A Taxi Ride

The other day I grabbed a taxi, and as I got into the back seat I commented to the driver, “ So, you think the rain is going to hold off again?” The question seemed to irritate him, and in a blunt, forceful Russian accent, he retorted, “If it rains it rains!” His tone suggested that it was the stupidest question he had ever heard in all his years of driving.

I nodded my head, “ So what you’re saying is that since you can’t influence the weather, why bother worrying about it, right? Well, I guess that’s a pretty reasonable way to approach life, if you can pull it off. “

“Rain, no rain, who cares?”

We sat in a kind of prickly silence after that.

As he rounded onto Bloor at Spadina, he began to furiously pound on his horn. “Look at this, “ he yelled back at me. “The lady is taking up two lanes while she tries to turn!” As he was saying this he was driving past the SUV, but still honking his horn and sneering at the woman for good measure. Feeling slightly wounded by his response to my rain question, I said, “Ah, you shouldn’t worry about it! You can’t influence how she drives, so why get yourself all tied-up in knots?! “ Adding magnanimously, as if offering him a drink, “And besides, you’re already past her, relax! Traffic, no traffic, who cares?”

The driver exhaled loudly, looked back at me once and then looked back at me again before shaking his head from side to side.

“You think you’re smart guy, eh?” he said.

“Sometimes.”

“You feel smart right now?”

“I feel like a fucking Buddha.”

“You are no fucking Buddha.”

And for the rest of the fare we drove amidst a tense silence, one that was punctuated only by the sound of dispatch in the background.