Another Reason Why Women Need To Take The Wheel

, , , , | Working | June 12, 2019

(I’m 18 and staying at a friend’s house the night before I get an early coach to the airport. This is my first time getting a flight alone so I’m pretty nervous. I pack up early and book a ride through a well-known taxi app. My friend lives on a road that has one main section with two smaller roads coming off of it but they’re all named the same street and just numbered as if it’s one road. As this can be confusing, I’ve made sure my location is clearly marked for pick up on the app and have left extra time. Despite this, the driver is still late and won’t answer his phone before eventually showing up.)

Driver: “What are you stood down here for?”

Me: “This is where I arranged pickup from, see?” *points to his phone screen on the dash*

Driver: “Well, it wasn’t showing that a minute ago. Anyway, coach station, right. I’m not going the way this thing tells me. Google Maps is rubbish; it always takes you the slow way.”

Me: “Right…”

(I’m a bit concerned but don’t want to tell a taxi driver how to drive, and the city can be a bit strange if there’s roadwork that Google doesn’t know about.)

Driver: “Where are you getting a coach to, then?”

Me: “The airport.”

Driver: “The airport? Why aren’t you driving there?”

Me: “Oh, I can’t drive.”

Driver: *laughs* “Good! That’s for the best. Women are terrible drivers; it’s best they keep you off the roads. Every crash I’ve been in was caused by a woman driver. I don’t know why they’re allowed. Don’t you think, when they’ve shown with all those tests that women are worse at driving, that they should have to pass a harder test?”

Me: “I actually did a psychology degree, and the tests really don’t show that women are worse drivers. The spatial experiment studies show that—“

Driver: “Now, now, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’m just saying it’s good you can’t drive. Anyway— Oh. Where are we? Oh, blast it, I took a wrong turning. Hang on.”

(He drives hurriedly, and pretty dangerously at times, in a really random route. I’m getting a bit nervous because I’m close to being late for my coach even with the extra time I’ve allowed.)

Me: “Um, I think you need to take a right here.”

Driver: “Don’t you worry. I know what I’m doing. I was only kidding about being lost.”

(He ignores me and carries on straight, ending up opposite from the coach stop with four lanes of traffic between me and my coach, which is already at its stop.)

Me: “I can’t get out here!”

Driver: “Ugh. One second, then. We’ll turn around. Is that your coach?”

Me: “Yes!”

Driver: “Calm down! We’ll make it!”

(He turns the car around and goes down the road I indicated before, just in time to see the coach pull out of its stop. I stare at it in shock.)

Driver: “Oh, dear. Well, next time, be sure to be where you booked the pickup for; we lost a lot of time messing around.”

(I wordlessly got out, still in shock, as he got my bags out and then left me at the side of the road. I ended up having to get the next coach at a cost of another £25 and barely made it to the airport in time for my flight. I already have an anxiety disorder and was too anxious to deal with customer service so I didn’t make a complaint, though did give him a one-star review.)

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It’s Not About The F****** Eggs

, , , , , | Romantic | June 3, 2019

(I live south of an airport that spans two major metropolitan areas. Since I don’t have a car, anytime I need to travel, I’ll take a rideshare up to the airport. It helps if I can split the cost, but on this particular day I call the rideshare by myself and get in alone.)

Driver: “Oh, you’re going to the airport today. Is [Airline] the right stop? Where are you flying?”

Me: “Yeah, [Airline]’s the right one. I’m just going back home for the holidays to visit my family.”

Driver: “How horrible. My wife makes me visit her family all the time.”

Me: “I don’t really mind it, actually. I haven’t seen them in a while since we live in different states, so it’ll be nice to visit with them again.”

Driver: “Right. Whatever. I just hate when she makes me do stuff like that.”

Me: “Yeah… families can be a lot, I guess.”

(I’m uncomfortable with the turn the conversation has taken, so I pretend to be on my phone for a bit. Fortunately, the car isn’t silent, since the driver has the radio on. Unfortunately, after about five minutes he turns up the volume — way up. It’s heavy metal music, and the lyrics are both sexually explicit and profane. I’m trying my best to ignore it when the music is cut off by a shrill ringing. The driver swears, almost swerves into another lane, and then presses a button on his phone. It’s not a call; he’s FaceTiming someone with his phone volume all the way up. He doesn’t turn the music down, either, so when he starts talking he’s practically screaming.)

Driver: “Hey, honey!”

Driver’s Wife: “Where are you? I thought that was your last ride?”

Driver: “Yeah, I’m just going to the airport.”

Driver’s Wife:What?! The airport?! But you still need to get groceries!


Driver’s Wife:No, you moron. I’m picking up the f****** kids!”

Driver: “Well, you didn’t tell me not to go to the airport!”

Driver’s Wife: “I didn’t think I needed to tell you not to go all the way up to f****** Seattle. My parents are coming tonight, you f****** moron, and we’re all out of f****** eggs!

Driver: “Well, I’m already driving there, so you can’t f****** expect me to just dump my passenger by the side of the road or something, you stupid b****! You should’ve told me this morning!”

Driver’s Wife: “Told you?! Told you?! Are you a grown-a** man, or are you a f****** child?!”

(The driver is gesticulating angrily by this point, swerving all over the place, and nearly hitting several other cars. He continues arguing with his wife for another twenty minutes or so, both of their voices steadily increasing in pitch as the conversation goes on.)


Driver’s Wife:You?! Give me money?! You useless, unemployed son-of-a-b****! You can’t even afford–

(By coincidence, my phone dings, and the wife goes quiet… for all of two seconds.)

Driver’s Wife: “Do you have a f****** passenger in there?! Am I on speaker?!

Driver: “Uh… oh, here, um, your gate—“

(He swung across three lanes of traffic, pulling to the curb in front of a completely different airline than the one I was flying with. He pressed the button to unlock my door and waved at me to get out. I got out by myself, pulled my own bags out of the trunk, and nearly got hit when he tore away. And the whole time, from just outside the car, I could still hear both his music and his wife’s screeching in crystal-clear sound. Oh, and since the airline he’d dropped me off at was on the completely wrong side of the airport, I ended up missing my flight. But hey… at least his wife got her f****** eggs.)

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Some People Are Just Uber-Awful

, , , | Friendly | May 30, 2019

(I am one of the customers in this situation. I’ve called a taxi since I haven’t been able to flag one down. The taxi is pulling up to the taxi stand, and I am walking over and just about to get in.)

Random Man: *starts getting into my taxi*

Me: “Hey! That’s my taxi!”

Random Man: *ignoring me* “To [Address]. Make it snappy!”

Driver: “Sir, can you get out? I was called here by this lady over here—“

Random Man: “Just do your job, f*****.”

Driver: *pulls the key out of the car, gets out, and leans on the door*

Random Man: “Hey! Motherf*****, what the f*** do you think you’re doing?”

Driver: “Waiting for the proper person to get into my taxi.”

Random Man: *spits in my direction* “This b****? F*** you!”

(He stormed away, and I questioned humanity for the billionth time in my life.)

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It’s More Of An Abstract Idea…

, , , , | Right | May 22, 2019

Me: “[Taxi Service], what’s your address?”

Customer: “[Address].”

Me: “Okay, is that a house, an apartment, or a business?”

Customer: “It’s a building.”

(Well, duh, it’s a building, as anything with an address usually is.)

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Get Them To The Church On Time

, , , , | Right | May 21, 2019

Caller: “Can I get a [premium service] taxi?”

Me: “Well, we do require a half-hour notice for that and—“

Caller: “But it’s my wedding day!”

Me: “…”

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