People stop thinking and the ship starts sinking…

It is no secret everyone one of us has a background, a past which haunts us. Usually only our closest friends and relatives have knowledge of these events. However the Taxi driver shares with all his passengers his stories and somehow all of those drivers are extremely wealthy and are doing this job just for the fun of it.

When I was a Lebanese teenager the only mean of transportation available was the taxi, and I have heard my fair share of stories; from a taxi driver who has a billionaire brother in the U.S. who offered him a job which he refused because of his love to the Lebanese roads.  Or that other guy who told me he was the owner of the Skybar and gave me his number just in case I have trouble getting in sometimes.

But these are all fairy tales invented by hopeless men living in their own world. However there are these drivers who give you a mean dose of reality and expose their true nature. Two stories come to my mind instantly when I speak of this subject:

The first story takes place on the seaside road around midnight when me and my cousin were coming home.  He was feeling sleepy and decided to take a little nap. However the driver wanted to use an electric taser to wake him up, it was a “shock” to the both of us.

The second story is about a taxi driver who came to pick me up in his Jaguar, and the entire road he was complaining about his east European “girlfriend” who keeps on sending him love messages, and talking about his fear from his wife if she finds out he is cheating on her. We “bonded” so much he showed me some of the messages he received, wanted to give me the number of a friend of his girlfriend and even bragged about how great he was in bed. And trust me; the virtual image of an old, fat drunk having sex is torturous if you hoped to get some sleep that night regardless how beautiful you picture his girlfriend.

Aside from the stories taxi drivers have other trademarks; the long nail of their pinky finger is a useful way to clean the ear, their cars are always infected with hideous smells and not to forget “sultan el tarab” Gerorges wassouf who is always playing in the car. And finally, the best trademark in my opinion is the spit out of their left side window.  If a Lebanese taxi driver goes to work in London, I think he’ll have some trouble if he doesn’t adjust this last habit and learn to spit from the right side.


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