Taxi

I've always particularly admired the taxi-driver who turned to Bertrand Russell in the back of his cab and asked the perfectly legitimate question, »Well Guv, what's it all abaht then...?« And answer came there none. Never ask a philosopher, especially one who hasn't paid his fare yet.....

since it is now april 16 and i live in the US. i have filed my taxes with the IRS. i do not have to think about taxes anymore for awhile, and instead can think of more interesting things, such as travel. travel to most cities in the world involves at least occasional taxi rides. in some places this is a pleasure; the taxi driver speaks at least a little of some language that you also speak at least a little of, and she or (usually) he is happy to talk to you and point out interesting sites/sights. if you are even a little lucky this person will take you to your destination safely, and by a more or less direct route.

then there are the others.

One fine autumn day in the spring, I was eating an apple in a taxi (and getting sick) when the crazy taxi driver pulled out a bottle of hot sauce and started drinking it. This was in L.A.
It probably would not happen in London or Berlin.

Riding a taxi cab is far too expensive. Riding the bus is cheaper, but you are not allowed to talk to the driver.

Dani Davito, Taxi bars (English chocolate) being moved while being talked at. Yellow in New York, Black in London. »The Knowledge«. Tight turning circles. Stupid but knowledgable drivers – like philosophers educated far beyond their capacity for analytical thought (quote from Richard Dawkins in the endnotes of »The Selfish Gene«).

In Morocco, Taxis are either Grand or Petit, depending on whether you need to travel a great or small distance. In Grands Taxis, you share the backseat of a battered Diesel Mercedes with four or five people who are going in the same general direction.