And sometimes I'm just right ...

Last night was my night for drunken white boy hook ups. Or trying to hook up, I suppose. These things seem to come in waves and last night was just the night for these guys. Here's one (of 3) that tried to get me to "hang out" with them throughout the night:

Got sent to the Gateway MAX (lightrail) station early this morning to pick up a young man that missed his last bus. This is about 2a. I track him down and he hops in the front w/me.

Me: Hey there. How ya doin'?

He: Not so good, ya know?

Me: Missed your last bus didja?

He: How'd you know?

Me: Happens a lot, this time of the night. Where we off to?

He: 136th and SE Powell. How much do you think that's going to be?

Me: Oh, about $15.

He: That much?

Me: That's a high estimate. You'd be happy w/less, right?

He: Yeah. Let me count my money and make sure I have enough.

Me: K. I'll just pull over here while you count.

He: What? You don't trust me. That's cold. Pretty girl like you don't trust someone as good-looking as me. Just a shame.

Me: It's a shame that you think that since you think you're good-looking that will make a difference in whether or not you're trustworthy.

So he pulls out his cash and starts counting. He has a handful. All in twenties near as I can tell. And he thinks he's being cute about it....

He: Uh-oh. I don't know if THIS twenty will be enough. What about THIS one? Or THESE? as he's saying this he's putting them about 3 inches from my face to make sure I get that he has money.

Me: Yeah, I get it. We're going.

He: still looking Oh no. I don't think this HUNDRED DOLLAR BILL will be enough, huh.

Me: Now you're just being an ass. And you're getting less good-looking every time you stick another bill in my face so stop it.

He: All right. All right. Maybe I've had a little too much to drink tonight. But I'm still a good person. And pretty cute too, you have to admit.

Me: You might have been, before all that, not any longer.

He: C'mon now girl. You're way too pretty to be that angry.

Me: Oh, I'm not angry. Disappointed maybe, but not angry. And before you ask, I'm disappointed that once again it's been proven that personality takes away from looks.

He: with a real confused look on his face I don't get it.

Me: It's OK Sweetie and I pat him on the cheek I didn't expect you to. grin

He: responding to the smile Wow. You wanna hang out with me?

Me: Oh wow. Thanks, but no.

He: What? Am I not hot enough for you?

Me: I think we've been through this already. Besides, I don't hang w/people that live in your area.

He: What do you mean?

Me: It's 2a. You've got, conservatively, 2K in your pocket and you live at 136th/Powell. I'm guessing you're a drug dealer.

He: What?? Why?

Me: Aren't you?

He: Why would you say that? I just moved there.

Me: Are you from Portland?

He: Born and raised.

Me: Then you know the area and you moved there anyway. Drug dealer.

He: Wait a minute ... that's ... that's ...

Me: Profilin'. Yup.

He: You can't do that.

Me: Am I wrong?

He: after a few seconds Of course you're wrong.

Me: OK. I apologize. If you aren't anyway.

He: What's your name?

Me: Trixie. Yours?

He: Aaron. Double A. Like the battery. I go all night long. grin grin

Me: You did NOT just compare yourself to a battery. Is that the BEST you can do? At least claim you're a double D so a girl doesn't automatically think you're one of the smaller batteries. C'mon now.

He: My house is near here, just drop me off here. I don't want you to see which house I live in.

Me: just smiling at him K.

He: Are you sure you don't wanna hang out w/me? We could have a good time. You might like me.

Me: Again, thanks. But no. I'm working here.

He: Give me one good, LEGITIMATE reason why you won't go out with me.

Me: Honestly?

He: Of course.

Me: You only tipped me 50 cents.

He: Uh ... but ... all right. Nevermind.

Me: Bye, Junior.

I drive off and get a call about 20 blocks away which turns out to be the same lady I had before w/the 57 nieces and nephews. I get to her house and she comes out, drunk, and says she's going to basically the same area where I just dropped off.

She's chattering away about being a "functioning alcoholic" and how her husband is sending her to buy pot so he can relax. We get to where she's going (thankfully, pretty quickly) and pull up to the house she points out to me.

NEVER guess who answered the door to sell her some pot. :) Yup.

Sometimes, I'm just right. Heh.