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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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.

Style

I pulled up outside a betting shop, to pick up a customer. A good looking man appeared at my driver side window. I pressed the button, and my window whizzed down.
“Are you here for me?” he said hopefully.
“Possibly,” I smiled. “Where are you going to?”
He named an area of Norwich.
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “I’m booked to go to Dereham Road.”
The man looked disappointed.
“What a shame,” he said. “I saw your beautiful hair, and hoped you had come for me.”
With that, he took his car keys out of his pocket, unlocked the door, and drove away.

Nice tips

One night in October 2013, I was having a quiet night at work. So quiet, in fact, that I unwrapped the little packet of Love Hearts that were left in my car (along with a lollipop) by a customer who happened to be a recently released armed robber.

Nom nom nom. My kind of tip.

 

(Other tips that I have been gifted include a packet of truly delicious bacon; a CD of a local group, donated by said local group; a CD of a young female rapper, donated by herself; a Magnum (as in the ice cream, not the weapon), and a truly splendid Christmas jumper, donated by one of Gary Newman’s road crew!)

The Fog

14th March 2014 saw terrible weather conditions.  I  had a very full-on night at work, negotiating my taxi safely through the fog. Normally, most of my work would be within the suburbs of Norwich, however tonight, with horrendously poor visibility, I got not one, but THREE “county” jobs.


The first was taking Tyrion, a lovely young male ferret, and his delightful media student owner, to Downham Market, where he is to be debollocked in just a few hours time. The fog wasn’t too bad.


Next, I took a very drunk doorman, who had obviously had a cracking night off, to Lowestoft. By now it was horrible visibility, with some major road closures, owing to the evening’s tragic helicopter accident, which very sadly left four people dead. My doorman customer was, however, in good fooling, and entertained me all the way to his house.


Much of the time he was difficult to understand, owing to the combination of spectacular slurring, and a full twenty minutes of hiccuping. He was very concerned that I had to return to Norwich in the fog, bless him.


I made it safely back to Norwich, only to pick up a group of four offshore workers, who had been due to fly in to Norwich Airport, but had been diverted to Birmingham, due to the weather, and had endured a lengthy coach ride to Norwich. I collected them from the airport, to take them to Lowestoft and Beccles.


Again, our journey was hampered by the road closures, but a team effort got us to where they needed to go. The fog was, by now, almost impenetrable in places, and I was considering staying overnight in Lowestoft, for safety reasons.


The men were very sweet, and the last chap was concerned that I had to try to make it back to Norwich. He was so appreciative of my efforts to get them all home safely, after their looooong coach journey, that he actually tipped me nearly £60!!!
I am glad to be home, safe and sound. My thoughts are with those affected by the weather conditions, and in particular our emergency services, who will have to carry in regardless. And my heart goes out to those poor families who lost loved ones tonight.

Baiyo

One night, I was listening to one of my favourite CDs by Seckou Keita. For those of you who have not yet had the pleasure, Seckou Keita is an award-winning Senegalese virtuoso of the kora and djembe.  (And if you haven’t yet had the pleasure, look up his music online!)  I play these wonderful world music CDs for two specific types of passenger: the cultured, and the highly intoxicated / potentially volatile.

The former have generally enjoyed an evening of refined revelry, and the beauty of the music enchants their appreciative ears.  A rich and stimulating discussion typically ensues, or we just savour the magic in companionable silence.   As for the latter, well, the music is simply perfect for pacifying drunks.  Many a belligerent sot has been melodically soothed into a blissful stupor, allowing  the rising tension in the taxi to dissipate, and, at the conclusion of the journey, they simply pay and melt out of the car, all antagonism forgotten.

I digress.  I was listening to one of Seckou’s CDs named “Mali”, while discussing the delights of Indian food with an inebriated (but agreeable) passenger.  The passenger slurred, “I see you’re into Indian music, too”.  I was bemused until he pointed at the CD player screen, which listed the track “Baiyo”. He was so pissed, he thought it said “Bhaji”.

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.)