The stick-man figure, the center of the geographical target, whose surrounding lines double up and down as the alarm sounds, 10 beeps or so, is all I get before I decide to take this rider's request.
I did.
He stood by the curb in front of a restaurant. Dressed in blue jeans and a blue jean decoratively studded jean jacket, shades and with a Machista aura, he motioned toward the front passenger side and attempted to open the locked door. As he climbed in the back, passenger seat, he said, "Hey how you doin', you want me to sit in the front?"
I said, "No, No...your fine. Were are we headed?"
"Dunkin Donuts/Baskin Robbins...I have to get some ice cream bars for my uncle, you want anything?"
"No thanks."
He asked again, "You Sure?" I responded, "No thanks."
"It will only take a minute."
I waited...anxious to get this ride over with and get him to his destination.
He came out of the Ice Cream/Donut shop, and proceeded to get into the car. As I drove off he began to speak (Chicano accent).
"Yeah, you know, I just got out of work and can't wait...I'm gonna make an appointment to see my massage therapist. She gives great massages, I mean, she really digs in deep and uses, this kind of oil, smells good...but before she does that, she shaves my back and my chest. She is just amazing. She massages my whole body. Oh yeah, she is great. Do you get any massages?"
"That's great. Na, but good for you. If it makes you feel good, go for it."
"Oh my god, and you should see what she does with my feet, I love when she puts your fingers through my toes, and the oil she uses, I have to ask her what she is using."
Finally arrived at the destination.
Too Far, Too Much.
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