An Exercise in Avoiding Boredom

Today’s travel story (sorry, can’t help it) is about the cab driver who took me from my home to the airport. First of all, he was late, and then he couldn’t find my home address. In this day and age a cab driver without a navi is surprising, but he didn’t have one. In any case, I ran out into the street waving him down after I saw him pass by the entrance to where I live a couple of times.

My cab driver was an agitated Indian, and the trip to the airport was equally thrilling. Apparently, he couldn’t cope with other cars driving in front of him. Maybe it was that I had said that we were running low on time. He did one stunt maneuver after the other; I didn’t worry, most of this felt like fun, like a roller coaster ride in an amusement park.

The final episode of this entertaining mayhem was getting a receipt for the trip at the airport. He actually didn’t have any of those little pieces of paper where they put down from where to where, who drove, and how much it cost. He first searched through his front compartment, producing only an old bag of potato chips. He then searched through the trunk where he didn’t find anything else either.

Then it struck him. Other cab drivers to the rescue! He jumped in front of the next cab departing from the curbside, waving wildly, bringing it to a screeching halt. Sure enough, the other cab driver gave him an empty receipt that I now hold in my possession.

Whoa, da fliegt mir doch das Blech weg, as they say in Germany.

UPDATE: It just occurred to me that I seem to like blogging about taxi experiences.