A Bridge Too Far

| Queens, NY, USA | Working | March 3, 2017

(I’m out with my boyfriend, who is Norwegian, and we’ve just missed the bus. The next one doesn’t come for a while, and we’re both incredibly tired, so we decide to just catch a taxi home to Brooklyn. After finally getting in the taxi, I begin to speak with him in Norwegian in the backseat for privacy reasons. The trip seems to be going normally until I look out the window and realize the driver is taking us on the Williamsburg bridge INTO Manhattan. You can drive directly from Queens to Brooklyn without going into Manhattan.)

Me: “Um, excuse me… Are we going into Manhattan?”

Driver: “No, this is the Williamsburg Bridge; it takes you to Williamsburg.”

Me: “No, this is the Williamsburg Bridge, which connects Williamsburg to Manhattan. We were in Williamsburg. Now we are driving to Manhattan.”

Driver: “No, we’re driving to Williamsburg.”

Me: “Is that why I see the Empire State Building in the direction we’re driving?”

Driver: “…”

(I am silently stewing, knowing he thought he could charge me extra because he thought I was from Norway, while my boyfriend tries to comfort me. We get to the end of the bridge and turn around from Manhattan, to go back into Brooklyn. In the past when taxis have made a false move by accident, they always turn off the meter to account for it. This driver doesn’t. We finally arrive at my destination, and the price is MUCH higher than it should have been.)

Me: “I’m not paying for that. I’ll pay [amount] for the ride. But I’m not going to pay for that $10 of traffic and turning around for no reason.”

Driver: “How about—” *listing number almost as high as the metered fare*

Me: “No.”

Driver: *sighing* “Okay, okay, fine.” *takes my money*

(I wrote down his taxi license and reported him. I had location turned on on my phone, and even had a Google Maps history recording of the ridiculous trip he took me on. I’d never been so pissed before, because no one had ever tried to rip me off thinking I was a tourist in my own city!)

Wicked Taxi Driver Of The West

| Montreal, QC, Canada | Working | January 23, 2017

(I finish working at 2:45 am. By the time I remove my uniform, I take a taxi a 3:05. I give my address to the driver, who obviously thinks I’m a drunk girl getting out of a bar, considering the location and the time. He takes off in the wrong direction.)

Me: “Mister, I live in the east.”

Driver: “I know, we’re going east now.”

(We’re clearly going west, even though I’m tired I still can recognize the streets.)

Me: “No, you’re currently going west. Turn on your GPS. You’re clearly going in the wrong direction.”

Driver: “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ll tell you when we get at your destination.”

Me: “Listen, you’re making me take a detour for nothing. I’d like to get home as soon as possible and not pay more than necessary. Please go east now.”

Driver: “You probably had a couple drinks too much. It’s okay. It happens to the best of us to be lost because of alcohol. I’ll tell you when we get there.”

Me: “Hey. I’ve been up for 18 hours; I just finished my work shift. The last drop of alcohol I drank was many days ago, and I really want to go to bed NOW. If you refuse again to drive me straight home without taking a detour, I’m calling your central to tell them that you’re refusing to take me to my destination. And it’s out of the question that I pay for the detour you just took.”

Driver: “Oh, sorry. I couldn’t know that you weren’t drunk; you’re at the closing hour and downtown…”

(I took note of the taxi’s number to make a complaint.)

More Taxing Than It Should Be

| Iowa City, IA, USA | Working | October 21, 2016

(I call a local taxi service on a Sunday when buses aren’t running. A man answers.)

Man: “Do you need a taxi?”

Me: “Yes, I do—”

Man: “Too bad!” *hangs up*

One Of Them Is Not Very Personable

, | Brisbane, QLD, Australia | Right | September 19, 2016

Caller: “Hi, can I get a maxi taxi?”

Me: “Sure. Is that for a wheelchair or group of people?”

Caller: “There are four people travelling. Two adults and three children.”

Me: “…”

Taxing Pranking

| Chester, England, UK | Right | September 13, 2016

(I work as a telephone and radio operator. I’m responsible for giving jobs out to drivers and taking bookings. In the early evening, I get a call from a fairly young boy.)

Me: “[Taxi Company].”

Kid: “Yeah, I need a taxi, please, as soon as possible. We need to go out within about ten minutes.”

Me: “Okay. What’s the address?”

Kid: “It’s [Address].”

Me: “That’s great, but I don’t recognise you.”

Kid: “Sorry?”

Me: “I don’t recognise your voice at all. I’ve only got two children, as far as I know, and neither of them sound like you.”

Kid: “What?”

Me: “You’ve just requested a taxi from [Address], right?”

Kid: “Yeah.”

Me: “And that’s where you live?”

Kid: “Yeah.”

Me: “That’s where I live, too. Why would you want a taxi from my house?”

(The kid immediately hung up. I phoned my wife, and apparently she’d had a taxi driver knock on the door after waiting outside for five minutes. The kid had sent one car from at least four different companies to our address. No idea where they’d got our address, or why they were doing it, but they stopped after phoning me!)

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