Taxing Taxiing, Part 2

| Dallas, TX, USA | Working | May 2, 2017

(I have to catch a flight home early in the morning and because I get terribly ill from synthetic fragrance & most cabs use it, I am very lucky to hear about an unscented driver. When I call to book I suggest he get me at 5:00 am but he insists 5:20 will give us plenty of time. That night an intense storm occurs and when I wake up it is still raining very, very hard. I am waiting under the breezeway for the apartment complex, with my luggage. 5:20 rolls around and still no cab. 5:25, he calls.)

Cabbie: “Hi! I don’t know where your building is so I’m waiting at the [Gas Station & Convenience Store a block away].”

Me: “But…! I can’t carry my stuff that far and I’d be soaked!”

Cabbie: “Well, I wasn’t sure how to find you.”

Me: “Do you need me to tell you the address again?”

Cabbie: “No, I have it.”

Me: *thinking, ‘Isn’t finding addresses what cabbies DO?’* “Well, I need you to come get me. It’s really easy. You see the sign a block west of you, for [Grocer]?”

Cabbie: “Yeah.”

Me: “Okay, well, just turn into the alley behind them. Our back wall faces their back wall.”

(I eventually see a van (but since he is a private driver there is no light on the roof to indicate it is a cab, so I am unsure if it’s him) creeping slowly along from the right direction. However instead of turning into the alley as I instructed, it parks on the main street a quarter block away. I  start to run out toward it, when it approaches, but when it parks I figure it is not the right vehicle, so I duck back under the breezeway. By now it’s 5:45 and I am very scared of missing my flight. I call the cabbie again.)

Me: “Are you still lost? What info do you need?”

Cabbie: “Well, I thought I saw you but I must be at the wrong place… Someone came out but they went back in.”

Me: “Uhm… I think that WAS me. I wanted to wait under the roof so I wouldn’t get rained on. Why can’t you just come to my building?”

Cabbie: “Well, you see me… Just come get in!”

Me: “But it’s raining so hard! And I have heavy bags! Please just pull into the alley.”

(I see the van start up and it moves towards me. But he stops at the sidewalk right before entering the alley, as though afraid of the giant puddle there. I am freaking out about the time so after he sits there a minute I give up and grab all my luggage (very stupid with my bad back) and run to the van. My expensive orthopedic shoes get soaked, and my socks… I had wet feet until I get home at 10:00 that night! Dude doesn’t apologize or even look stressed. It’s as though he thinks this is normal.  The worst is yet to come, though. He straddles the lane-divider line most of the way, swerving violently (I hope, to avoid potholes, but who knows) and basically driving like he’s drunk. I don’t think he was, though, as I didn’t smell liquor. He seems extremely old, though, so I suspect his vision may have been failing. We get to the airport five minutes past my check-in deadline!)

Cabbie: “Just hold on and I’ll come around and open the door for you.”

Me: *finally snapping, after never standing up for myself before in 40 years of life* “SERIOUSLY?! You nearly killed us twenty times on the drive here. You made me wade through ankle deep alley water, carrying 80 lbs of luggage. You made me late, and I may miss my flight, because you insisted we leave late and then you couldn’t do the basic task of finding an address. And you decide NOW to start caring about customer service?! I don’t need you to open the flipping door!”

Cabbie: *looks sheepish* “Uh, you don’t need to tip me.”

(Yeah. As if I was gonna.)

 

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