She has been walking for a long time now and doesn't know where she is. She should have waited for them. If only she knew were she was. She drank too much again. Confused, she thought she was not in that city. She thought it was a place she knew better. Crossing a street, she wishes she had her glasses. Someone yells something. Is he talking to her? She better go check.
It's a cab, only it's not. She thinks it's a cab. She's confused; the alcoholic fumes are surrounding her brain. Does she want a lift home? Of course. She gets in the car. He tells her she wasn't going the right way. She knew that already. He doesn't stop talking; her head hurts.
It's not a cab. It can't be cab, there's no meter. What is it then? Why doesn't he shut up? She can't concentrate. He talks funny, there something wrong with him. Where are they now? Fright insinuates itself through the fumes. She wishes it didn't. He's still talking. Maybe she should say something.
She is nearly asleep. He stops the car; she's home. She moves to pay him, but he doesn't want her money. She stumbles out of the car. He hands her a flyer saying, "If you want to order pizza, sometime." He's a pizza delivery guy, not a taxi driver.