13 13 30. That is the telephone number of Swan Taxis in Perth. If there is one number you should memorize upon touch down here in Perth, that’s the one.

Universal rule: Cabbies anywhere are from somewhere else. Unless they have never left and are so local it kills you to hear them go into ridiculous details of the history of the city (which is not actually that bad— free tour).

I do not partake in after work drinks. Not yet. Not until I feel like it. And I don’t yet. However, I did wear after work drink shoes. This means that I took bus 22 from Beaufort street to Williams street. $2.60. Then I hopped on the Red Cat, a free bus, down Hay street. This brings me to my work. After work, I called the number you see above you. I didn’t want to take the bus in my shoes again. I was just too sexy for it. You understand, ladies.

Aseef picked me up. And that’s when it got weird.

“Hey, how was your day?” Aseef said.

I slumped down in the front seat as if I had been with him before. “Been” in the biblical sense.

“TGIF” I sighed.

“Oh,” he pulled into traffic “that kind of week, eh?”

“Do you believe in God, Aseef?” I literally asked him verbally out loud.

“Sorry?”

“It’s just that, you know, I said, ‘TGIF’ and I am never sure if I should say the actual Thank God It’s Friday or the general, Thank Goodness It’s Friday—”

“Of course. yes yes. Of course.”

The light hearted conversation reached the depths of existentialism before we hit the first red light. I caught a glimpse of myself in his side view mirror and paused for vanity, thinking, bio oil did say it worked on acne scars, but i dont know how i feel about putting oil on my face. but the acne scars are damn near tommy lee jones level lately, i look like edward james olmos or whoever that dude is….

“Where?”

“Sorry?” I said. He must have been able to tell I was zoning off when he told me he was from India but lived in Melbourne for five years before coming to perth.

“Where are you from. North America?”

“yes. California region.” I sure did say region. You should be proud that I didn’t say, “The California wedge.”

Before you know it, I open up about the situation I find myself in. As my story revs up, he gently put his left hand on my knee. But that’s not the weird part. I left it there and my reaction was nil. zero. nothing. I continued on with my story. Then, I glanced up at him, he with the blue toothed left ear, to see a face of a man that said, “Holy shit! This one’s letting me do it!” His thrill made me feel like I just made a tax deductible donation.

His hand never went higher or lower. I felt safe with Aseef and surely in his culture, a hand on a knobby denim knee was like going to third base. Good on ya, Aseef.

He dropped me off. He said, “Good luck with your future legal matters and I wish you well.”

I thanked him and got out of the cab.

Then, he said, “$25.40, please.”

sunbitch.