Riding in Cabs

The taxi is an integral part of Buenos Aires culture. Because nobody wants to spend the extra money, people usually opt for the "often-good" public transportation system of buses. So the taxis are both equally reviled by the fiscally conscious Argentines (sadly accustomed to having to do more with less by generations of governmental and big business chicanery), and esteemed because they are just so much more comfortable and easy. And a cab becomes invaluable when there is a city-wide problem, or when one is in trouble.

Tonight, for example, there was a problem. Heavy rains followed by flash floods left everyone on street corners huddled under umbrellas, and all the taxi services were suddenly slammed. I got a ride tonight with some luck, but then it ran out when the driver decided to stop and not take me any further. I had to walk 30 blocks or so home in the rain. Surprisingly I didn't mind really, it was a nice walk.

The cabs here mostly run on methanol, so they are quite easy on the city air, which is a good thing because nothing else is really. But the cabs vary greatly in quality and if you stop one you are just as likely to get a pleasant fellow with nice music and the AC blasting as you are to get a smelly curmudgeon chain-smoking through his tracheal stent, in his sauna-like hooptie.

The thing I like to do lately is ask the taxistas for their best stories. And they have the most amazing stories. So far I've had Taxi drivers sing tango songs, talk to me about lost loves, and complain about transvestite elitists from Spain. As you might suspect, all manner of sexual perversions and bizarreness happen in cabs, from the profoundly sad (a girl in her early teens climbing a cab and telling the driver he can do whatever he wants with her, if only he'll buy her a sandwich), to the humorous (a cabbie gets propositioned by a visiting Brazilian bombshell, and upon leaving her he withdrew his wallet to pay for her services and instead she paid him for the cost of the room plus $300 pesos).

I asked about crime and using judgment to decide who one should and should not pick up. One cabbie simply said "if I judged everyone one the street by their looks before I picked them up I'd starve to death." Another driver, wiry and dark, told a related story about how the eyes deceive. Three months earlier a well-dressed man with a briefcase got in and asked to go across town. When they got to the destination the man removed a gun from his attaché and took everything the driver had, down to his cell phone, Ferrari key fob, and car stereo. But then most bizarrely, the thief held him captive in the car for four hours (!) before finally letting him go.

But of course appearances work the other way too. One driver told me about the elderly gent he stopped for. Immediately he regretted it because the old man seemed the type to take a cab two blocks to a restaurant, complaining the whole way. Instead, he asked to be taken across town. As they rode the old man asked if he owned the cab they were in. The driver said he did not, and then when he began driving he chose instead to invest his money in a house, and then used the money he made to support his three children and wife. He said there wasn't enough left over to save for a cab, and he could not obtain a loan without putting his house at risk, which of course was unacceptable. The old man listened attently to all this and asked for his card. One week later the cabbie got a call from the old man, and took him on a much longer trip. Then two more big trips again the next week. On the fourth meeting, the gentleman said "I expect you are the kind of man who repays his debts. Would you permit me to loan you money to buy a car?" The cabbie was beside himself, and he accepted. "This happened 45 days ago" he told me, "and this car is mine."

Amidst all this recounting of tales and histories, perhaps it's best to keep in mind what one cab driver said about taxistas in Buenos Aires. "You want a cabby’s story," he said. "Sure you can ask, but believe at your own risk. Buenos Aires hacks are the worst kind of liars!"

posted by goat hill dreamer @ 10:57 PM