Monday, November 8, 2010

This taxi gets five near death experiences per mile.

It’s another one of those coast jumper trips, you know the drill – wait in line to be frisked by underpaid blue gloved TSA agents. I carry network equipment with me, lots of it. It’s the arteries of my occupation and a direct path to my financial well being. It’s sensitive in nature so in no way am I going to ship it, especially UPS (can’t trust those brown short wearing ship jockey’s). Where was I? Oh yeah, the airport. Due to my amazing luck and the equipment I tether TSA loves me. When my bag runs through the x-ray scanner it takes at least three agents to look at the screen and ponder. I think they get excited because it gives them something to do and the profile of my bag looks like cables attached to a bomb that looks suspiciously like a Cisco router; and lord knows they can’t let a Cisco router on board an airplane.

My taxi ride to the hotel had more turbulence then an elephant’s fart. I should have known what I was getting into when the taxi driver sped up to the curb and slammed on his breaks sliding about three feet past me. The door seemed stuck and I couldn’t get it open, then I heard the taxi driver say, “just kick it a few times!”. Sure enough, have damage will travel. When getting into the minivan disguised as a cab I noticed open hand prints on the inside of the windows – these looked like marks made from someone getting a panic attack. I knew then, I was in the right cab. The ride to the hotel was one of the most memorable cab rides I have had in years. This guy missed his calling; his driving characteristics were somewhere between a circus act, stunt driver and a crash test dummy. We were on the freeway when an ambulance flew by; he proceeded to follow the emergency vehicle like an attached rail car. It was more vehicular sodomy then tailgating. In and out of traffic he followed the sirens like a piece of cheese hung from a wire. After a while I am assuming the speeding ambulance was too slow so he passed it and moved on. He was changing multiple lanes and cutting people off but what was crazy to me was how calm his demeanor was. Casually moving the steering wheel while a violent fate was making chase. The pure horror locked the muscles in my face and I couldn’t stop smiling. One hand had a death grip on the seat while the other..oh yes, I too was giving the window a panicked high five. The ride came to a halt like air brakes on an old rollercoaster. My head nearly hit the seat in front of me. I told him his driving was awesome and tipped nicely. He smiled and yelled, “top gun!” while giving me the thumbs up. I wanted to come back with a witty response like “mustard!” but my body was still going through shock from the previous 27 near-death experiences.

This trip has definitely started on the right path.

Until Next Time

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