First, let me start by saying that when you’re in the process of hailing a taxi–I mean, really hailing a taxi–you must follow one solid pathway of thinking:
The world doesn’t revolve around you.
Simply put, when your hands raise ever so slightly and magically you think you’ll be able to grab the fastest and most reliable taxi, think again. In an instant, you can be easily overlooked and if anything, given no choice in where the taxi drops you off because the nature of the trip–other than to take your money–is dependent on the mood, determination, and otherwise “giveacrapness” of the taxi driver (or the guy posing as the taxi driver).
So, you’re probably wondering where all of this is coming from? Well, in DC, the loveliest district a boy could ever want, taxis are a dime a dozen. If you throw a dead cat with only one life left, you’re bound to smack that faithful cat into a taxi stand or driver on a cigarette break. However, the other night after the election, myself along with a few other Obama Souls, found ourselves in a series of other lost Obama Souls looking for the ideal taxi to take home. In fact, it was like a scene from a really bad Stephen King movie. You know, the kind with commercials and bad lighting?
Anyway, it took us a long minute to finally find a taxi and it was only by the grace of God that we found the one we did. We saw a couple waiting for a taxi (amongst the sea of many other people with their hands extended) and after a quick conversation about their 40 minute wait for a taxi with no success, we quickly took the next taxi ahead of them.
Yeah, I know, it didn’t look good but hey, it was late and I personally was hungry.
So, all in all, we made it home and celebrated about the streets with fireworks and tears in a grand effort to inhale as much of the evening as we could.
Including hailing a taxi.