Hey, dude, a lift, please

In light of the horrible news in Arizona, I offer some lighter reading:

I’ve moved a step to going more native in my mode of transport. In the mornings, instead of taking the apartment tuktuk to the Skytrain station, I now take a motorcycle taxi. Those are motorcyclists who give passengers rides down the street. They generally are stationed around the major intersections or in front of major buildings and are identifiable with a numbered vest. Same price as the tuktuk, but has the advantage of weaving between vehicles and getting me to the station faster.

One morning, I walked out of building and was about to flag one down. I noticed a motorcyclist about to gear up to hit the road and asked for a ride down to the Station. He said sure, but laughed for some reason. As I climbed on, I glanced toward the direction of my building and noticed the guards giving me a funny look. We were halfway down before it dawned on me the motorcyclist didn’t have a vest. And another second for me to notice that he was also wearing a buttoned up shirt, a touch formal for a motocy. My god. Have I asked the mailman for a ride??? He still stopped and waited for payment at the end, though. I guess I gave some dude his lunch money. How embarrassing…

Blogger’s note: I had planned to write up a long post about crime and women. Instead, waking up to the news of the shooting of Congresswoman Giffords infuriated me in many ways. I just wasn’t in the mood to research links to cases of violence against women that I intended. I am too angry to pursue such a task objectively. This is also one moment where I wish I had geared my blog to rant about politics, which I had and will not. So, someone, blog, please, so I can rant on YOURS!

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