First, it was in a cab driven by an elderly man with snow white hair.
As we neared our destination, I tried to give him directions. 'Turn right ahead,' I said. He made a small noise, but I couldn't make out what it is. No matter as long as he turned right.
A minute later - 'It's the next block, in front of the stairs.'
This time, the response was swift and louder. 'I know, I know!' he grumbled. Hm, looks like I've been in his cab before, this white-haired old man with the squeaky voice.
A few days later -
it was a younger bespectacled man this time. Don't think I've been in his cab before, but - 'Have you been driven by a lady cab driver before?' is the first thing he asks.
'Erm ...'
'The lady driver behind us, she told me that she has driven you twice before.'
'Erm ... lady driver ... I guess so, once?' It's not hard to remember a night time lady driver, they are a rare breed.
'It's that cab behind us,' he rattles off the plate number. 'She told me.'
It takes years of taxi-taking from the same place and time before the drivers start discussing you and know exactly where you live. Time for a change?
