Life in the Taxi Lane

Taxi’s are a fickle subject for me. A necessary evil, if you will. My day starts, and ends, with a trip in a taxi. And much like everything else in Jordan, it tends to be a mixed bag.

I’ve had my fare share of interesting cab rides. But of course those only occur if you can actually CATCH a taxi. Today, for instance, I had a meeting with my teacher at 8:10 so I walked on down Hell Hill and across Death Traffic at 7:20 to the other side of the street to catch one. I waited. And waited. And waited. Eventually my hand got tired of the semi-Nazi salute so I just impatiently tapped my foot until I saw one approaching.

It had a person in it. So did all the other ones I saw. It took me 20 minutes to flag one down. That taxi ride was only somewhat eventful. The driver pulled off the side of the road to fill up with gas--only a little jarring.

Other notable rides:

-Obama Lover. There was the ‘I LOVE OBAMA HE IS BLACK’ taxi driver who had a strobe light and pulled over to get coffee whilst I was in his car. “GEORGE BUSH BAD” he bellowed.

-“We’re French” man. After striking up an unusually friendly conversation that we half understood (mainly through gestures and single words), he asked where we were from. McCahey responded “France.” The driver was very excited and exclaimed “Zidane! Zidane!” The only one in the car with a clue, I was like “Ahhh, football” (Hey, least I didn’t say soccer). The driver than proceeded to pull up to a random car and yell out the window “France!!” while gesturing wildly to us in the back.

-The many “AL ADAD” drivers. One thing that royally ticks me off is how many of the drivers think I’m stupid. I know what the fare to get me from A to B is, and I know your meter always works. So STOP TAKING ADVANTAGE OF ME. The meters start at .25 piasters and increase by .1 for every 10^th of a mile. If the guy refuses to clear the meter or says “it’s broken” it’s time for action. I usually forcefully say “Al Adad” (meter) and if he says it’s broken, I get out. It’s happened only a handful of times, but still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

And finally. The “music lovers.” I’m just gonna come out and say I love the music here. It’s delicious. and I’m sure a later blog will address “Fancy Nancy.” Many of the taxi drivers listen to the news, and I can only pick up a bit of what they say (Although today, I deciphered an ad for an online university!). However, my favorite drivers are the ones who blast music. My absolute favorite was the one the other day who had the most bizarre playlist. It started with a wicked European techno dance track before segueing into the Jonas Brothers. I could help but smile and sing the chorus under my breath.