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December 8, 2013

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drunks, Men

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The Origin of the Sensual Taxi

Three men got in my taxi. They were delighted to have a female taxi driver, and were exceedingly complimentary. Apparently, my cab smelled lovely, I, too, was both lovely and friendly, and they liked my driving style. According to one, I was “really hot” and had a very sexy voice.

“You’ve clearly been drinking tonight,” I observed.

Actually, no, he was the only one who hadn’t. And then followed one of the most bizarre comments that I have heard in my cab to date:

“Wow, this is such a sensual* taxi!”

???!!

As a result of the amusement generated by this remark, I have succumbed to popular opinion, and the Sensual Taxi blog has begun. Please enjoy 🙂

(* In actual fact, the customer used the word “sexual” rather than “sensual”, to describe my taxi.

HOWEVER, I have no intention of having the blog title, “Tales from a Sexual Taxi.” Yes, that title might garner considerably more hits for my blog, but not necessarily the kind of traffic (no pun intended) that I would welcome. In the interests of perv-dodging, which is an essential part of the skill set for us female cabbies, the Sensual Taxi prevails.)

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December 27, 2014

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students

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Deer students

On a night when I was feeling rough, full of the symptoms of the onset of a horrible cold, I got a job to pick up some students, to take them to the LCR. I wasn’t exactly feeling party-tastic, but I decided to make the effort and put on Chase and Status to help keep them feeling lively on their way to their Student Union.

The four girls were (predictably) garbed in fancy dress costumes, and kept me waiting nearly 10 minutes, which, when you’re a taxi driver, is exasperating at the best of times. Finally, we set off.

As I approached a side road, I spotted a mother Muntjac deer with her young, hesitating in the road. I stopped to make sure they didn’t panic and run into the road, and the girls in my car squealed in astonishment.

“Look, a deer!” one exclaimed.
“I’ve never seen one before!” said another.
“Are you sure it’s not a fox?” asked the third girl.

Stoic at the best of times in the face of unbelievable student f***wittery, as an Honours Zoology graduate I was simply unable to contain my feelings.

“Oh, dear GOD!” I exclaimed, and smote my forehead with my palm, in despair.

They didn’t notice, all too busy caught up in their own little drama of having annoyed their poor neighbours with their noisy pre-drinks.

We got to UEA. The fare was more than they had anticipated, with the charge for waiting time. Hah. The girl in the front paid the £6.50 fare with a ten pound note, and then insisted that the three girls in the back gave her £2 each.

“But that comes to £8,” protested one of the others, working out the total sum if each passenger contributed the same amount.

“No,” said the girl in the front, who was evidently far from popular with the other girls. “Because two times three is 6.”

Despair reigned.

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December 23, 2014

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Christmas Evil

Recent customers were a young couple, who were talking about suitable Christmas films for their four year old boy.

“The Snowman” was my suggestion.

“Ooh, no!” said the man. “No way. It scared me when I was little.”

“It scared you?!” I exclaimed, incredulously.

“Yes,” he replied. “That bit when they are flying through the air, and that creepy song is playing.”

“What, that creepy song sung by the young choir boy, Aled Jones?” I enquired.

“That’s the one,” said the man. “And don’t be fooled by his age. Evil comes in all shapes and sizes. Whoever sang that was the spawn of Satan.”

There you have it. What I thought was a beautiful story full of Christmas magic actually features a song by the son of Satan. Who knew?!

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December 22, 2014

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Gallantry

I just picked up an elderly couple who had enjoyed a few sherries at a friend’s house. We talked about Christmas, and also the holidays abroad that they had enjoyed through the year.

As we arrived at their home, the man bade me a “Merry Christmas” and got out of the car, while the lady paid. He appeared at her car door, and gallantly opened it for her.

“Oooh,” she exclaimed. “He never does that! He must be after something.”

The old man grimaced. “Well if I am, it’s not what you think. I’ve got a headache!”

He winked at me, she beamed, and they walked off together happily, leaving me smiling in my car.

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November 28, 2014

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Essex

I picked up three students: two female friends returning home together from a night out, and one of those random drunk lads that hangs around kebab shops after the clubs shut, to try and cadge a free lift home with fellow students.

He was trying hard to impress the girls. The girls were obviously underwhelmed by him and his transparent antics. After a few failed attempts, he gave up trying to persuade the girls to let him accompany them to their flat, and asked to be dropped off en route.

During the journey, the cabcrasher and one of the girls discovered that they were both from Essex. She was from Braintree. He announced that he was from Colchester.

The other girl remarked, “I got a train that went through Colchester once. So many freaks got off in Colchester, it was unreal.”

As I smiled to myself, they began to debate which place was the biggest sh*thole: Braintree or Colchester.

The girl from Braintree declared emphatically, “Colchester is the biggest sh*thole. By far. Everybody in Colchester has been stabbed. Everybody.”

The lad in the back protested, “I’m from Colchester, and I’ve never been stabbed.”

Undeterred, Miss Braintree continued: “Yes, you HAVE been stabbed. You’re just too stupid to have noticed.”

A short while later, Mr Colchester got out of the taxi, without offering to contribute anything towards the fare. The girls were surprised and indignant. I was not.

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November 7, 2014

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Definite

I picked up four students tonight, three from England, and a third year exchange student from America. Perfect customers, they were friendly, interesting and chatty. Our conversation flowed, and it was lovely, engaging journey. They were all complimentary, each thanking me as they left. The American girl was last.

“You,” she declared, “are the @&£!ing sh*t. You’re in the Top 10 taxi drivers of all time.”

I was grateful for the inclusion of the definite article in her first statement.

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September 9, 2014

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Sad things, Work

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Kerb crawling

I needed to pull over in my taxi, so I indicated left, and began to slow down. I noticed two angry street prostitutes having a territorial dispute at my chosen stopping point, so I cancelled my intended manoeuvre and drove around the corner instead. I pulled over and switched off the ignition.

Utterly absorbed in my phone, I suddenly became aware of someone walking away from my car. It was the taller prostitute, who had mistaken my aborted manoeuvre for an attempt at kerb-crawling. As she drew level with my window, she noticed that I was female, and simply turned on her heel, to return to ply her trade on the road.

I do feel sad for these girls. They were tiny babies once, full of life, innocence and potential. Being a street prostitute is not a job that anyone grows up wanting to do.

At some point in their lives, something happened to these girls, and a subsequent chain of events led them to try to sell themselves to passing strangers. As one of my own customers once remarked, “Someone put them there.”

It’s a very dangerous situation to be in, and I really do feel for those women whose lives have been so corrupted that they take to the streets.

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July 25, 2014

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As if…

I picked up four lads who were on a stag do in rural Norfolk. They were staying on a boat on the Broads, but wanted to go into Norwich for the last few hours of drinking. Rather than going the long way round via the main roads, I chose instead to take the back roads to our fine city.

As we travelled through the winding lanes in the pitch black countryside, one of the lads looked up, and surveyed the landscape with confusion.

“Where the @&£% are we?” he exclaimed. “I have no @&£%ing idea where we are.”

Before I could answer, he eyed me with suspicion. “You’re not taking us dogging, are you?”

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July 16, 2014

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Errrr?

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Glastonbury

I picked up two customers, one of whom seemed somewhat “chemically preoccupied”.
We were talking about music festivals, as I had just returned from Drum Camp (www.drumcamp.co.uk) in Suffolk.
My rather befuddled customer was quite into his festivals, and had been to Glastonbury last year.
“It was really good,” he said. “When it finished, I stayed on and picked up litter, just to help them out, and they gave me two tickets for this year.”
“Nice,” I remarked.
“Yes, he said. “I’m really looking forward to it.”
My other customer and I paused to reflect upon his words.
“Erm…” I began reluctantly, not wanting to burst his little happy bubble of anticipation.
My other customer was more forthright. “Mate,” he declared emphatically, “I hate to break it to you, but you’ve missed it!”

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July 3, 2014

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Leery

I picked up a very drunk older man, who was Very Pleased Indeed that he had a female driver. He made a number of (almost) complimentary remarks about me, and made it very apparent exactly how attractive he found me. He looked like he could be the lovechild of Benny Hill and Les Dawson, and had an expressively mobile face. He asked my name. I told him, and enquired as to his own name.

“Sexy Bobby!” he leered.

I don’t think that my shout of laughter was quite the response that he expected. Bless.