This blog is also an expression
of my disappointment. Reading this second post, you may find the content contradicting
to my first post already. But, whatever. Yesterday I had one of the most annoying
experiences with a taxi driver and I was reminded that they are not always heroes.
More often than not, I tend to
hate taxi drivers that talk too much. Some of my friends, however, have the
opposite opinion. They’d say that being with a friendly driver who loves to talk would make
them feel safer, especially if it’s night time. It means that there's a big chance that their
life’s in the right hand. Yeah right.
Well, hear me out. Not all
taxi drivers who love to chat so much are good people. I have had a lot of
upsetting encounters with these folks that has finally confirmed my conclusion
that a quiet and dutiful taxi driver is the best type of its kind.
One encounter that I still
clearly remember is this taxi driver that drove me from Gedung Kesenian Jakarta
to my office in Kemang. Right after I sat down and closed the passenger door,
he started a conversation. It was a fun conversation at first. He threw lots of
jokes and I laughed a lot. Who would’ve thought that he took that as a sign
that I was ‘easy’?? He started to look at the back seat, at me, a lot with a
judging look and a smile that gave me goosebumps. I was hoping that I didn’t somehow
trapped with a psycho like in ‘The Bone Collector’ movie. Well, he started to
sit in a slouchy manner with his seat pulled back, drove recklessly (he took
the lane meant for vehicles from the opposite direction), and he was not funny
anymore when tried to find out from me about bars in Kemang. It was night time
and it turned out that he thought that I was one of ‘those girls’ who went to
Kemang to hang out in one of its ‘crazy’ bars. He asked annoying questions such
as, “I heard that the girls at the bars in Kemang are wild…” and he looked at
me with a creepy smile when he said that. I felt like I want to slap his face with
my bag.
I was so upset. First, I was
heading to my office. Secondly, I didn’t dress up like those bars’ tacky ‘ayams’.
Thirdly, I deserve respect from those whose salary is paid because I took their
taxi. I was a customer they should look after. If I could laugh, they should
take that as a bonus. The fact that a passenger could laugh isn’t supposed to
be something that could make any taxi driver think that the passenger was an
easy bar chick.
Of course, I started to give
cold responses. I told him that I was going back to my office, which is a
magazine, where I work as a JOURNALIST. I ignored him after that, to let the
word sink in. It still got me really emotional each time I think about it.
From other encounters, I’ve
also learned that a taxi driver could be chatty to hide the fact that he’s
sleepy. Once I asked a driver whose driving ability was totally questionable
that night. He hit the brakes a lot although the street was quiet. But he just couldn’t
admit that he’s sleepy. Really upset, I asked him to stop the taxi and drop me
off. He insisted that he was alright. I arrived safely at home but it wasn’t an
enjoyable journey if you ask me.
I guess most taxi passengers
who just worked for 14 hours with a headache and a back pain from sitting too
long in front of a computer would agree with me. We’d be really grateful if we
could just have a taxi driver who could refrain from talking, knows the street so
well so that we could just trust him and sleep in the passenger seat.
