Friday, November 16, 2012

Cabs

Any night I work past 7 o'clock, which is a lot more than I would like to admit, I get to take a cab home. Cabs are funny things. The idea of having someone drive you wherever your heart desires makes you feel like one of the elite or royalty. But the actual experience is far from it.

Cabs smell. They do. There is no denying it. No matter what ethnicity the driver is or what kind of car it is it's a smelly experience. The smell is usually a weird hybrid of cheap car air-freshener and a full grown man's body odor. Look, don't get me wrong, if I sat in an enclosed space for 12 hours a day I'd stink that thing up too. It's inevitable. If you've never experienced cab odor all you have to do is not shower for 2 days, stick a bar of soap up against your arm pit, and then sniff both at the same time. There you go, cab odor.

They never want to take credit cards. They only want cash. One time I owed a driver $20 when I told him I wanted to pay by card he freaked out and practically begged me to pay him in cash. I only had $10. He took it, no hesitation. Are the percentages being taken away from these credit card transactions that big that they'd rather take 1/2 of what I really owe them? That system seems flawed.

Cab drivers are always doing two things: Listening to really loud and weird techno music, and having a phone conversation with someone in a different language. But they're no normal conversations. They're at least 4 hours long (trust me I've peeked at their screens) and the driver is talking in the quietest voice ever. Like he is trying to keep whatever he is saying a secret. First off, who is talking to these guys for 4 hours? And why are they being so quiet about it. Maybe they're talking about how some young white kid just got in their cab and they bet he is going to want to pay me with a credit card.

Last, but not least, cabs are scary dangerous. It seems that every night I get in one I have stepped into an action thriller movie where the driver knows about a bomb on the other side of town and there is a timer counting down the end of civilization as we know it. I watched a cab get up to 80 MPH on service streets. I've gotten slightly, and sometimes more than slightly, car-sick in just about every cab ride home. Can't we just slow down a little. I'll stop trying to listen in on your whispered conversation I can't understand anyway.

Till next time (which I hope isn't too far away). Oh, and for those of you out there already playing Christmas music, please reference isitchristmas.com. There you go. Wait till after Thanksgiving. Give thanks then you can have over a month of holly jolly musical cheer. I am not a Scrooge. I love Christmas. It is one of my most favorite holidays all year. I just think it's getting a little crazy that Christmas creeps out as early as Halloween. If this continues soon we'll be singing songs about some Pumpkin-headed Turkey Claus in the month of Octonovemcember. Respect Thanksgiving. Bye.

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