In which I drive a drunk, sexy stranger to the airport
I hadn’t seen my friend Gregorio in over twenty years, but we have kept in touch. You know, an occasional email, message, or some other form of electronic communication. We have lived in different countries since I left the University where we both studied our undergrad. So, it was not a huge surprise, but certainly not entirely expected, when I got an email from him saying “Hey, I’m in New York, going to hear a talk by your brother!” My brother is a very well regarded financial analyst, Gregorio works in finance. I answered to him “Remember to introduce yourself!” (a running gag, he has introduced himself to my brother several times) and I add “I’m in Palo Alto trying to learn something.” He answers almost immediately: “I’m going to be in San Francisco tomorrow, any chance of seeing each other?” After some back and forth we agree on the following plan: I’ll go up to San Francisco, meet him at his Hotel in Mission Street, then we’ll take a cab to the airport so he can check his bag and a big box with speakers he bought, then continue to Palo Alto for dinner at our common friend Alberto’s house.
According to plan we meet at his hotel, after some talk about our respective lives we go to the Concierge and ask for a cab to the airport and we wait for it outside.
A bold (in more than one sense, as we shall see) guy approaches us “I heard you are going to the airport maybe you can share a ride?” I think, well, a little weird, but sharing a cab may save both money, so, “Maybe? Did you already ask for a cab?” “No, she has a car”, pointing to his sexy companion. What? I think, are they offering us a ride? That’s more than a little weird… As a white Escalade is driven in by the valet, she says “This is my car. Can you drive?” And that’s how we got to a different level of weird. Before we could react I was given the keys to the Escalade, She shoves Gregorio’s bags into the trunk space, which is full of boxes, the bold guy kisses her goodbye with a peck, while we find out in astonishment that he is not going, and we all get in the car. I am driving, Gregorio is in the passenger seat, and she is in the back.
As we start talking trying to somehow normalize this weird scenario, in which an Escalade and a female stranger had been handed to two Venezuelans by a bold guy, we discover some clues about the situation. Our new friend, whose name is Jamie (at least, that’s what I understood Gregorio said afterwards) is drunk. As she leans over to set the GPS on our way to the airport I noticed the alcohol in her breath and, no choice not to, her ample bosom. We talk about where each of us live, which for me is hard because it’s nowhere. Gregorio is going to his home in Mexico, Jamie loves Mexico, and she is going to Laguna Beach, because, you know, that’s close to Mexico.
Gregorio and I roll with the punches of this adventure and continue our conversation about our lives, when I tell him about my startup (still secret, sorry), he starts to interrogate Jamie about what apps she uses. And that’s how we got to Tinder. Jamie, you see, is a heavy user of Tinder. She doesn’t use Facebook, or Twitter, she does use Instagram, but Tinder is her main social app. She shows Gregorio, who wasn’t familiar with Tinder, how the App works, swiping yeses and no’s. She says she’s an open book and we can ask her anything about her app use, and proceeds to tell us that she is going to Laguna Beach to meet with a Tinder contact (first meeting), who had paid for her ticket there. She tell us that her only criticism of Tinder is that it lacks income information, like Luxy has. Then proceeds to show Gregorio how Luxy works and explains why she doesn’t want to waste time with someone that makes only fifty thousand dollars, which is what she makes.
When I talk about my immigration issues she proposes a solution, “Marry an american girl!” Gregorio says that since he is married, she should consider me, instead of using Tinder or Luxy: single and open to adventure (obviously). I don’t show interest, she may have taken offense.
We get, safely, to the airport, park in Hourly parking, because she doesn’t care that it’s more expensive, we walk to the elevators she goes to Terminal 3, we go to the International Terminal. We say our goodbyes, thank her for the interesting adventure, she slurs something about being a spontaneous thing. Again, I feel she is disappointed we don’t ask for any info to stay in touch. Gregorio and I have a story to tell, with each other as witnesses, for the rest of our lives. He later regrets not having taken a picture of her. He liked her eyes. Dinner at Alberto’s was very good.
