by Joy Monger
After a fancy night out and with a bellies full of tequila sno cones and salted butterscotch torte the group parted ways. Some of us walked towards the light rail, a few went to meet up with other friends. I tried to catch a cab from Larimer Square but was unsuccessful. I walked up and down the block trying to figure out the best place to stand but all the cabs were full and their lights off. It was nearing bar close (which is why this post counts as a new day—it being after midnight and technically the next day, thus a new, different joy) and the night was pretty so I sat down on bench to people watch before trying again to hail a cab.
Let me just preface this story by saying that crazy stuff happens to me on a pretty regular basis through no fault of my own–nice, quite evenings often end up at Dennis Rodman’s private birthday party or poking beached mammals of unknown origin with Mexican school children. Both true stories. Also, for some reason, cab drivers like me. I hold some sort of allure for folks who drive as their chosen profession. I can’t help it.
Anyways, there I am sitting on a park bench, minding my own business, enjoying the evening, with every intention of going home just as soon as a cab comes by with its light on when a guy walks over and begins chatting me up. He noticed I was having a hard time catching a ride. He told me he had just bought an old school white limo, fixed it up and now made money driving the beautiful people around downtown Denver. He calls his business “Sexy Limo” and goes by the name “Driver McLoven”. Seriously.
We chatted for a while and then he asked if I wanted to see “something cool”. Having apparently no self-protection instincts at all I said yes, we walked up to the limo, he opened the door and inside was a huge pit bull sleeping in the very retro back seat. I leaned in and pet the dog, admired the sweet neon lighting, and chatted to Sexy Limo guy some more.
And then I realized this was actually super weird and that I might be two seconds away from being murdered in a Lincoln Towne Car with bad lighting. Or at the least I might catch something from petting strange dogs. So I thanked Sexy Limo guy and made my leave.
But I did get his card, just in case I ever need a ride. He’s available for birthdays and can seat up to eight. Just sayin.