THE FAT FUCK
One morning, I need to bring my keyboard and amp to work because later that night I have a band gig (heavy stuff to lug around…for those of you who’ve ever gigged before). I hop into a cab whose overweight driver seems worried about the traffic. I dutifully tell him there will be none at this time of day, then promptly ignore him. True enough there is traffic. By the time we get to my office, the Fat Fuck has sighed and tsk-tsk-tsked about a hundred times. My bill is P80, I hand him P90, because I don’t have exact change. I ask if he has P10 change. He says:

“Tip mo na lang yon. Kita mo na kung gaano ka-traffic yong dinaanan natin.” (“Give that to me as a tip, you can see how much traffic we had to drive through.”)

My blood boils. I glare at hime with the wrath of the almighty. But he avoids my eyes and scratches his belly. I try to argue with him but he listens not. Fearing that if I make a scandal, he might just drive off with my 24-thousand-peso keyboard (which is in the luggage compartment) I decide to be prudent and silent, get my keyboard and amp and walk away without closing the luggage door. I’m in a blue funk the entire day, wondering when I’ll ever stop being such a fucking nice doormat for the Fat Fucks of the world.

THE COP HATER
Just recently, I get into a cab whose front passenger door is crushed into an odd shape. I ask the driver what happened and he says how, during traffic, a Pajero caused the major dent when it drove straight into the door without looking. The police came upon the scene like harpies and were even asking the guilty Pajero owner (who was a foreigner) if he wanted the police to make it look like it was the taxi driver’s fault!

Good thing the foreigner was an honest, God-fearing man (Couples for Christ sticker on his back window) and said no. The police then came up to the cab driver and asked: “So, paano na iyan?” (“How’s this?”)… roughly meaning, “If you want to get out of this mess you better pay me some bribe.

And my driver said: “Bossing, umaamin na nga yung ‘Kano!” (”Sir, the American is already saying it’s his fault!”) The cab driver got away without having to pay a bribe, thank goodness.

But he did go on to share how many cops have ridden in his taxi and been talking about how much money they’d made in bribes the entire day. (Apparently, P5,000 is a good average on a busy workday.) There were even cops riding in his cab to go to a (self-proclaimed) raid---- meaning they go into a Shabu den in plain clothes, say it’s a raid, but instead of arresting anyone, they promptly go to the owner and ask for money to keep silent about their drug den.

Sigh. So much for the city’s protectors. And my poor cab driver could only say: “Tang-inang mga pulis iyan!” (“Those police are all sons of whores!”)

THE BLOODY RANGER
And of course there is the unforgettable 1997 cab ride where, when my friend and I ask whether the route we want to take is traffic-heavy, the driver explodes into a tirade, roughly translated into english as:

“Traffic? It’s traffic everywhere! And it’s all (then-President) Ramos’ fault! He’s mucked up everything! He’s made it so that it’s impossible for guys like me to get a job doing what we enjoy most! I used to be with the army, but ever since Ramos made the soldiers into a police force…. All of us soldiers have had to become traffic cops. It’s disgusting! That Ramos is a son-of-a-bitch!”

“Do you know? I used to be a Ranger. I was stationed in Mindanao, man. They left us there for so long, that we stank to high heaven. When the helicopters came to pick us up, the pilots all threw up when they smelled us. Why? We were soaked in blood, my friend. We cleaned out rebel-infested towns there. We didn’t have the luxury of bathing for months on end. We were caked in blood and mud, and had these molds in our feet and groin. And do you now? We had no food after a while. We boiled grass and ate that. Have you ever tasted grass? Huh? Huh? HAVE YOU?”

Uh oh. By this time, my friend and I are quaking in our boots, wanting nothing better than to disembark from this mad driver’s cab. But of course, he continues in a high-pitched accusatory wail.

“And now I’m a fucking cab-driver. Is the world fair? Traffic all day long! Oh man, if I had my old revolver back, give me a clear shot at Ramos, bitch, I’LL TAKE HIM DOWN! I’m actually a nice man, but these stupid politicians are all shit.”

At which point, another car cuts him off and he screams out his window:
“Putang-ina mo! Mamatay ka sana! TANG-INAAAAAA!!!!” (“Your mother’s a bitch. Hope you die!”)

Good thing we reach our destination. We pay the fare and leave him a generous tip, glad to be free of the diatribe. The driver thanks us nicely.

+ + +

<Author's Bio>
Lionel is cheap. He used to abhor taking taxis because they cost roughly 5.333 times as much as taking a bus and two jeeps. However in his mellow age, he has resorted to cabs during moments of exhaustion, convenience and unusual instances of disposable income surplus… only to realize just how crazy cab drivers can sometimes be.