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Carol Perkins: The taxi ride "You would be very sorry if you got us killed," our intrepid columnist, a travel writer in this column, warned the cab driver, whom she and three other passengers each peppered with more driving advice than Hyacinth Bucket dishes out in Keeping up appearances on liberal Tv. The next earlier Carol Perkins store, Christmas on Christmas Island? By Carol Perkins The first cab could not take us to our hotel because we had too many pieces of luggage to fit inside his car. He waved for the next in line. There were three of us and each brought a big suitcase and a carryon. We planned to do some serious Christmas shopping during our four day visit. The next cab was a little larger, so we rolled our luggage in the rain while the smiling cab driver happily greeted us and then stuffed each bag in the trunk. He wasn't as tall as I, and I only say that because when he got behind the wheel, he needed a booster seat to see over the steering wheel. I like my cab drivers to be able to see the road. He couldn't speak English, but most cab drivers in cities can't. I didn't care about that until I realized how necessary it was going to be to get us to our hotel. What I soon learned that he couldn't understand English either. I repeated three times the location and he shook his head as if he understood but then asked me again. I could vaguely understand what he was asking. When he became totally perplexed, he called someone and in his own language, I am sure he was asking for directions. While he is talking and certainly not paying any attention to the three of us, I turned to those in the back and say, "I don't think he knows where he is going." Instead of taking us out of the airport by the route I would recognize, we ended up at the end of the Delta terminal, which was not where we should have been. We circled and circled as the meter clicked and the rain poured. I asked, "Do you know where you are going?" He smiled and nodded. I assumed the role of navigator, whether he wanted one or not. I directed him out of the terminal based on the flow of traffic, but he had a hard time following my directions. By the time I said something twice, he was weaving from lane to lane in front of other cabs. I knew we were in danger when he ran the first red light. "YOU RAN A RED LIGHT!" I yelled. "Sorry." He continued to smile "You would be very sorry if you got us killed." Then he found a path. Buildings looked familiar, but the windows were so steamed I wasn't sure we were headed into the city. While he was on the phone, I told the women in the back to watch out the right hand window and I would watch the left because so far he had pulled into oncoming traffic on both sides. Horns honked and brakes screeched. "Can't you see those cars?" He lowered his window and my window to clear them off. "Now I see. See, I see now. You see now?" "You should have done that before you pulled out in front of those cars." He smiled and nodded. After straddling the center line, causing drivers to swerve, and slowing down to a crawl on ramps leading to major bridges, while consulting on the phone with his buddy who was trying to help him find the location, I had to think of some way to get us out of that car. Plus for some reason he kept looking up at the sky as if he were spotting incoming planes. Fed up, I shouted, "Take us to the nearest hotel!" I knew we would never find a cab if he let us out where we were. "You want to go to the Plaza?" "How long?" I was beginning to talk like him. "Ten minutes." In ten minutes I visualized death. "How long to our hotel?" "Ten minutes. See, we almost there." Why, then, was he going to take us to the Plaza? I began to read street signs for him and in about ten minutes of white knuckle fear, I spotted our hotel. "There it is!" I said with overflowing joy and gratitude. "I see. This is good." Just when I thought the nightmare was over, he couldn't get on the right street to take us to the front entrance. He circled the block, took a turn too soon, and circled again. "Just let us out!" I ordered. He put on the brakes and nearly threw me through the windshield. "Ok, Ok, you want out here. You walk?" he said smiling. "Yes, we want out here." He unloaded our luggage a block from our hotel and said, "Sorry" about fifty times. At that moment, I just nodded. My life had been in the hands of a crazy man. One of my friends climbed out of the back and said, "I have ridden with taxi drivers in Tijuana, Mexico who didn't scare me like you did!" He didn't understand. As we rolled our luggage down the street in the cold rain, each of us with wet feet and a soggy disposition, we knew whatever happened next would pale in comparison. Email Carol at cperkins@scrtc.com Give the gift that will keep your family and friends laughing all year long . Give them Let's Talk About... a collection of over 70 of Carol's favorite stories, many you have never read. Send check, cash, or money order to Carol Perkins, P.O. Box 134, Edmonton, KY 42129 for the special price of just $12 (regularly $15). Every stocking needs a book! This story was posted on 2009-12-28 06:26:00
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Have comments or corrections for this story? Use our contact form and let us know. More articles from topic Carol Perkins:
Carol Perkins: Christmas on Christmas Island? Carol Perkins: Small town department stores Carol Perkins: Hypnotized Carol Perkins: On the Pond Bank Carol Perkins: GPS Carol Perkins: Deliver the Letter, The Sooner the Better Carol Perkins: The Fortune Teller Carol Perkins: Dating Carol Perkins: The Bird Carol Perkins: The Bullfight View even more articles in topic Carol Perkins |
 
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