The Nation's Captial, or How a Taxi Driver Nearly Killed Us All

Seriously. We took a taxi downtown yesterday, and you wouldn’t *believe* how intense this guy was. He was all cutting people off and then yelling at them out the window when they wouldn’t let him back into the lane he’d just cut them off from getting in to…he just about hit a pedestrian…there was no smooth, elegant ride downtown – he took it rather personally that a bunch of the roads were closed for a marathon.

In fact, he took that *very* personally. Every five minutes or so, he’d tell us that “all the roads are closed. All of them. Everything downtown is closed. Everything.” while driving on a road that was clearly not closed.

Add to the milieu the fact that he had this seashell (a la “Fahrenheit 451”) in his ear that he was chattering to the whole time. Do you know what he was chattering about? He was talking about how all the roads were closed and he couldn’t get anywhere because it was “bumpertobumper”.

It was all terribly silly, and we didn’t die, but we also didn’t get to take a bus tour because, you guessed it, all the streets were closed.

Normally, I am not Nervous in taxis. Last night, I was clutching the Jesus Christ handles and composing a letter to my children, to be written from a vegetative state. I was choosing short, easy words I could write with my mouth if need be.

cenobyte
cenobyte is a writer, editor, blogger, and super genius from Saskatchewan, Canada.

2 Comments

  1. In Italy, when they’re going to try to get somewhere by a certain time or something, they say “Traffic willing”.

i make squee noises when you tell me stuff.

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