“You don’t understand, I need that credit card back!!”
I almost fell to my knees to pray to Allah, Goddess, anyone.
Montreal, I really like you. It’s been fun meeting new people and getting an invite to one of the coolest brewpubs in the city. You know what’s wonderful about you? I’ll walk past a Reitman’s and beside it is a Catholic church built in the 1700′s. How do you do that? Make the ordinary so extraordinary? The point is I’m late. Very. Of course it was my fault I got off at St. Laurent instead of Laurier, started hoofing it, realizing these ineffectual feet couldn’t possibly make it to Dieu du Ciel on time. And I am grateful for the chance to have this time. Whoever I have to thank – big hugs and kisses. And here’s my blood in exchange. But come on, an $8.00 cab ride towards disaster?
The cab driver was amiable, but took forever to process my card, slide it through the machinery already – I wanted to shout at him to hurry.
It was a slow-mo replay, he seemed to take hours instead of minutes to complete the visa slip.
He had my card cradled on his thigh when it slid off and disappeared.
Semi panic singed my throat as he clumsily handed me the slip with a goofy smile. You realize THAT was 1 of 2 cards I have with me. PERIOD.
My voice struggled to remain casual. “Oh yeah, guess I need my card back. Can you find it?”
“Sure, no prob.”
It was momentairly amusing to watch a grown man root underneath his butt cheeks, until