A break from our regularly scheduled science coverage to report on an SfN social event + a slightly-bitter commentary on Yellow Cab service of San Diego….
So. Monday night finally rolled around- the night of the Lady GABA throwdown at Stingaree in downtown San Diego. The place was pretty crowded (as was anticipated) and the DJ was pretty good! A clip of some of the sing-along to the music below: ( note:it was dark, so this is more for audio than video really)
The party was slated to officially end at 2 am, so around 1:30 am, my friends and I decided we’d try to beat the rush and catch a cab back to the hotel. After waiting around a few minutes and realizing there were no cabs in sight, we decided to call one up. So, I called Yellow Cab. The representative assured me that there should be one there “soon” as there are “plenty of cabs in downtown”. Well. This statement, dear reader, was kind of… a lie.
After 10 minutes, a Yellow Cab did pull up – but another group of drunk friends flagged it down. “Wait…is that our cab?” my friend, Kira asked me. We weren’t sure, so while the group of 5-6 drunk friends battled it out over who should get in the cab we tried asking the driver if he had been called up or not (he shook his head no) – and quite unnecessarily, one of the girls in the group put up her hand to my friend’s face and said in a most condescending tone: “Honey, we got this.” We should have just gotten in the cab while their friends were arguing it out. Hindsight is a powerful thing.
So after another 10 minutes, I called up Yellow Cab again. I spoke with the same lady who assured me that our cab was on its way – “Number 63,” she said to me, “it should be there soon.” Alright, well – at least we were altogether. We waited and waited, then waited some more. Finally, after forty-five minutes of waiting, I called up, yet again.
It’s unfortunate that I didn’t get the same lady because it was really she who deserved to get a piece of my mind. Instead, someone named Robert answered the phone. I began to explain what happened and he responded unperturbed and quite matter-of-factly: “there aren’t any cabs available.” When I told him that not only were we assured at the outset that there were plenty of cabs available, we were given the specific number of a cab (63) – he said, “she lied to you.”
Indeed. Well, dear reader, you may be wondering if I tried calling up another cab company at this point. I did. I called Orange cab. No lies this time. Just someone who told me that there was no one he could send out but that we should try walking to the Mariott next to the Convention Center to see if we could find any out there. So, we begrudgingly, began ambling our way over. If a picture is worth a thousand words, then a video is surely worth a hundred thousand.
There is a happy ending to the story. About a minute after I ended the recording, Staci and Kira were finally able to hail a cab (hallelujah!) and when the driver turned up the radio and “Promiscuous Girl” started playing, we didn’t even care. We were warm, we were off our feet, and we were finally heading back to the hotel where some warm beds awaited us.