I miss...

...cities with real cabs. The kind where you get in and give him an address six or seven blocks from your current location, and he knows exactly where it is and how to get there quickly. The kind where he tells you the fare, and you give him a 20 and ask for 12 back (giving a very generous tip on such a short trip) and he actually has ones on hand to give you proper change. The kind where you don't feel guilty when you get out at the end of the ride.

Oh, and while we're on I misses, I miss real bars with real people, not barbie dolls with perfect hair and cakey makeup and the latest designer wear complete with the matching designer handbag. I miss places where you can go in jeans and a sweatshirt and still have the guy at the end of the bar give you a once over. Where the bartender sees you immediately and takes your order and you don't have to fight through six layers of cheesy 24-year-old men doling out lines about working for a diamond seller (y'know, because he's South African and everyone from South Africa must be in the diamond business) to get to the freaking bar. The kind of bar that doesn't emit girly screams because some dude who used to live in a nearby 'burb and now stars on some trashy teen drama (and looks like he wears makeup outside of the sound stage) decided to try it out for a night.

Yeah. It's been that kind of night.