I recently saw a humorous post on the website of The Taxi Centre looking at the most expensive (metaphorical) taxi fares that football clubs have had to pay for their outgoing managers! It got me thinking about my own time in cabs over the years
Imagine the scene a group of 18/19-year-old college girls on a night out at their favourite club in town. At the end of an epic night of dancing (and they were always epic nights), they ring for a taxi to take them home. They wait for what seems like forever for their ride home when they hear the angelic calls of… “Taxi for Louise”… the music to any drunken angel’s ears I can tell you.
We all clamber in the taxi and who should we notice is taking us home but our favourite taxi driver Sean! He was awesome, although I’m not sure he thought the same of the giggling gaggle of college girls who he always ended up with when they were drunk on a Friday or Saturday night.
But to Sean’s credit and probably the reason why we loved it when he took us home was that he was polite and laughed at our jokes and he even had a nickname for me… Zippy (how rude eh?) but the reason for my nickname was because I used to talk and talk and talk and talk… I could talk for England when I was drunk (still can if I’m honest) and I would always say hi to him then proceed with the same questions “Have you been busy?” and “What time you on till?” – if you’re a Peter Kay fan I’m almost certain he made his joke by sharing a taxi ride with us!! In case you have no idea what I’m talking about I have shared the video with you below. It still makes me giggle and the last time I watched Peter Kay with my friends they all had a good old laugh saying he was referring to me – it’s a good job I love my friends I can tell you!!
So we’ve established I’m a chatterbox when drunk and love to interrogate taxi drivers could you imagine being stuck with me on a long taxi ride? I think my friends were always thankful that they were dropped off first and that their part of the journey was only 10 minutes long – poor Sean had chatty little me for an extra 10 minutes all to himself. I bet he questioned whether or not a £10 taxi fare was really worth the chitter chatter he got from me each weekend. It could have been worse though, he could’ve been the taxi driver taking me to the airport or the one who got to take me to a concert – and when I’m nervous or excited I talk even more!!!
And at least we always had a nice, calm and responsible taxi driver I remember my dad telling me about a taxi driver who took him and my mum from the airport at Malta to their hotel who he said and I quote “drove like Ayrton Senna” now I don’t know about you but I don’t know if that would fill me with confidence or terrify the living daylights out of me!! But on the plus side, the taxi ride was the cheapest my dad (who is a tight git – it’s a well-known thing about us Yorkshire folk apparently but I beg to differ) has ever paid for so was happy with his speed demon of a driver!!!
Do you know anyone who’s more annoying than I am drunk? Have you had a scary taxi ride? or paid an extortionate amount for a taxi journey? I’d love to hear about it in the comments below.
**Disclaimer for drunken me – she doesn’t appear very often these days as the hangovers and children waking early do not mix and are so not worth the pain and sick feeling for a full day!!! However drunken me used to be one hell of a party animal back in the day and she loved it – she could get up, go to work, come home and go back out again and repeat it all again the following evening…
*This is a collaborative post*