As any non-driving District inhabitant knows: shiny yellow cab light on = run and catch me first and I’m all yours! Cab light off = shove off, I’m taken. So if the riders understand the boilerplate D.C. taxicab sign-language,you’d think its creators–the cab drivers themselves–would, as well.Apparently, that is too much to ask.
I have leapt snow mountains in a single bound and played rousing games of dodgecar/bus just to catch a cab withhis light on only to have the cabbie lock the door when I get withinarms length. (Thanks, Dad, I know that this behavior is dangerous, butthat is not the focus of this post). Or, if I manage to make it safelyinside, I get greeted with “No, no! Off duty! Off duty!” Horrified andout of breath, I’ll challenge them: “But your light is on!”To no avail. When this happens, I’ve been known to share a few choicewords on my way out and slam the door in a huff. How rude!
I won’t get into the quandary of cab availability to Black people in D.C. (particularly at night going inthe direction of Southwest). But I am often left wondering if thecabbie just forgot to turn his light off, or, if it was me.
The thought that had I been someone other than who I am, that cab might have been available to me, isinfuriating, for the sole reason that there isn’t a thing I can doabout who I am. I can strive to be better versions of myself, but at mycore, I am who I am.
In that same vein, then, I can wholly empathize with all of the men I have sort-of kind-of datedas of late. Confession: I have been driving around with my light onfor the past nearly two years; all the while, I have been—andremain—completely, unequivocally, emotionally unavailable.Read more of "Light's Out: An emotionally unavailable woman's attempt at atonement" at http://www.dcdistrictdiva.com/?p=183
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