If you're lucky, into life a little Ara will fall

In my time as a California resident I have limited my cab rides, almost exclusively, to an as-needed ride to the airport. Last night, however, I was instructed by Stacy and Adriann to meet them at Lola's and to take a cab. Half an hour before meet time, I dug my phone out of my purse and dialed up the taxi company. Yes, I was ready now. Send your man and his automobile.

I stepped out onto the balcony and waited, tipping my head back and drinking in the lovely night. It was dark, but it was still in the gorgeous 70s with a breeze to push the curls away from my face. When the minivan cab pulled up and I saw that the windows in the front were rolled down, I was urged by the night to stick my head through the passenger side and ask, "You mind if I ride up here with you?"

We'd only gotten about 3 blocks away from my apartment when we'd exhausted the topic of the fabulous weather. I sat there thinking, "hmmm... another 20 minutes to go... what are some other benign topics?" After a moment of silence, we pulled up to a red light and the driver turned to fully look me in the face before blowing my mind with, "I remember you. I think I take you to the airport once."

L.A. is a city with over 4 million people hustling about. The last time I took a cab anywhere was when I needed to get to the airport for my flight home at Christmas. And he was right, he was the man I'd chatted with the entire way to LAX.

Me: You're right! How could you possibly remember that? It was months ago!
New friend: I remember a Sara. I remember picking a Sara up at that apartment. I liked you. You were nice.
Me: I can't believe the odds of that happening... I NEVER take cabs.
New friend: So, you going out to a club? A restaurant?
Me: Um, more like a restaurant-slash-lounge.
New friend: You got a date.
Me: Ha! Hahaha! Oh, no. Better than that. I'm meeting my fabulous girlfriends.
New friend: So, who you going to vote for in the election? Hillary?

So much for benign. I don't even talk politics with most of my friends, afraid that I'd be unable to stop myself from sucker punching. I tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, but Ara was not to be deterred from such landmines as...

New friend: Guess what nationality I am?
Me: Oh god. I never do that. THAT is just a way to offend people with my ignorance.
New friend: Go ahead, I no get mad!

OR

New friend: How long you live in L.A.?
Me: Coming up on 2 years.
New friend: Where is boyfriend tonight?
Me: No boyfriend.
New friend: You move here for job? You have job you love?
Me: No. I don't love my job at all.
New friend: Then why you do it? Why you not do what you love? You should love what you do.
Me: Well, that's the trick, isn't it?! I can't figure out - still - what it is I really want to do. So for now, job pays the bills.
New friend: Fair enough. So, why you live in L.A. then? You all alone?
Me: No, I'm not all alone. I'm meeting girlfriends that I love and I live right near my sister, who is my favorite person ever.
New friend: Oh yes! You tell me that before! How is your sister?

At this point his phone rang, giving me a moment to stare out the window with my mouth gaping open at the absurdity of it all. FOUR MILLION people. I can't find the cute guy I saw at Starbucks that one day, but I can find Ara, the cab driver who likes to prod around in my soul and make me scowl at the probing questions he considers small talk.

This was even more bizarre than when Laura and I were in D.C. totally sweaty and disgusting on a sweltering, humid summer day and we needed to get to her apartment for the fastest showers and wardrobe change ever to make it to the Lincoln Center less than 2 hours later. We finally found a cab to get us to her place, and not long after, waved down a cab to get us to the Lincoln Center. It was the same dude. Apparently, we were previously so foul and showers were so transformative that he didn't recognize us and had a truly difficult time believing that were were the same mongrels he'd dropped off not long before.

When we finally pulled up to Lola's I was digging around in my purse for the cash I'd tossed in earlier. Ara's accent sometimes made it hard for me to make out every single word, but I swear our send-off went like this:

New friend: You can pay me tonight, or not. I can get you next time.
Me: Ara! I'm going to pay you right now, I just have to find my money in here.
New friend: Ok, well if you want to, but you don't have to.

I handed over the $30 and wished my new friend a terrific evening. As he pulled away and the suited men with clipboards waited for me to walk over with my ID, I stood paralyzed for the second it took to absorb an insane half hour...

I'd found Ara, the nicest cabbie in L.A., not once, but twice. He remembered me. He remembered me telling him about Teen. And then, in the most bizarre twist of all, he told me I didn't have to pay him - that he'd get me next time... as if I was Norm and he was Sam and this was Cheers, instead of a chaotic city of millions that I could easily disappear into.

Moment of absorption complete, I spun around ready to see my girls. I love this city.