Haute Couture Withdrawal

I was looking for fares in Wicker Park, a.k.a., hipster land, at North Ave. and Damen. She got in, appearing somewhat distraught, stating, “Thank God you came along – it was icky in there.” I had two questions for her – was she ok, and, without waiting for an answer to the first question, where I could take her. She said urgently, “Just go! Take me where I’ll see Louis Vuittons.” I said I was unsure where she wanted to go, and suggested River North – an area usually viewed as more upscale than the area where she entered the cab. She said she trusted my judgment and River North was fine. She began telling me what was going on in her life, saying she was “newly single.” She said the bar she just left was not for her. She elaborated that she hadn’t seen a single Louis Vuitton in the entire place, so she knew she didn’t belong there. She said she had tried, but decided she could not be in such places. She said I had saved her life by coming along when I did. I suggested she sit back and relax, crack the window, and have a cigarette if she needed it. I usually don’t allow smoking in the cab, but she seemed needing an exception to this rule. She agreed that a cigarette was exactly what she needed, and asked me for a light. I then asked her if she would like to hear some music by my current favorite female, slightly retro-sounding, British songstress. She named a particular artist and song she really wanted to hear. I said I couldn’t make any promises as I use a free music app which ultimately controls the songs it plays, despite one’s best efforts to use its search function. The music she wanted began playing and she seemed visably more at ease. She then specified a club and I drove her to her preferred nightspot. She paid me, leaving a generous tip, and I wished her well as we parted ways. I guess it just goes to show that the seemingly welcoming, unpretentious attitude of hipster bars is not for everyone.
Anyway, cheers all.