It Isn’t The Wild West Anymore

, , , , | Right | April 12, 2018

(I work as a cab driver in Las Vegas. While I have a fair share of stupid customers, this one really takes the cake. I accept the radio call telling me to pick up a passenger at the public bus depot downtown. As I am on my way there, I call the customer to verify where I am picking them up. It is near sunset.)

Passenger: “I’m standing at [Street] and [Wrong Street Name].”

Me: “Do you mean [Correct Street Name]? That puts you on the east side of the building. I can only pick you up on [Street], on the west side of the building.”

Passenger: “Well, I just moved here and don’t know where that is.”

Me: “It’s on the west side of the building.”

Passenger: “I don’t know which direction that is.”

Me: *proceeds to pull over and slam forehead onto steering wheel*

An A-mall-ing Lack Of Attention

, , , , | Right | April 8, 2018

(My house is right across the street from a strip mall which, while occasionally convenient, doesn’t have a grocery store. I’m waiting at a bus stop so I can go to a different mall, which does sell food, when a very nice taxi driver parks beside the bus stop.)

Taxi Driver: “Do you need a ride somewhere?”

Me: “Yes, thank you.”

(I get in the cab and this happens.)

Taxi Driver: “Where would you like to go?”

Me: “Not too far, just to [Mall across the street].”

Taxi Driver: “That’s right here; can’t you walk?”

Me: “Not that mall, I mean the one with [Grocery Store].”

Taxi Driver: “What mall is that?”

Me: “Well… um… It has [Restaurant exclusive to that mall].”

Taxi Driver: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Me: “I’ll take the bus. Sorry about that.”

Taxi Driver: “That’s okay.”

(I got out of the cab. That’s when it occurred to me that I didn’t know the name of the mall where I had been buying my food for four years. I started paying more attention after that.)

This Taxi Entitlement Condition Is Terminal

, , , | Right | April 2, 2018

(It’s the last day of a college class trip to France. Some in our group have pooled money for a van to take us to the airport. As we’re all putting our luggage into the back, an American couple and their older son suddenly dash out of their hotel and yell about their cab going missing. We shrug it off and get in the van. The woman of the couple gets in with us.)

Woman: *in English* “I need you to take us to the airport!”

Driver: “Madame, they paid for me to drive them. You need to call for another cab.”

Woman: “No! Someone took our taxi. You need to drive us! We are late!

(This goes back and forth for a while. The woman refuses to listen to anyone in the van, her own family included. We tell the driver to just take them along, because we know this woman won’t get out. She proceeds to backseat drive the entire way to the airport, though I’m almost certain she has never been to Paris before.)

Driver: *stops somewhere far away from the terminal* “Here you go!”

Woman: “But this isn’t—”

Woman’s Husband: “This is fine. Thank you.” *pays the driver and ushers the family out*

(They have to walk over a concrete divider to get into the nearest building.)

Driver: *to us, in French* “That woman was driving me crazy!”

(He drove us to our terminal, and we gave him as good a tip as we could with the Euros we had left. Be nice to your cabbies, and don’t backseat drive.)


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Unfiltered Story #105498

, , , , , , | Unfiltered | February 15, 2018

One year, me and my friends decide to go to an anime convention for the new year in Austin. We ended up booking tickets with a cheap bus company, and would soon grow to regret it. Though there was a bus station from our home city, arriving in Austin would present us with the company’s ‘station’ there; Namely a completely empty lot, several miles away from our hotel. It wasn’t so bad, except the walk convinced us to call a taxi for when we decided to return.

The day that the convention ended, and that we were supposed to take the bus home, we checked out of our hotel and began to enjoy the last day. A few hours before our bus was supposed to leave, I call a taxi to arrive at our hotel at a specific time. Nothing seems out of the ordinary…until the taxi arrives well over an hour before it was supposed to.

Not wanting to be standing in an empty lot, in the middle of Austin, I asked the taxi to come back in an hour. An hour passes… and the taxi never returned. It becomes a mad dash to find another way there, especially now that it was too late to call another taxi. We managed to find one of our friends from our hometown, who had driven and, therefore, had a car available. They drove us to the lot where the bus was supposed to be, with a good 5-10 minutes to spare, only to find that the bus HAD ALREADY LEFT.

Me and my friends were now stranded in Austin, with no hotel room, and the soonest bus from another company leaving early the next morning. (At this point it was only ten at night.) Two of the four of us decided to camp out at the bus station (an actual station), in order to catch the earliest possible bus. The friend who had given us a ride offered to let us stay in their room for the night, since they weren’t going to check out until the next day, and would drive us to the station in the morning.

Thankfully we were able to get home safely, without any other incidents. But that cheap bus company has most certainly made it where I’m never going to use it again!

Windscreen And A Smokescreen

, , , , , | Learning | January 30, 2018

(Since my school is a bit inaccessible by public transport, they’ve made arrangements with a taxi company for a carpooling scheme. Our driver is nice enough, but he’s also a heavy smoker. Obviously, he’s not allowed to smoke with us in the car, but he often attempts to circumvent this by filling it up with smoke before picking me up at the start of his route. Some variation of this conversation usually follows. I get in the car, immediately smell the smoke, and open the window.)

Driver: “It’s not that hot. We don’t need the window open.”

Me: “There’s smoke everywhere. I’m letting it out.”

Driver: “You’ll get used to the smell in a minute. Just leave it.”

Me: “It’s not the smell I’m worried about; it’s more than a dozen types of toxins.”

Driver: “Just live a little. You’re supposed to be experimenting with these things at your age.”

Me: “It’s because I want to live that I don’t want to passively smoke.”

(On one occasion, he tries locking the windows.)

Me: “You need to open this.”

Driver: “I’m fed up with you letting all the cold air in. So, I’m locking them from now on.”

Me: “If you don’t unlock it, I’ll tell the school and your boss what you’re doing.”

Driver: “Fine!” *opens the window*

(If the journey was delayed by traffic, he’d often snap and lean out the window for a quick smoke. Seriously, couldn’t he just hold it for an hour?)

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