Taxicab Depressions

In theatrical script writing, sketch stories, and poetry, a vignette is a short impressionistic scene that focuses on one moment or gives a trenchant impression about a character, an idea, or a setting, and sometimes an object. -Wikipedia

This one might be a little lame, but we liked it in the moment…

A group of three people flagged me down the other night, a guy and two girls, and one of them looked, I dunno, “distinctive” might be the best word. She was attractive, middle twenties, with very short, pale platinum blonde hair, almost white, and she had this “euro” kinda look going… hard to describe, but she immediately reminded me of a character from a film I really like. They get in, and they are only going fourteen or sixteen blocks, and the girls are talking away, and the blonde says, “So anyway, this woman came into work, and she remembered me from the Jockey Pub! I used to go there all the time to see my best friend Franco, because he worked right across the street, so after work he would come over and we’d do happy hour… but I haven’t been there in like two years! But her face lit up and she said, “You are Franco’s friend, right? Franco from Brazil, right?” I just couldn’t believe this bartender remembered me from so long ago!”

I said, “Well, you do have a very unique appearance… I was going to say it when you got in the car, but you girls were talking and I didn’t want to interrupt. You know who you look like?”

The blonde says loudly, “Ohhhh, boy, here we go… I only get this shit five or ten times a week… go ahead and say it… who do I look like?”

I said, “You look like “Switch” from The Matrix. I would remember you, too.”

That wasn’t what she was expecting to hear. She said, “Huh… that’s a new one. The Matrix is soooo 90’s, but you are older, so I get it… I see it…”

I laughed and said, “Well I’m not THAT old… who do people usually say you look like, five or ten times a week?”

Her two friends are already laughing, and she says, “Brienne of Tarth”, from Game of Thrones.”

I am a giant mark for Game of Thrones, and I busted out laughing, because this girl was a little over five feet tall and might have weighed 110 pounds soaking wet, and I said, “Well, you are only two or three feet too short for that role, but hey… they are both some badass blonde bitches, bitches NOT to be screwed with… much like yourself, amiright?”

They are all laughing and I am pulling up to their destination. I said, “Why does everyone seem to associate you with these heavily-armed and lethally dangerous women? Are you currently carrying any broadswords or battleaxes or handguns or Claymore mines that I should be aware off?” They got out laughing, and gave me three fives for a six dollar fare.

As I read this back, it feels a little weak… maybe ya had to be there, but we all got a good laugh in that four minute taxi ride… blogworthy, but not bookworthy.