch boots of hers, and she had some neon colored ribbons in her hair. She was being surrounded by dirty bums. A whole wolf pack of bums. Something in her hands was rapidly flashing bright lights but I couldn't clearly see what it was. The stop light finally turned green.
There was no place for me to park anywhere near where Dara was, and she was so involved with the swarm of miscreants that she didn't see me driving by. I looked out my passenger side window to catch a glimpse of her making an R. Lee Ermy style war-face. It appeared she was in the midst of emitting a loud victory cry. Dara was armed with a large translucent plastic two-fisted assault raygun that she had lowered in the direction of a bum closest to her. The bum was being repeatedly zapped with flashy lights and I think, maybe some sparks were coming out of the tip of the rifle. She was thick in the heat of battle. I wished I had brought my camera.
I took the next left and drove the long block, took another left, and found a spot to park on the opposite end of the block from where Dara was. The meters raped me for my spare change and I walked from there to go fetch the crazed stripper. I walked with a fast pace because I wanted to get this over with and be back on the road right away. When Dara saw me coming towards her she bounded over to me with a shit eating grin on her face and she grabbed me by the arm. She seemed happy enough I was there. I told her there was something I wanted to talk to her about, but I would wait until we were back on the freeway heading North.
Crossing over the bridge and passing the vista point I looked at Dara and said, "I'm not your private taxi cab service. The next time you get stuck in the city, call someone else to come get you. I don't appreciate you flaking out on me and then call up expecting me to be your personal chauffer. It doesn't work that way, understand"? For the rest of the trip home Dara didn't say anything. I dropped her off in front of her place and left. I didn't have much time to get ready for work so I wasn't into dawdling around.
That was the last time I saw Dara. She never called me again.
posted by factory_peasant at 12:00 PM
3 Comments:
fp
YES, YES!!!!
I can relate.
Sometimes it is a harsh realily check when you realize that people who care for you should not treat you like shit.
I'm so proud. I wish you could see my shit-eating grin.
lb
heh.
she was just having fun pretending to kill bums, i guess. a video camera would have been nice to have at that moment.
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