I think it’s only fitting for theFrinkleFiles relaunch to feature a taxi story (cab for those of you not on my side of the pond), as it did on its initial launch.
Picture it. New York City. April. 2015. Warm Spring Day.
Now, I don’t know if it’s me. (This is where you say “no, it’s not you.”), but are all taxi drivers completely and utterly FREAKING INSANE. (This is where you say “yes, they are.”)
In my mind, I picture them being woken up in the morning by their alarms. Pressing snooze. Pressing snooze again. Pressing snooze a last time. (Because statistically — according to “experts” most people press snooze at least three times every morning. It’s true. Look it up!)
See….I was right….
But I digress. (This is where you say “yes, you are.”)
They wake up. Drag their butts out of bed. Sloth (love that word) to the bathroom. Look in the mirror and say “today, I shall scare the pants out of an out-of-towner in my yellow chariot.” Then he trundles (using all the big words today) down the stairs, climbs into his taxi, and sets the mood for the day to “Stop.Go.Scream” and heads straight for poor little ol’ clueless me.
If you’ve read the first FrinkleFile ever published, you’ll know I’m no stranger to these sorts of taxi rides.
I was just settling into the 45-minute taxi ride, when I noticed the first problem I was going to have.
I mean the kind of leather …… (I didn’t check the label so I have no idea if it was leather…but it’s really not important — semantics.) ….. The kind of leather that so shiny and slippery, everytime the taxi driver brakes, my butt is basically on the floor in front of me. (this is where you say “you poor darling.”
I’ll give you a moment to picture it.
Now I’ll wait for you to stop laughing!
Yes you did, I clearly heard it.
No need to argue.
The second issue was the traffic.
Now my sweet, little ol’ taxi driver (see, I can be polite) and his little yellow chariot, were getting well and truly into the “Stop.Go.Scream.” mood for the day.
Every 23 seconds, he changed lanes. I counted them. Everytime. Followed by a sharp break and a quick speed up.
1..2..3..4..5..6..7..8..9..10..11..12..13..14..15..16..17..18..19..20.21..22..23… Stop…..Go…..Pause for the scream….. Rinse and repeat. For 45 minutes.
I know he was watching me. For a reaction. I hope I didn’t show too much terror through my clenched eyes.
The second problem….no ….. the third problem … see … traumatized …. I found was yellow-chariot-taxi-drivers ability to take corners. Or the lack thereof.
I had a dilemma. On whether to jump ship or not. (I know it’s a car, not a ship. Thanks for pointing that out.) To be honest, I wasn’t sure getting out and using a different taxi would’ve worked. Given my experience with taxi drivers.
I stayed put.
We eventually arrived safe and sound at the airport.
One extra grey hair … not that you would notice it of course …. No you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t!
My solution for taxi’s. Instead of putting those little TVs in the back of taxi’s, they really should have a sick bucket. At least in my taxi’s.