Photo for reference purposes only
So there I was waiting for a taxi to take me to the dentist. On my birthday – because the husband suddenly called he couldn’t drive me there. So much for asking a favor from someone who can’t get off from work for a few seconds.
The follow up dentist appointment would not be as hellish, I presume but nonetheless, it’s the dentist,the place hardly known to make you feel light and easy so you can have your birthday cake later.
A taxi came and I asked the driver if he knows the place I want to go to. I’m tired of taxi drivers who make their passengers their personal GPS system.The driver said yes, he knows the place so I hopped in. The moment I sat back he jacked up his MP3 player on his stereo system.
A taxi driver, in Dubai, instead of listening to Hindi songs on the radio, just plugged in an MP3 player. This should be exciting, I thought.
As he wiggled through traffic, he glanced at me several times – or maybe looked at the back mirror, I can’t really tell through the dark glasses he wore then he played the first song. It was a cheesy ballad called “Apologize”. He changed the volume from loud to annoyingly very loud the speakers were pounding at the back of my head. At first I didn’t react, well, at least it wasn’t Metallica or Alice in Chains. It was tolerable.
Until he started to wail the lyrics through and everything went downhill from there.
When we stopped at the traffic signal, he started putting on something to his hands, rubbed it and splashed it on his face. A cologne, no, an aftershave of sorts, a liquid with a smell so strong it can be used for embalming people. The music this time?
“You don’t bring me flowers” by Barbara Streisand.
WTF. I have a strong smelling peacock in the car, driving the vehicle wildly while playing a Barbara Streisand song. Something’s wrong with the world. I felt I was in a funeral.
And if it wasn’t my lucky day, it could be. He was driving like mad and the only way not to have a heart attack was to close my eyes and hold on to something. And pray. Yeah, pray that I’d see the next day. I thought my prayers should start at the dental clinic’s waiting area, not inside a taxi!
When we almost reached my destination, Beyonce was singing THE Birthday song. What? How in the hell the mad driver know it’s my birthday? From One Republic, Barbara Streisand, Michael Bolton and Rod Stewart (the one that goes husky and all…Have I Told You Lately – that creepy song!!), Beyonce took the (taxi) stage and the driver DANCED. I stopped a few meters from the dental clinic, grumbling, paid my due.
He was still singing while giving me my change. I almost wanna go Kanye on him and say, “Yo, driver! I’m really happy for you and I’mma let you finish but you’re the creepiest taxi driver of all time. OF ALL TIME.”