DRIVER 5250271 I SALUTE YOU

YOU ARE MY BROTHER.

Coming home from a – pretty fucking great actually – party that I had to duck out of early due to an even earlier start that i scheduled for myself tomorrow, (why?) i happened to catch a cab that was driven by none-other than Driver 5250271: a Unicorn from the 5th Regiment.

I’m sat in the back of the cab whilst my extremities return to an acceptable temperature, when a bunch of drunk gurls cross the street infront of us – their skirts way past a decent length, and so little else on them to protect from the cold/rapists/male gaze that it beggared belief.

Thus ensued a heated conversation and mutual appreciation session between myself and Driver 5250271.
We bonded over our disgust with the human race in general – but more specifically over the perfectly complete LACK of self respect that women/gurls in New York City continue to demonstrate – come rain, come shine, come snow storm.

***I GO TO MY INSIDE ROOM TO PONDER THIS FOR A MOMENT***
What possesses a person to go out in minus temperatures dressed in something that is only suitable for a tropical climate? – that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination? – that instead pretty much road maps a clear path right up into their crotches?
Why?
Are they out to dance and have a good time with their friends? Well then why not put on some jeans and a coat that can withstand a New York Winter in order to get to the club where there will mos def be a coat check? Who’s gonna mind if you don’t have your cat out on the prowl as you’re making your way to the dance floor?
Are they hoping to meet the man of their dreams? The person they want to maybe have kids with et cetera?*
Ha.
So then they’re looking for a quick fuck, right?
And then, in this case, do they understand that the kind of guy that they’re attracting to them whilst looking and behaving like that will not have one ounce of respect for them? – will most likely be laughing at them on the inside, (if he’s a polite version of said-man) or just outwardly? (if he’s not. PS: this is the more likely scenario)
Do they realise that they’re not going to enjoy the said-fuck that they’re supposedly looking for even if they get it because by the time they do they will be too drunk to feel and/or remember anything about it at all? – and that the guy in this case will most likely use them as a glorified masturbation aid?

BACK IN THE TAXI CAB -
Driver 5250271 proceeds to tell me a tale – nay a real life story of good versus evil – that took place not a stone’s throw away from my humble abode on the Isle of Manhattan.

He was driving around South Ferry at about 2am one night not more than a week before new year’s eve when he noticed 4 large Dudes surrounding something that was huddled up on the sidewalk. Turns out it was a chick. A Drunk Chick. Dressed in the standard uniform – skirt above crotch; no outerwear (outerwear? what’s outerwear? Is it something that’s not underwear and comes from American Apparel?); purse lying on the ground next to her at a distance that made it unclear as to whether it actually belonged to her or not – and so on and so forth.
The Dudes were standing in a circle around this Drunk, laughing and clearly acting with intention to have their wicked ways.
Driver 5250271 pulled up along side the group and got out of the cab. He tried to squeeze a coherent sentence out of the Drunk. Failed. Hauled her ass into his cab and found an address to drive her to from the identification card that was in her wallet.
They arrived at the Drunk’s building. Driver 5250271 left his name and number with the frankly-put-out doorman, and then sped off into the night.

A REAL HUMAN BEING AND A REAL HERO.

A.K.A. A UNICORN.

They exist.

That Drunk is the luckiest bitch alive. She called up Driver 5250271 the next day and paid him a 40dollar fare for a 10dollar ride – which was the very LEAST she could have done.**

- I look to the sky and furrow my brow into a mess of creases and desperate concerns -

WOMEN:
PUT ON SOME CLOTHES.
AND TAKE CARE OF YOUR FRIENDS WHEN THEY ACT LIKE FOOLS.

MEN:
Oh. I really have no idea what to say to you. Where do I begin? I’m exhausted it’s 2:13am and I have to get to sleep and I don’t have enough time or patience or energy to sit here writing for a lifetime about the lost art of chivalry.
Well – a few things spring to mind I suppose…
Teach your daughters that they are loved and special and deserving of something greater than a quickie in a stranger’s apartment in a big bad city.
oh – and don’t stand around laughing when one of these stupid misguided girls manages to fall on her ass and fade away infront of you in an alcohol induced state of oblivion. Take her the fuck inside and leave her with someone more responsible than you – if you can’t be bothered to be that person. Or better yet – put her in a licensed cab that will get her home safe. Don’t wait until one pulls up along side you and breaks up your ‘party’. Scum.

GOODNIGHT.

FOOTNOTES:
*Light humour – none of us believe that they’re really looking for such a thing in that get-up. No one could be that mentally challenged.

**Well Gee whizz, I guess in that situation I had two options:
1) gang rape
2) pay 40bucks for a Unicorn to deliver me home safe and sound.
hmmmm. Golly, I’m pretty exhausted and have way too much respect for myself and my reproductive organs, so I guess i’ll have to go with OPTION 2, PLEASE, THANKS VERY MUCH.