As a newcomer to the wonderful District of Columbia, and lucky enough to live in Dupont Circle, I spent a great deal of my time walking around the city. There are so many perks to walking, such as: exercise, not having to look for parking, discovering cool neighborhoods and having the option to drink all day. Also, if you find yourself walking on Connecticut Avenue, you are guaranteed to get hit on, heckled or even barked at (whatever that means).
Alas, my love of walking changed one fateful November night. Something happened that questioned my pedestrian lifestyle. Something so traumatizing, that I was rocked to my very core and made a vow to never walk again.
It was a weeknight, around 10:30, near Farragut North. I was walking with a couple of girlfriends, minding my own business, when suddenly I felt my friend grab my arm and frantically pull me to the side. I realized what was happening and in a state of being Shermineh, let out a blood-curdling scream. Apparently, some crazy Voodoo, witch doctor- looking lady (with questionable fashion) decided she needed to KICK me. So, said lady charged at me, while yelling in something that resembled a possessed lunatic speaking in tongues. ( I wish I were being hyperbolic, but I am not. Remember, no satire or humor here.)
At that moment, several thoughts ran through my head:
WHAT THE F***???!!!!
I’m not in Irvine anymore.
Why are bat-shit crazy people drawn to me?
Did I close my tab at Blackfinn? AND
As God is my witness, I’ll never walk again!!! (cue Gone with the Wind soundtrack).
And I never did.
Thus begins the second chapter of my life in DC- where I discovered the cab ride. In the beginning I was apprehensive about getting into cabs by myself. Growing up with a Persian mom that watches one too many Lifetime movies really messes with ones head. Not to mention my crazy imagination and unhealthy obsession with Robert De Niro made me extremely paranoid. But I would rather risk a ride from Travis Bickle than get a roundhouse kick to the head by a crazy Voodoo, witch doctor-looking lady (with questionable fashion).
DC Cab Drivers
The DC cab driver.
They can tell you about culture, history, geography, psychology, science, and of course, politics. They are a wealth of history and information and will gladly share with you. Despite their lack of driving skills, they are extremely kind and good natured.
The life lessons and the experiences I have had during cab rides are unparalleled. I have had heated debates, tequila infused breakdowns, and life changing epiphanies. I have had numerous existential moments and received the best therapy and career advice of my life.
I find most of my experiences, for the most part, to be universal. However, some experiences are unique, in that they could and would only happen to me. When you read this, you will think the same.
Everybody Dance Now (or Sing)
One of the greatest things that I have discovered about DC cab drivers is that they are multi-talented. Meaning, some have been given the gift of song and dance. On numerous occasions, I have had the great fortune and pleasure of experiencing that talent. The best part is, they always invite you to join them.
Nothing is greater than ending the night with a sing off in the back of a car- jamming and singing to 80’s tunes. NOTHING.
Wait, I lied. Nothing is greater than having an Indian dance party in the back of a cab. Imagine 2 girls, 2 guys, a cab driver and Indian music on blast. Keep in mind the only Indian is the cab driver, who is too busy singing and dancing along to keep his hand on the steering wheel. Picture a very bad version of a Bollywood music video, throw in a high speed car chase and you get one of the best cab rides I have ever had.
DO NOT Tell a Persian Girl That You “Love Ahmadinejad”
One of the many reasons that I absolutely love DC is that you can talk to anyone, at anytime and any place about current affairs and politics. That includes cab drivers. I have had some wonderful debates and talks with cab drivers-mostly pleasant encounters. Except for that one cab ride that cost me my Drivers License, favorite MAC lipgloss and convinced my roommate that I may need to take Anger Management classes.
It was a few days after Snowmageddon and I miraculously caught a cab from Chinatown and made my way home. We had the usual small talk, he asked me where I was from, I answered “California”, he said “no where are you from?”, I said “oh, Iran.”
He looked at me, smiled, and said: “I love Ahmadinejad. He is a great guy.”
Usually, I make it a rule to never engage incompetent and ignorant people. I also have a bad habit of breaking my rules. In fact, if you know me, I am sure you can only imagine how the rest of that conversation went. Let’s just say heads were rolling, fingers were pointing, arms were flailing and voices were being raised.
Ok, it was mostly me doing the yelling and the finger pointing. But, before you jump to the conclusion that it was typical, impulsive Shermineh behavior, I would like to say this: 1) during the aftermath of the 2009, June Presidential election in Iran- I spent two weeks of my vacation going to demonstrations and protests in California (where the crazy people live); 2) it was Snowmageddon, tensions were high, people thought the world was coming to an end AND 3) honestly, I thought it was common knowledge to not go against an impassioned Persian girl. He should have known better.
In the moment of rage, I left my Drivers License and make up bag in the cab. I tried to get it back, but for some strange reason I never saw it again. I walked around the city with my passport for six months!!! Damn, I really HATE that cab driver.
Lessons in Geography
Where the hell is Eritrea*??!!! Seriously, I had never heard of ‘Eritrea’ until I came to DC. It sounds like the name of an enchanted kingdom from a fairytale or a village that is part of the seven kingdoms on Game of Thrones.
Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me a Match, Find Me a Find, Catch Me a Catch
When a Rico Suave wannabe and self- proclaimed “playboy” tries to get you a boyfriend, you have nothing else to say but: “FML.” No, really, f*** my life.
This very man, the ‘matchmaker’, got caught cheating on his girlfriend with her best friend, then had the audacity to blame the friend because she lured him with her “seductive ways.” This is the man who tells me that I need a boyfriend. This is the man who then tries to set me up with one of his many friends.
Here is how that conversation went:
“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?!” – Rico Suave (ps- a question all single girls LOVE being asked!)
“Well… I don’t know because…”- Me.
RS interrupts. “You are such a beautiful girl! Let me set you up with Dave. He is 30. Nice guy. Looking for a wife.” (All of my requirements: check)
RS then pulls out his cell phone and tries to call his friend on the spot. I politely refuse. He gives it to me anyways.
FML.
Everyone Loves a Persian Girl
One of my favorite things to do during a cab ride is play a game that I call: “Where are you from?” This game is a lot of fun, because cab drivers rarely guess the right answer. So far I have heard : “Italian” “Greek” ,“White girl” and “Venezuelan”. I smile and sweetly reply: “No, I’m Persian.” What I really want to say is: “Duuuude! Have you seen my profile?!” or “If I can guess where you are from, you can guess where I am from.”
Now, this would normally give me a complex about my identity. However, when they realize that I am indeed a girl of the Persian breed, this leads to my favorite part of the game. They look at me in the mirror, sometimes they even turn their head like a freakin’ owl and say: “ohhhhhhhhhh! I LOVE PERSIAN GIRLS!!! You are all soooooooo beautiful! The most beautiful women in the world!!!”
Those type of cab rides always cost me more, but they are worth every penny.
*A country of northeast Africa bordering on the Red Sea. Once part of the Ethiopian kingdom of Aksum, it became an Italian colony in 1890 and was named after the Roman term for the Red Sea, Mare erythraeum. Captured by the British during World War II, Eritrea later became a federated part (1952) and then a province (1962) of Ethiopia, from which it gained its independence in 1993. Asmara is the capital and largest city. Population: 4,910,000. (The Free Dictionary)
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