Daily prompt.

More entries.

Missive : You’re stranded in a foreign city for a day with no money and no friends. Where do you go; what do you do?

If I really have no money, I’ll just park off at the place where my ticket will take me next. Presuming my tickets were not also stolen with my money.

If that’s the case I suppose it’s the consulate for me.

Or I’ll have to join the ladies of the night to make a few bucks to get out of the spot in question. Where I’ll be noticed by an insanely rich bachelor test-driving his new Maserati, picked up and taken on the trip of my life. He will let me cry on his shoulder at the unfairness of being in a strange place with no money and no friends. He will commiserate with me about the unluckiness of having my whole purse stolen. He will go with me to the consulate to sort out the passport issue. Use his infinite riches to smooth the way through all the bureaucracy. He will take me to tea in one of the best hotels. And then he will tell me why he picked me up. And it will have nothing to do with actual sex. He saw I was not your usual lady of the night. And he needed somebody normal to introduce to his grandmother as his fiance. Her dying wish is to see him happy, and him being such a good grand son will move heaven and earth to make that happen. Since we happen to fall madly in love during the whole excursion, it’s all good.

Most likely though, I’ll be spotted by the police and picked up and deported back to my home country after a stint in the local jail where I’ll make an unlikely friend in the shape of Petula the Pariah, a woman of uncertain origin, in and out of jail with a heart as big as Africa. She will keep me safe from the other doxies in the holding cell with us. We will exchange addresses and never write to one another. But we will hold the memories of our time together close to our hearts.

In all possibility though, this will never come to pass. My general aura of leave-me-alone-ness is usually enough of a deterrent to any and all close comers. I don’t get bugged by informal sellers on the side of the road, or impromptu sales people. And so far, not by pick pockets either. Touch wood!! Then again, the chances of me stuck in a strange country with no money is not likely, since I never go anywhere – not having money for much else besides surviving.

But, never say never – anything is always possible. And maybe an adventure of this kind will do me the world of good. And if that’s not tempting fate, I don’t know that is!!

So please Fate. I’m not taunting you. I’m just playing with what the WP daily prompt has given me. I don’t really want to be robbed and left to rot in a place I don’t know.

Not having friends is not a major biggie – it’s my usual state of being. But not having money, even though that’s also my usual state, at least in familiar places I can make a plan. In unfamiliar places though, I’ll stick to what I know, and that will probably be the airport 😉

Have a good evening folks – I’m off to my dancing social again tonight…

17 comments on “Stranded.

  1. Pingback: Stranded But Not Abandoned (A short story) | The Jittery Goat

    • Was just having fun with something that could be an absolute disaster AD 😉
      Glad you liked it 🙂
      And the dancing was, as always, the most fun I’ve had all week!

  2. Sounds like being stranded can be fun like the end in pretty woman
    I love fast cars too and lost into something special
    Have a beautiful evening
    ║║╔═╦╦╦═╗*. . *
    ║╚╣║║║║╩╣* Daniel•*´¨`*•

    • Ah. Air Supply – those were the days Daniel 😉
      Such is the stuff fairy tales are made of – maybe not something to look forward too, but one can definitely strive to the semblance of it.
      have a pleasant rest 🙂

  3. Pingback: Daily Prompt: Stranded In A Strange Land | My Daily Prompt Blog

  4. That is why I never go anywhere, except in my imagination.

    When I was 19, one of my boyfriends abandoned me at 2 a.m. in the middle of Paris after we had an argument. That was scary, as I couldn’t speech French and had no idea how to find my way back to the cheapo guest house in the student quarter. Fortunately, I discovered a young English poet (who knew his way around Paris) sitting musing in an all night cafe. That was not the start of a big romance, as he was gay 🙂

    • Yeah – they’re always gay! Buggrit!
      Can imagine how scary that must have been!
      and going someplace in your imagination is not always a bad thing 😉

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