Cab driver or serial killer?
Sorry for not updating for a bit there. I spent yesterday in Cleveland. It was one of those get up at an ungodly hour and fly to Cleveland for a 4 hour meeting that I really didn’t need to be at, have an awful meal and then fly right back home exhausted and fuming because after sitting thru the 4 hours it was crystal clear that I REALLY didn’t need to go to, kind of meetings.
I did however get a lovely tour of Celveland courtesy of the cab driver from hell. Also know as the son of the BTK killer and his lovely wife the head of tourism for Cleveland.
It was a van, which means no safety glass partition. He looked like he hadn’t showered in weeks and had a bag on the floor with tools and YES duct tape in it. NOT KIDDING. I actually checked to make sure I could open the door again. He pointed out EVERY SINGLE building and, believe it or not, tree in that tourism way, “And if you look out the right side you’ll see the new section of the Cleveland Clinic. Blah, blah, blah, blah…..” while looking back at me in his rearview mirror every 10 seconds. Very creepy. He explained that he felt that it was his job to make everyone feel welcome in his town so he likes to “put on soft music and describe the city so people would know how wonderful Cleveland is and the people are.” Then he says,” and off to your right you’ll see the tall white building with the strange roof. That’s the Federal Courthouse and I spent the last two years..” to which I think, OH. MY. GOD. He’s been locked up for murder and dismembering the corpses! But instead he finishes with: “… on a Federal Grand Jury.” Ahh, yes, a jury of my peers. When we finally got to the airport I had to hold back from giving him some constructive criticism along the lines of, “You know what would make a lasting impression on your riders and make them want to come back to visit? Taking a shower and NOT treating this as a tour ride but I plain, old cab ride.” But I didn’t say it, I just thought it really hard. Same thing.
When I’m in a cab the only thing I want is for the driver to say, “Where to?” Nothing more, nothing less. A quick, “which route do you prefer?” is acceptable but I do not want to talk to you, I do not want to hear your life story and I certainly don’t give a rat’s ass if you used to own a restaurant that went bankrupt because your brother was skimming from the cash register. Is that too much to ask?
I did however get a lovely tour of Celveland courtesy of the cab driver from hell. Also know as the son of the BTK killer and his lovely wife the head of tourism for Cleveland.
It was a van, which means no safety glass partition. He looked like he hadn’t showered in weeks and had a bag on the floor with tools and YES duct tape in it. NOT KIDDING. I actually checked to make sure I could open the door again. He pointed out EVERY SINGLE building and, believe it or not, tree in that tourism way, “And if you look out the right side you’ll see the new section of the Cleveland Clinic. Blah, blah, blah, blah…..” while looking back at me in his rearview mirror every 10 seconds. Very creepy. He explained that he felt that it was his job to make everyone feel welcome in his town so he likes to “put on soft music and describe the city so people would know how wonderful Cleveland is and the people are.” Then he says,” and off to your right you’ll see the tall white building with the strange roof. That’s the Federal Courthouse and I spent the last two years..” to which I think, OH. MY. GOD. He’s been locked up for murder and dismembering the corpses! But instead he finishes with: “… on a Federal Grand Jury.” Ahh, yes, a jury of my peers. When we finally got to the airport I had to hold back from giving him some constructive criticism along the lines of, “You know what would make a lasting impression on your riders and make them want to come back to visit? Taking a shower and NOT treating this as a tour ride but I plain, old cab ride.” But I didn’t say it, I just thought it really hard. Same thing.
When I’m in a cab the only thing I want is for the driver to say, “Where to?” Nothing more, nothing less. A quick, “which route do you prefer?” is acceptable but I do not want to talk to you, I do not want to hear your life story and I certainly don’t give a rat’s ass if you used to own a restaurant that went bankrupt because your brother was skimming from the cash register. Is that too much to ask?
posted by E at
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
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