"Hey, we've got a girl cab driver! Are you the Night Cabbie?"

[January 24th, 2007] The girl, one of a group from Sabala's, asks the usual question with far more intensity than is usual, but gets the usual, "If I was, I certainly wouldn't tell you."

However, she is not to be dissuaded. One of her friends assures me that they hear this whenever they get a girl cab driver who's even remotely cute.

"Why do you want to know so badly?" I ask.

And oh my, she tells me. "I'm not even into girls, and I want to do that girl." She's got a crush on the Night Cabbie. Not on me, mind you. A fellow driver once gave me a terrific birthday present, a jokey poster of the Night Cabbie as comic-book heroine. Skintight suit, cape, mask, big blond hair, even bigger tits with "NC" written across them. She's standing astride a city skyline at night, all bad-ass in thigh-high boots.

I resemble that poster about as much as I do the personality that this very pretty girl had all ready and waiting for me. Unfortunate, as it sounded way more fun than my own.

I'm sorry to disappoint her by writing this. But honey, were I into girls myself, I'd want to do you too, if only for something else you said: "She has such a sharp tongue; I just want to show my appreciation with my tongue."

Beautiful. If only a male passenger who wasn't, like, 10 years younger than me would express such a sentiment.

—nightcabbie@wweek.com