I work evenings in a small-town taxi dispatch office. A man calls in, already frustrated.

Customer: “Yeah, I’ve been standing at the taxi rank outside the central train station for fifteen minutes. Where are your cabs?! I had to Google you guys!”

Me: “Did you call ahead to book one?”

Customer: “No. Why should I? I’m at the taxi lane. That’s how it used to work!”

Me: “We don’t leave cars sitting around just in case. We send them out when someone calls.”

Customer: “That’s ridiculous! So what, you want me to stand here all night?”

Me: “I can have one there in six minutes.”

Customer: “Hmph. Fine. But this system’s stupid. Cabs should be there already. Upgrade your system!”

Me: “We did! We upgraded from hope to scheduling.”

Related:
Taxing Taxiing, Part 10
Taxing Taxiing, Part 9
Taxing Taxiing, Part 8
Taxing Taxiing, Part 7
Taxing Taxiing, Part 6

I drive a taxi in the city, and I pick up a sharply dressed man around 8:15 AM on a weekday. He’s clearly in a hurry.

Customer: *Getting in, already impatient.* “Union Station, fast. I’ve got a train at 8:30.”

Me: “It’s tight, but I’ll do my best.”

Customer: *As we hit the first red light.* “Can’t you go around? Or maybe use the sidewalk or something? I’m serious.”

Me: “Sir, I’d rather not lose my license over your Amtrak reservation.”

Customer: “Well, back where I’m from, cabbies actually hustle.”

Me: “And back where you’re from, do trains wait for people who yell at traffic lights?”

Customer: “Well… I was going to give you a decent tip.”

Me: “Cool, maybe instead spend some of that on a watch.”

Related:
A Lack Of Planning On Your Part…, Part 7
A Lack Of Planning On Your Part…, Part 6
A Lack Of Planning On Your Part…, Part 5
A Lack Of Planning On Your Part…, Part 4
A Lack Of Planning On Your Part…, Part 3

I’m driving a rideshare taxi and pick up a customer outside a bar on a busy Saturday night. As soon as she sits down, she looks around with displeasure.

Passenger: “Do you have a phone charger?”

Me: “I’m afraid not.”

Passenger: *Tuts.* “I’ll just have a water, then.”

Me: “I don’t have any waters. I got a few mints?”

Passenger: “I’m paying extra for a surge right now! Is this really how you expect to get five stars?”

Me: “I’d roll out the red carpet, but it’s buried under my gym bag…”

The rest of the ride was blissfully silent.

I work on large merchant vessels, so I am often months out to sea. I am from the Philippines and so have returned home for a rest.

I am in Legazpi, Philippines. “The Avengers” just came out (summer 2012), and I’m going to go watch it at the local theater in town. The ship just left the city, and I am relieved of duty; it is now vacation time for me after months at sea, sailing from Perth, AU to Legazpi, PI via the treacherous Makassar Straits. So, “The Avengers” it is!

After the movie, it is dark out, and I wander around town and get lost. I am trying to find a way back to my hotel, but Legazpi is a bit difficult to navigate by foot.

This guy in his motorcycle sidecar taxi/tuk-tuk zooms up to me.

Driver: “Are you lost?”

Me: “I’m okay, I don’t need a taxi.”

Driver: “Come on, get in! I’ll take you to the town festival; it’s free!”

I oblige, and he speeds off with me inside.

Driver: “My friend, you were about to get mugged by those dozen squatters.”

He may be fishing for a fare, or maybe he isn’t. To me, though, his face and demeanor genuinely come off as a hardworking, super nice guy. If he isn’t, well… then I applaud him for being an amazing actor, and he’s in the wrong line of work.

We chill at the festival and get to know each other over a couple of beers (on me). Afterward, he takes me down this dark, dark path, and I get a bit apprehensive. He keeps saying:

Driver: “Don’t worry, I’m taking you to my house for dinner!”

And yes, he takes me to his tiny friggin’ shack of a house near the ocean for dinner. His wife is cooking, and he has two tiny kids running around happy that their daddy is back home. We eat a great meal, and he drops me off back at the hotel.

Driver: “No charge.”

Me: “What the h***? Take my $20!”

Driver: “Nope.”

Me: “Okay, fine. How about $40, and you show me the Mayon Volcano and all the cool stuff around here tomorrow?”

He accepted.

The next morning came around, and he showed up at my hotel. We took off, and he took me to these Dutch church ruins that were decimated by a volcanic eruption in the 1600s or 1700s, hiked all around these awesome caves, and strolled around the black sand beaches. We had a h*** of a time.

I gave him $60 USD; I hid an extra $20 behind one $20 as the bills were crisp enough that I could kind of make it seem like one bill. He discovered this as I was walking away, and I laughed at him and waved back. He had no choice but to keep it. I wished him and his family well. He is/was a good person.

We kept in touch via email, though he didn’t have his own computer, nor did he have his own email address (he wasn’t tech-savvy). He’d use his friends’ email addresses to email me about his kids and stuff over the next few years.

We still chat quite often now. His daughter is about to graduate high school, his youngest is studying very hard, and I was able to help him get a new engine for his tuk-tuk because his old one broke down.

I’m a taxi driver in San Francisco. We currently have very heavy fog so I’m driving extra cautiously. My passenger sighs loudly and says:

Customer: “There’s a funeral home out there somewhere looking for you to be their hearse driver.”

Me: “There’s a hearse out there looking for you to be in it if I drive faster in this fog.”

I still got my five stars.