Dear Mr. Taxi Man,

I will start off by admitting that I don’t like waking up at 4:45am in order to get a cab to the airport so that I can arrive in Raleigh, NC by 8am, especially after staying up to watch the Patriots not lose again.; in fact I don’t like anything mentioned in that statement. But today I had to do it, and you were responsible for my journey to the airport.

It is 5:36am, I have booked you for 5:40am – why do you feel the need to be sounding your horn; most sane people are sleeping, you jackass. So I throw my case into the trunk, and open the door. I’m really not sure that it is my responsibility to be cleaning your back seat of the beer bottle caps that are strewn across it, but I did, because you obviously didn’t. And when I ask you to take me to the airport, I’m confused as to why I had to pay you by credit card before we had even left my street. The excuse of “it’s just easier” is just plain dumb.

I had brought a book along with me, but I guess reading the graffiti strewn all across the back of the car was meant to offer me a degree of entertainment as we drove. It didn’t. And some of those drawings were anatomically bizarre. I’ve also really wanted to discover what it would be like to travel at the speed of sound, and hear the sonic boom, only I didn’t expect to be doing it in your cab, the same cab that was being held together by pieces of duct tape.

I would like to ask you never to pick me up again, and I would go so far as to advise you to consider a new career path completely. One in which good hygiene is not essential, and preferably one where you never have to deal with living people. Maybe a grave-digger? Just, maybe go easy on the graffiti.


~ by eddie on December 4, 2007.

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