Thursday, October 14, 2004
The Cabbie Story (hey, macarena)
I shared a cab home with V yesterday, from the film feste.
Wait, perhaps I didn't make myself quite clear.
I shared a cab home. Approximately thirty seconds into the ride, I began to wonder if our cabbie was tripping. This chap was more talkative than... than... a supermodel on mountain dew (heh. inside joke.) As he spoke, I could almost feel dimes raining down onto me by the dozen. Groan. okay another joke nobody gets.
Anyway, Mr SHA 888E told us how he'd just won the Chattiest Driver awards, kindly bestowed upon him by his Dynamic Duo, an Ozzie and Malaysian Chinese Chick pair who were coincidentally enough, his previous passengers, it was wonderful, like winning an emmy...
(Here, re-minisce very carefully let his hand settle subtly near the door opening mechanism... just in case... you never know. V, naturally, looked radiant as the stream of random words washed over her. Re-minisce figured that mebbe this bloke was just out to impress V, she seems to have that effect on men, and taxi drivers in particular.)
Through the course of the drive to her place, the cabbie mentioned that he'd been driving for fifteen hours staight, was braindead, and had been doing this job for a total of ten days. (oo. time to buckle seatbelt)
We dropped V off and continued to my place (because I am a gentleman, you see. I try my utmost to accompany females home in taxis. Preen. Okay fine, I'm not, and I don't always. bugger it.) and here I figured the driver would clam up in the absence of a fresh-faced female who looks at least ten years younger than she truly is.
Lo and behold, he continues nattering happily away (yup, tripping, definitely.) and re-minisce has the honour of discovering the blokes life and family history, and the other jobs he holds, etc.
Anyway, I think it was utterly and completely brilliant, and whoever employs him should give him a raise and a commendation. I've never sat in a friendlier cab in my life, and enjoyed myself quite as much, sans alcohol. Cabbies in london have the same motor mouths as this chap last night did (in contrast to Singaporean cabbies, who generally drive in stony silence, presumably mulling over the philosophical quandries of the human condition) except they generally employ their talents in making friendly remarks about other drivers' abilities (complete with hand gestures, and interesting terms like up yours and you bastard or you filthy cunt) and taking snipes at poor hapless Mr Blair and his cabinet oftoads ministers.
Wait, perhaps I didn't make myself quite clear.
I shared a cab home. Approximately thirty seconds into the ride, I began to wonder if our cabbie was tripping. This chap was more talkative than... than... a supermodel on mountain dew (heh. inside joke.) As he spoke, I could almost feel dimes raining down onto me by the dozen. Groan. okay another joke nobody gets.
Anyway, Mr SHA 888E told us how he'd just won the Chattiest Driver awards, kindly bestowed upon him by his Dynamic Duo, an Ozzie and Malaysian Chinese Chick pair who were coincidentally enough, his previous passengers, it was wonderful, like winning an emmy...
(Here, re-minisce very carefully let his hand settle subtly near the door opening mechanism... just in case... you never know. V, naturally, looked radiant as the stream of random words washed over her. Re-minisce figured that mebbe this bloke was just out to impress V, she seems to have that effect on men, and taxi drivers in particular.)
Through the course of the drive to her place, the cabbie mentioned that he'd been driving for fifteen hours staight, was braindead, and had been doing this job for a total of ten days. (oo. time to buckle seatbelt)
We dropped V off and continued to my place (because I am a gentleman, you see. I try my utmost to accompany females home in taxis. Preen. Okay fine, I'm not, and I don't always. bugger it.) and here I figured the driver would clam up in the absence of a fresh-faced female who looks at least ten years younger than she truly is.
Lo and behold, he continues nattering happily away (yup, tripping, definitely.) and re-minisce has the honour of discovering the blokes life and family history, and the other jobs he holds, etc.
Anyway, I think it was utterly and completely brilliant, and whoever employs him should give him a raise and a commendation. I've never sat in a friendlier cab in my life, and enjoyed myself quite as much, sans alcohol. Cabbies in london have the same motor mouths as this chap last night did (in contrast to Singaporean cabbies, who generally drive in stony silence, presumably mulling over the philosophical quandries of the human condition) except they generally employ their talents in making friendly remarks about other drivers' abilities (complete with hand gestures, and interesting terms like up yours and you bastard or you filthy cunt) and taking snipes at poor hapless Mr Blair and his cabinet of
