The perfect taxi driver should have only two words for his passenger: "saan kayo?". His ID and the contact numbers of his cab company are prominently displayed. the cab is clean, with jazz music playing softly in the background. All the door handles work, the front seats can be adjusted and reclined.
In the real world, however, we make do with the Pinoy cab driver. No ID. The markings on his cab are from a few owners ago (too expensive to update current owner's name, contact number, hence the usual, "ay, hindi na po sa las pinas ang garahe nito. sa qc na. yung dating may-ari kasi taga las pinas"). Seat cover is in dire need of washing. can't open the door from the inside (broken door handle). Chooses his passenger (the signs of rejection: slight kamot to the head, and the dreaded words "traffic dun eh" or "pa-garahe na ako, ma'am"). And of course, love radio ("kailangan pa bang i-memorize yan?").
On top of all of that, the Pinoy cab driver never shuts up.
There are those who talk about politics. For the past years, i've listened to pro-Erap, pro-GMA, pro-Ramos and yes, even those who look back fondly at the Marcos days.
There are of course, the obligatory religious nuts, who try to make you see his god's light in the 30 minute cab ride. I've had a driver continually extend his hand to the back seat (where i was) and ask me to say "Amen" to whatever it was he was saying. I've been asked to repent so many times, it's a wonder i'm not seeing a shrink. or a priest.
Then there are the nosy ones, who ask about your personal life, and your job. So far, i've been single (bad, because you're subjected to a pass from the gigolo driver), in a relationship (bad, because of the obligatory follow up questions, like what does he do, does he treat you well), married (see above), separated (prepare for an onslaught of his own sob stories). I have also been an accountant, a call center operator, a teacher, a programmer and a UP student (which, i was, a few years back).
I'm actually scared of the silent ones because they are either sleeping (while weaving through edsa), or about to have an epileptic attack (true story, my mom and i had to get off about 400 meters away from our actual destination because she got scared of the involuntary er "twitching" that the driver was experiencing).
In the real world, however, we make do with the Pinoy cab driver. No ID. The markings on his cab are from a few owners ago (too expensive to update current owner's name, contact number, hence the usual, "ay, hindi na po sa las pinas ang garahe nito. sa qc na. yung dating may-ari kasi taga las pinas"). Seat cover is in dire need of washing. can't open the door from the inside (broken door handle). Chooses his passenger (the signs of rejection: slight kamot to the head, and the dreaded words "traffic dun eh" or "pa-garahe na ako, ma'am"). And of course, love radio ("kailangan pa bang i-memorize yan?").
On top of all of that, the Pinoy cab driver never shuts up.
There are those who talk about politics. For the past years, i've listened to pro-Erap, pro-GMA, pro-Ramos and yes, even those who look back fondly at the Marcos days.
There are of course, the obligatory religious nuts, who try to make you see his god's light in the 30 minute cab ride. I've had a driver continually extend his hand to the back seat (where i was) and ask me to say "Amen" to whatever it was he was saying. I've been asked to repent so many times, it's a wonder i'm not seeing a shrink. or a priest.
Then there are the nosy ones, who ask about your personal life, and your job. So far, i've been single (bad, because you're subjected to a pass from the gigolo driver), in a relationship (bad, because of the obligatory follow up questions, like what does he do, does he treat you well), married (see above), separated (prepare for an onslaught of his own sob stories). I have also been an accountant, a call center operator, a teacher, a programmer and a UP student (which, i was, a few years back).
I'm actually scared of the silent ones because they are either sleeping (while weaving through edsa), or about to have an epileptic attack (true story, my mom and i had to get off about 400 meters away from our actual destination because she got scared of the involuntary er "twitching" that the driver was experiencing).
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