Quick rant this morning. What is going on with taxi drivers in the US these days? Here is a sampling of my recent experiences. I have to say I miss the black cabs in the UK. Those drivers are professional and always know where they are going. I've also found that German cab drivers in/around Frankfurt tend to drive by knowledge and not GPS.
- Arrived in Atlanta on Sunday, and was met by a nice taxi driver in the taxi queue. Explained where I wanted to go and had the address. Blank look. Told him the neighborhood, cross streets and nearby highway. (Yes, I'm always prepared - seems those 2 Girl Scout meetings I went to really stuck). Blank look. Asked him if he even knew he was in Atlanta. Blank look. Then he asked me if I have GPS. Seriously?! Who the hell rolls around with a portable GPS unit? And if he thought he was going to get me to use up my international data to give him directions, he was seriously mistaken. With a grumble, he dug up some ancient navigation system that I'm pretty sure operated on Abacus 1.0, and plugged in the address. This thing was so old and so slow it took 5 minutes for directions to appear and also had me concerned that it might just drive us straight into a wall and/or Narnia. The whole time this is happening, I'm being treated to the most ineffectual A/C known to man complimented by a staggeringly robust bouquet of unwashed man, sweat, farts and old Indian food. We eventually made it to the hotel, but not before I had him roll down all the windows to let me hang my head out in the stifling heat like a dog just so that I could breathe.
- Later that day, I needed a taxi to dinner. I called down to the hotel (which I have to save for a separate post, because damn this place was busted) and asked for a taxi in 10 minutes. I have to say that despite looking like the place should be a regular feature on Law & Order: Shanknado, the staff was very nice and helpful. So I come downstairs and look outside. No taxi. A woman in the lobby asks me if I had called a taxi. I said yes, and she said Oh he is outside, he has been looking for you. I go outside again. No taxi. I look around. The only person outside is a very sketchy looking man standing outside a more sketchy-looking vehicle that once upon a time probably thought it was a Town Car of some sort. I get a sinking feeling, which was compounded when he ran over to me and said, "Taxi? You call taxi?". Ah, shit. So I went back inside and flagged down the front desk associate. The conversation went like this:
Me: Hi! I called for a taxi for room 519?
Him: Yes, miss. It's outside.
Me: Um, yeah, I don't see a taxi.
Him: He's right there (points to the man who is now almost hopping upside down in excitement)
Me: Yeah. That's just a random car with a clearly over-excited guy.
Him: No, that's ERIC. (Ed note: I put in all capitals because that is how he pronounced his name - for the rest of the time we spoke, the guy was ERIC with that kind of emphasis, like Madonna, Kanye or Elvis).
Me: Um, I don't know ERIC.
Him: ERIC is our driver! We have a private car service. ERIC.
Me: So here's the thing. I'm not opposed to a car service, but I have a concern about getting into a random, unmarked car with a guy who seems to only be known by one name. I've seen episodes of Without a Trace that started this way.
Also, that car doesn't look like any car service I've ever seen...
(The woman in the lobby is now cracking up and trying to hide it)
Him: Trust me, you're safe. ERIC does all our driving.
Me: Ok... but I just want to say for the record - and for the cameras - that this makes me uneasy. I'd really rather not exit the earth courtesy of ERIC.
Anyway, I ended up getting into the car after repeated assurances that I would not be murdered, maimed, dismembered or otherwise traumatized. I figured out that apparently ERIC must be a friend of someone in the hotel who makes money on the side doing driving. ERIC is a cash-only business. Also, ERIC doesn't know Atlanta from Timbuktu. Again we had a circular conversation about where I wanted to go. I was asked if I had directions. I sort of wanted to point out that if ERIC was hoping to establish himself in the transportation business, a working knowledge of the city in which he transports would be useful, but I didn't think it would do much good - as ERIC was clearly not from the US and seemed to be about as fluent in English as I am in German. Wait, scratch that. As I am in Chinese. For the record, I know 2 words in Chinese.
So out came the GPS again. At least ERIC had a more recent model and we were able to get to the restaurant without incident. As he was dropping me off, ERIC asked me if I needed a ride back. My answer? "No." (I did, but I figured I could sort that out later.) The best part about ERIC is that I was chatting the next day with the two agency colleagues who came for the research and they have been in Atlanta several times for other projects. As I was telling my story, one of them asked, "Was it ERIC?". For the rest of the time in Atlanta, I used Uber Black Car, which worked perfectly and involved no issues whatsoever.
- Yesterday, off I went to New York. I thought about ordering a car, but decided against it as JFK is a hot mess already without adding in the complexity of meeting points and transit police. I stood in the taxi queue and informed the attendant that I was heading into Manhattan, near Herald Square. For those of you who don't know Manhattan, Herald Square is a pretty notable landmark. It is also home to the world's largest department store - the Macy's that spans several blocks. I point this out to explain it's not like I was saying take me to the corner of Eleventy & Random. I waited for a car and not one of those minivan things that are everywhere, as riding in them tends to make me feel very ill. The attendant told the driver where I was going, luggage was put in the trunk and then....
Driver: Where you go, miss?
Me: (gives address, cross streets and big ass Macy's as reference)
Driver: Blank look.
Me: Manhattan? Herald Square?
Driver: Um....
Me: Do you know how to get to Manhattan?!
Driver: You please to wait, miss.
He then spends about 5 minutes on his phone putting in the address, then calling someone and discussing the matter in what I later found out was Punjabi, until he had gotten directions TO THE CENTER OF MANHATTAN from J.F. Freaking K. And so then we were off. And when I say we were off, what I mean is this guy could make an excellent getaway driver for a bank robbery. Add to that the fact that the car had exactly negative zero shock absorbers. Remember riding on the yellow school buses? And how when they would hit a bump, you would literally go airborne and so all the kids would fight to sit in the back where the bumps could be appreciated at maximum effect? My ride into the city was like that, minus the fun part. If I were a popcorn kernel, I would have been fully cooked less than 10 minutes into the ride. He even managed to make sitting in traffic in the tunnel a traumatic experience.
When we came out of the tunnel and got into the city, guess who had to direct him the rest of the way?! Now many of my friends know that I have somewhat dubious navigation skills. The weird thing is when I'm alone and traveling, I can always find my away around, often just by intuition. But when I'm with someone else, for some reason I always get everything completely ass backwards. To the point where I've had friends threaten to leave me where I stood if I didn't just shut up and listen to them. My point is that asking me for directions around Manhattan is about as good as using as using a Ouija board to predict lottery numbers. The only upside is that I had driven into the city recently when I came over Memorial Day and so I recognized our exit and where we were. I'm very visual, so if I've driven it and seen it, I can remember and navigate my way around. But the whole time I'm in the back of this cab like Sweet Baby Jesus how is this guy a cab driver who doesn't know midtown Manhattan?
My favourite entry yet!
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