Irony is a bitch

I went against my better judgment today, and I need to vent. So here it goes.

I worked 8 am to 2 pm today. Yeah I know, I should have taken a break the day after graduation. Irony is a bitch. After work, as I was walking towards my car in the parking lot, a man approached me and asked if I had just gotten off work. I said yeah, so he said that he needed to get to Livermore and that he was harmless and all that bullshit. He wasn’t a shady, suspicious looking character. His profile? A white 30 something short, meaty male who was wearing sunglasses, a plaid, collared shirt, khaki shorts, and sneakers. If something went wrong in broad daylight, I thought I could take him. I was reluctant at first because I didn’t want to waste my gas, so I told him I wasn’t going that way because I lived in here. He countered by saying that I didn’t have to go all the way, so I gave in. I wanted to be a Good Samaritan.

He said I would only have to go two exits on the Interstate. [Well guess what dumbfuck? Two exits is three fucking miles. I might as well go all the way.] It was as hotter than Africa in my car, so I lowered the windows and put the air conditioning on low. And that son of a bitch had the nerve to turn it up a notch. [You didn't just touch my goddamn air conditioning switch! Don't you ever touch an Asian man's air conditioning switch, boy!]

He started a conversation by asking if I was from China. I didn’t want to talk. [You speak when spoken to.] I got offended and responded through gritted teeth. It was my turn to ask. [Where are you from? The United States of America? Don't ever assume anything. Just ask "where are you from?" and everybody's cool.] He said San Diego. I asked him if he lived in Livermore. He said no because he was from San Diego. He proceeded to ask what the highways like in Taiwan. [What the fuck? What kind of fucking subject is this to talk about?]. I thought about what to say for a moment and said not much different. He asked how fast the speed limit was. I responded that I didn’t know since it was in kilometers [And since I didn't know how to convert kilometers to miles, I couldn't compare because dumbass America chose not to use the metric system when the rest of the world did].

As I made my way to Livermore, he said to drop him off at a hotel. I asked him why a hotel? Does he need to make a phone call? He said he needed to get a room, and this is when I became suspicious. Nothing made sense. He’s by himself. He doesn’t live here apparently. He needs a room. What the fuck is going on?

As I was exiting, he said in a smooth, nonchalant, and annoying voice without any pauses between his sentences, “I need to get a room. I’m going to need a credit card. Do you have a credit card? I’m going to need your credit card and number. I will pay you back in cash. Don’t worry, I’m not a scammer. I won’t use your credit card number for anything else.” Before he spoke and as he was speaking, he was counting a wad of cash, which made it even more irritating after. [Why didn't you call someone? How about a cab? Why don't you offer to pay me for bringing you here you fuckface. You have the fucking money.] However, I stopped listening at needing my credit card. I coolly said that I didn’t have a credit card, and as I drove across the bridge I said I needed to make this quick since I needed to get somewhere. I just wanted him out of my car. He abruptly said okay and told me to drop him off on the bridge “to make it easier for me to return.” What the fuck? This is how I knew he was a douchebag. A victim sans a credit card was useless to him, and he had no more business to do with me.

Worst scammer ever. Who the fuck does he think he is? Why the fuck did he make me go all the way to fucking Livermore? There’s plenty of fucking hotels here, but that’s not the point. He didn’t even have to bring up the part about not being a scammer. I knew what the fuck was going on. This motherfucker tried to take advantage of me. I just hope no one else fell into his gay ass trap. Fuck him.

He wasted 20 precious Saturday minutes of my life round trip, which is priceless and a half gallon of gas, which will be $2.50 by the time I fill up again. If I see him again, I will beat his ass (read: call the cops). Be sure to look for the post entitled “Karma is a bitch” later.

In the aftermath, I had a few thoughts. My car’s passenger door lock routinely breaks and fixes itself. This time it was broken, so when I unlocked all of my car’s doors, only the passenger door did not unlock, so he could not have gotten into my car. I should have driven off with my middle finger out the window. I wanted to get out of the car and beat him up so badly, but better safe than sorry.

There were so many questions to ask him. Did your car break? Why don’t you call a cab, your wife, a family member, a friend? Do you even have a family? Does your wife and your kids know how you make a living? How does it feel to be an unemployed, lying piece of shit at the bottom of society?

I had trouble driving with my large sugar free vanilla ice coffee in hand, so he offered to hold it. His fat ass fingers touching my large sugar free vanilla ice coffee. Unacceptable. Whenever I drive my car and look across to the passenger seat, I will remember that a fag once sat there. Good thing I’m off to college at the end of summer, and I won’t be driving my car around as much anymore.

What a fucking asshole.

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