memorable things

I often find myself trying to place an event in the past, or trying to make out details in the blurry memories. The good thing about keeping a journal, however half-assed it may be, is that it keeps things fresh.

Last Thursday night, sadira and I sat in an "office" in the lab where I work. She was stydying for her A+ cert, and I was preparing for a journal club presentation. By the time I was finished (or rather, no longer willing to continue working), it was about midnight. We had to hail a cab to get us back to Central, where we could take her car to my place.

It was miserable outside. I stayed close to the Tupper building, trying to isolate myself from the elements a little. Sadira stepped out into the cold rain, to the edge of the street (she is waterproof), so that she could wave a car over. I said "I haven't hailed a cab in forever."

A weathered-looking Chinatown prostitute crossed the street towards us. I mean, she looked like a prostitute -- there was no mistaking her for anything else. Her wet purple boa clung nastily to her shiny top. Sadira and I both looked at her briefly.

My mind returned to the task of hailing a cab to save us from the cold, wet night in nasty-ass Chinatown. As the whore walked past me, I saw a cab across the intersection, and I said, loud enough for my voice to carry over the wind and rain: "There's one! How can you tell if they're on duty? Do you just walk up and kick them?"

I swear to God it was completely unintentional. Sadira appraised the situation in an instant, and busted out laughing. It took me another second to catch on. The prostitute just kept on walking.