riding a cab

I probably live in a world where I have to weave lie after lie to escape the barrage of questions thrown at me by new people or strangers. Sometimes, I have to string the same fabricated thoughts to people around me, such as in my workplace, to protect myself. 

Let me cite an example where I am asked as I take cabs during weekends.  The half-hour travel becomes hours of eternity when I am asked about my ethnicity, status, salary, daily grinds, and even the most unexpected questions, the why's.

Of course, you might say I do not need to answer all those questions, but that would be very impolite not to reply as the driver was just being friendly or maybe nosy. I make my decision based on the tone of questioning. If it seems a friendly query, then I make small talk.  If it is demeaning, then I choose to answer with either yes or no, signaling the other person that I am not in a conversant mode.

I am intrigued by the line of questioning, and you can guess if the person is genuinely interested in getting to know me or just making chitchats. When asked about my ethnicity, I would always tell them that I am a local who studied elsewhere and thus have a different accent.  When asked how old I am, I usually say, "older than you." They would give me a smile. They loved it when they were younger than me.  I was often asked how many children I have, where my partner/ girlfriend/wife/husband/ friend is or are, or why I am still single. 

I have a blast replying jokingly when I see the driver as friendly, but I also have moments of frustration when the person does not stop pestering me. There was a time when the driver was asking to borrow some money.  

Driver: Can I borrow money from you? 1000 only. Ok, 500 only. I'll give you my mobile number.

Another time, the driver wanted to get my mobile number to chat with me. 

Driver: Can I call you because you are funny. I want to be your friend.  

There was a time when I was asked to teach the other person English. 

Driver: Can you teach me English? I will call you every day, and you will talk to me.

But the best, of which I am still in disbelief, was when some asked if they could sleep in my house or if we could stay in a motel. I probably look so lonely. 

Driver: Can I sleep in your house? Or, do you want to sleep with me? 

The gist of this post is to remind myself of my adventures and misadventures when I travel alone in public.  One day, as I sit down in my rocking chair, a smile will be plastered on my face reminiscing these silly questions and my sillier way of answering them.