Taxi Driver II

         (Originally posted on Oct 29, 2007 - 21:39)

         Taxi drivers seem to be a class on its own, no matter what country you go. I know we can't blame them much for what they are because traffic is a very stressing environment to work in, but still... They are making a living out of it and we clients are providing their income. 

         And in the rank of bad taxi drivers of the world I think Romania takes the biscuit.
But again we're not going to talk about this. Maybe another time, but not today. 

         Today I have three more amusing taxi driver stories to tell.
         The first one is probably one of the most amusing taxi drivers episode I've ever been part of. 

         One night I was at a friend's place and I was about to leave at past midnight. She called me a cab and when I went downstairs the car was waiting.
         I got on the car and told him my destination and off we went.
         I noticed that he was constantly flicking his eyes between me and the road and I though "oh no... I know what's coming... He will ask me if I am Chinese". It always happens. And I have an instinctive automatic allergic reaction to this but as the driver was huge, skinhead, big moustache, though guy type I thought I'd better not react at all. 

         He stared at me again and I knew the question was coming... I took a deep breath and held it to keep myself from reacting... Then he shoots point blank: "Esti Mexican?" 
         I almost choked on my own breath!
         Between laughs I asked if he was kidding me and he just say innocently: "Pai... Arati ca un Mexican"
         After recovering from the laughs I tell him that no, I am not Mexican. I'm Japanese.
         Then he tells me that he is an ex-judo champion and he started asking me many questions about Japan. 

         When we're getting close to my place he asks me if I would like to have some coffee and he's quick to add that its on him. So we stop at the magazin alimentar close to my place and he orders two coffees and says "let's drink it Romanian style" and he sits the two cups of coffee on the bonnet of his car and we drink and talk more about Japan.

         After the coffee he says he will take me home and again is quick to add that the remaining of the ride will be for free. We get on the car and he turns on the taxi meter and adds quickly "Don't worry! I won't charge you. I just have to turn it on because if one of my colleagues see me with a client and the taxi meter off it may be trouble, but don't worry, you're not going to pay for the ride." 

         When we stopped in front of my bloc he said: "Fii atent!"
         He reached into the glove compartment and took out some sort of device. It was a dismantled piezo-electric cigarette lighter. He put the wires in contact with the taxi meter panel and clicked it. The taxi meter crashed like a Windows computer and when it restarted the meter was zeroed!

         He looked at me, winked and said: "Iti dai seamna cat bani fac in fiecare noaptea asa?"
         I couldn't believe!
         I mean... Come on! How many people (besides a Romanian) would ever try something like this to find out if it works?? 

         Revised Romanian version of an old saying: "The necessity to cheat is the mother of invention."

         The next is one of  the craziest specimens I've ever met in this planet.          A friend of mine from Brasov had sent me a book by post and for some mysterious reason I was supposed to pick it at a post office near Gara Basarabia. 
         Come on, I live at Stefan Cel Mare. There are two post offices nearby. Why do I have to go to the other side of the city to pick a book? 

         Anyway, I took a cab at Barbu Vacarescu.
         The driver was a big, fat guy with big glasses and a big moustache and a deep basso laugh like John Rhys-Davies.

         We're riding and every time he sees girls he goes: "Uite, uite! Fete!!"          When we were around Gara de Nord he sees a blonde walking on the sidewalk and "Uite! Fete!" I look and notice that the lady was mid 40s and I ask him if he doesn't think she's kinda old and he replies "inca merge, inca merge" and laughs like Rhys-Davies. 

          He also drives like crazy at high speed. No heavy traffic is an obstacle to him. He doesn't mind zig-zagging between lanes and invading tramvai lines like a courier biker. And whenever he's about to do it he says: "Inchide ochi! Inchide ochi!" then after the life-threatening maneuver is over he says: "gata, poti sa deschide acum".

         And so it was the whole ride.
         Girl-spotting and extreme driving.
         Well... At least the guy was joyful and funny.

         The last story happened last week.
         I was taking my guitar to a repairman. I carry it in a black hard shell case, rectangular, not the guitar shaped type. It's very heavy so I decided to take a cab. When the driver saw me opening the back door to put my guitar on the back seat, he shoots a look at my face (you could read the panic in his eye: "Chinese!!") then he looks at the black case and his eyes go wild with terror: "Chinese MAFIA!!"

         He asks me what's in the case.
         I swear I could see the image of an AK-47 Kalashnikov assault rifle form in his retina.
         So to put his overdriven heart at rest I opened the case and showed him the guitar. He breathed a long sigh of relief like a punctured bagpipe. 

         It was brown trousers time for him.
         Can you imagine what could have happened if the guy had a weaker heart?
         My guitar playing sucks but I never thought my guitar could kill without me playing it. 

Taxi Driver

         (Originally posted  on Apr 14, 2007 - 07:50)

 

         I've had many problems with taxi drivers in this country, but we're not going to talk about this. Maybe another time, but not today.
Today I'm going to tell you a few amusing stories that happened to me while riding taxis. 

         The first one happened to me a few years ago. I lived in Ploiesti and worked in Bucharest. I used to do some hard naveting with the maxi-taxi everyday and I would arrive back in Plo around 22:30 ~ 23:00 in the evening at Gara de Sud. Going home from Gara de Sud by bus would take me another 30 or 40 minutes because I would have to take one to downtown and a second one from downtown to home, so I used to ride taxis. One night when I arrived at Gara de Sud there was only one taxi parked in front of the station. One battered, rusty, way past retirement, disgustingly green Mercedes. The driver, an old, fat, dark skin gypsy. Well, it was late and it was the only cab in the parking lot, so I guess I didn't have much choice. He had the radio on and soon after we left the station it started playing Stand By Me. I started mumbling the song. The driver noticed and turned the volume up. And in the refrain he joined in and we both rode all the way home singing.
Totally surreal. 

         The second story happened a few weeks ago. I was going downtown to meet some friends at the karaoke bar. I took a cab here at Stefan Cel Mare. The driver was a young, early 30s guy. As soon as we left I noticed the strange music playing in the car. Surprise, surprise: Japanese music. J-Pop. Japanese silly pop music, sung by silly Japanese teenage girls. I was curious. I asked him if he really usually listen to Japanese music. He asked me how did I know it is Japanese. Well, I didn't say "duuh!" because I know that most people in this country believe that any Asian must be Chinese. So I told him that I am Japanese. And he told me that he's been to Japan for 3 months a few years ago. 

         The last one happened a couple of days ago. A friend of mine invited me to her place. I took a cab here on Stefan Cel Mare. The driver was a gypsy, mid 30s. He was listening to manele when I boarded the car but he switched it off and turned on the radio. Then on the radio it started playing George Michael - Careless Whisper. And the driver started singing along. 

         It's a pity that most taxi drivers are not like these. On the contrary, these are very rare cases. Maybe one day I will tell you the other side of riding taxis in Romania. The horror stories. But not today. Today I'm feeling good.