The kindness of strangers

Though I would never confuse myself with Blanche DuBois, I do sometimes depend on the kindness of strangers.

December 31st, 2005 was my first New Year's eve away from my family. Over the years my sister and I often bemoaned our parents not letting us go out for the night. We stayed at home showered, dressed up, and sat in the living room watching people party around the world. At the stroke of midnight, we open champagne (no sparkling wine for the k's). My mother always prepares some kind of seafood, I have no idea why, to accompany our champagne. Then at 12:15 am everyone goes to bed, normally leaving me to watch some cheesy romance movie on local television.

This year I was ready. I finally got to say "yes" to my friend's invitations to go out for the night. Since I had never gone to a city and done the whole bar thing, I thought I would give that a try. I dressed up in a black striped dress and gold open toed shoes, very gauche for the winter, but what the heck how often do I wear a dress? Of course, it was snowing that evening, the first time in weeks, but I was not deterred. I met V and C and V's apartment, watched a little more last minute primping, and the off we were.

When we got to Mantra, we waited in line for a few minutes. Lots of drama was all around as drunk girlfriends and boyfriends were rarin' to go, either by dry humping or having large splashy fights. I guess passion can take you either direction. Inside it was crowded, with the largest south east asian community I have ever witnessed in white Boston. We met up with N, D, and another couple shoe name I have already forgotten. It was nice we danced the night away, got hit on, the usual fare.

The party ended at 2:30am. As always the Boston Public transportation system shut down an hour before the parties ended. A conspiracy perhaps? Anyway, V, C and I were desperate to catch a cab. V and C had lost all other feeling but pain in their feet, and were drunk enough not to be able to navigate a straight line, especially on the icy sidewalks. On the stree,t a sea of filled taxicabs passed us by. Everyone was out trying to get a ride home. V saw a group of girls next to us and lamented "Those bitches are hot. They are going to get a cab before us." They in fact did not.

After a good while on the street corner, a van stopped at the stoplight. As a joke, we asked the driver if he would take us home. When the light turned green he did not move. He was talking to the someone on the passenger side. Then he said "Where are you girls going? Actually that is okay, just get in we'll take you home."

Now, on any other day a man with a van may not be a first choice, but we climbed inside the van. In the van were four people, the driver, his blonde girlfriend, her blonde sister, and the sister's boyfriend. The two women were wasted, loud and fabulous. As we were driving, the girlfriend noticed a girl in a silk halter top shivering by herself. The van stopped and she got in too. This girl was having the worst night, as her top was falling off, she did not know where coat was, and her boyfriends was a jerk. Now, we were filled to the brim.

It was snowing quite hard and it was hard to see out the window. We took the poor driver in the most round about way V's apartment. That was okay because the drama in the car was quite entertaining.

When we finally got to the apartment, J, the girlfriend, left us with some sane advice, "Now, no more getting into cars with strangers." You are blitzed, but wise J.

The next morning I could not believed what we had done. But I guess we were in a less than an ideal situation, and I could not imagine having to walk back in ridiculous open toed shoes and two drunk friends. It was a perfect way to ring in the new year, by being reaffirmed that people are essentially kind.

So Tom of Revere with the van if you ever read this "Thank you again, and God bless you."