I’m experiencing the most harrowing taxi ride of my life. My driver has already cut off half a dozen cars on his way out of the airport; now he’s driving down the shoulder of the highway to get around the traffic jam.
“Hey, I’m not really in a hurry,” I say, trying to drop a hint. My driver doesn’t take it. He swings wildly from the shoulder back onto the road and then the passing lane, narrowly missing the back of a pick-up truck.
“Hey. Listen. Please.” I knock on the plastic divider between the our seats. “Could you slow down? This is making me nervous.”
The driver doesn’t even acknowledge me. “Asshole!” he growls at a minivan blocking our way. Then, leaning on the horn, he cuts back ...