Another taxi ride..
This one reminding me of why, it's sometimes okay to be among the living...in short bursts.
The driver, a young (looking) rasta woman, was extremely talkative; she had her associate in the front with her and another one joined us on the journey to Grand Curacaye.
The driver regaled us with a story of well, bacchanal, that she was at the centre of through no (supposed) fault of her own; the details themselves were entertaining, admittedly I was stifling laughter at her outrageous put downs and descriptions of the individuals involved (a couple, of course) but the real interest to me was her inability to stop recounting the incident.
The need to express, the drive, the intensity of it..it seemed to consume her, the insult she indicated at having felt, the audacity of the persons involved, and their idiocy at misreading her.
I usually (well always am, really) reading some pretty...out there things, some so ridiculous I laugh out loud at the crap people publish and make money off of..
That said, the story the rasta lady related if written and fleshed out would not be as successful as if it were embellished and exaggerated;
reality hardly sells without a dose of fiction added.
And fiction sells because no one wants to live vicariously through a normal person, in a normal situation..that's boring! lol smh
Tell me what stories you've heard on maxis or in taxis..?
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