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Single Mom Traveling

Cab Ride in Philly

When in Philadelphia, be very weary of which cab driver you choose to entrust your life with.

I’m not gonna say which guy was mine, I’m still a lil afraid he’ll come after me. I’m being serious.


At first, everything was normal. It was raining like crazy and my cab driver drove me through the storm with ease.

BTW: I never knew Philly had some many broken down abandoned factories. Wonderful scenario for possible dumping ground, yes?


Those pics are just a few on my route. The route that was supposed to take 45 minutes but took over an hour and a half.


We drove and drove and drove. And at first, I thought nothing of it. I called my kids to check on them. I called my momma. “All is well!! See, y’all, a single mom can travel alone and be safe!” I proudly declared on the phone!

See momma, I told you the cab driver wouldn’t pull over on the side of the road, hand cuff me, beat and hghghhghg55342424###$$!!!@@@ me and dump my decomposing body in the dumpster….Told ya so!

After about an hour and ten minutes, I watched as my cab driver began slapping his GPS and saying:

“Not work!!! GPS not work!!!”

Errrrrrrr ummmmmmm. Ok, really? I gave Mr. Cab Driver the number to my hotel. Twice. The cab driver called each time but only asked “What town you in? What town you in?”

I have a better option. How about “How you get there? How you get there?”

But that’s so not what he said.

I started really getting concerned when he pulled off the highway for the second time.

“I cut off meter. That way, it not charge you. You already at $100.00 dollar. You pay now.”

Poop. He wants me to pay him on the side of the highway when I’m not even there? Is he trying to erase a paper trial?

I can hear him now

                                                       “Oh no, officer, I drop lady off at 7:04p.m.

                                 Here is my receipt.  I not kill her and dump her body in dumpster….”



By 8:00 p.m. and the third time pulling off on the side of the highway, I was texting The Honey “if you don’t hear from me, this is his name…..his cab number is…..we are near…old abanded factories? CALL THE POLICE!!!”

Dear merciful heavens…..

I sat there for a seconds thinking: what to do, what to do….

I didn’t want to be forceful, that might make him mad and then he could really freak. Instead of sending my text, I picked up my phone and said “You know what, I bet my Honey can help out with this one. He’s the head of the GBI. My Honey has friends all over this town. My Honey will totally direct our way to the hotel. I shoulda thought of this earlier. No worries.”

I called my Honey. You know the one I’m always talking about? The one who is not the head of the GBI?????

The conversation went a little like this:

ME: “Hey. whatcha doing?”

The Honey: “I’m on my tractor at the farm. I’m about to spread some grass seed.”

ME:”Oh wow, you’re lifting Volkswagen cars as weights again? My Honey is so strong and powerful.”

The Honey: “HUH?”

ME: “Oh no, I’m not at the hotel yet. Pretty funny story, though. My cab drivers GPS broke.”

The Honey: “His GPS broke? What an idiot. Tell that fool to stop messing around and take you back to your hotel. NOW.”

ME: “Oh yes, we are on the right path now, dear. I was just mentioning to him how you killed 7 men with your bare hands….just last week. My baby is a lump of muscles, he is.”

The Honey: “Do what?”

ME: “Oh, here we go. We are suddenly at the Radisson Hotel. Yes, baby. I will call you the minute I walk through the doors. You did what? Hired me a personal bodyguard whose waving at me right now? You silly bean. Ok. Love you too. Ok. Yes. Talk in three minutes, babe. Ummm hmmm, the second I walk through the door. Bye, snuggle bunny!”

“Huh? What did you just call me?”


Good grief.

Since I had paid him earlier, I was helping myself outta his nasty, grimy cab.

“Meter broken. Says you not pay.” The cab driver growled.
“Oh, I pay. I gave you my AMEX card. Remember?” I told him.

“Machine broken. Says you not pay. You give me your phone number and if card not go through, I call you.” He said.

“No.” I say. Paralyzed outside my hotel…with my pretend body guards standing…no where in sight? ”You can’t have my phone number.” I tell him.

“I give you mine. Here card.”

“I not need your card. I pay.” (Funny how I picked up his ‘cabinese’ speech.)

But I took his card anyway. On my speaker phone, I dialed AMEX to ask if the charge went through. $100.00 smacks did indeed go through. “Could you tell my taxi driver so I can leave?” I ask. “His machinery, it seems to have a malfunction. All of his machinery does, in fact.” So AMEX tells him that I was charged.

I go to walk away.

“Hey lady” he says. “Gimme me back my card.”

Oh my aching fanny.

“No.” I tell the cab driver. “I might need it.” I smiled and walked into the hotel. All the while, my fingers dialing The Honey’s number and him answering…”Now what was that all about????? I couldn’t barely hear you with my tractor motor running…..”

Definition of a Road Trip

This was exactly how I felt as we were making our way to Hilton Head Island on a quick, one night get away. To get away from who or what…that is the question….because I brought my kids with me.

Just kidding sweet babies.

Not really :)

Anyhow, the trip started off innocent enough. Jake was driving. He was doing a pretty decent job, there was no whip lash from him stomping on the breaks, no running off the road while trying to read signs, life was going along quite smoothly. Until…. we had to hit the cooterfest!! Ohhhhhhhhhh, that stupid cooterfest!!! Immediately, there are detours everywhere, live music blaring and let’s not under-estimate the questions zooming through a 16 boys head: What exactly is a cooterfest and why haven’t I heard of this fine sounding festival before?????? Jake’s attention span as well as driving ability became suddenly nill. He seemed very excited to stop in Allendale SC and check out this never heard of before festival.

I quickly defined what the phrase “Cooterfest” meant for Jake.

Cooterfest: A cooter is a turtle, Jake. The cooterfest is a race to see just which turtle is the fastest. Any more questions, sicko, I mean son?

His admiration for Allendale SC quickly waned and after getting off on the wrong detour and ending up in Bamburg SC (complete opposite of where we are heading), we get back on track. Sorta.

The conversation went from: Cooterfest to lajina. Pernounced  la~ J I ~na. It like… rhymes with…oh well, I’m sure you can figure it out.

Lagina: It’s the skin between your thumb and index finger.

Such attractive road trip talk, yes? Whose children are these anyway???

Oh yeah.


Then somebody had to bring up their wenus.

Wenus ~the skin on your elbow. Also a word used for freaking out your mother as she’s driving 80 miles per hour down highway 278. This word is used by teenage boys all over the world to suddenly startle their mother as she is thinking her only son is being vulgar and gross by talking about something / another word that is unsettlingly close to wenus.

Definition of silence: zip yo lip.

I suppose this is what happens when one’s trip is slowed and detoured by a cooterfest, the conversation just goes downhill from there…