My favorite cabbie is the philosophical cabbie. I'd been having good luck with cabs lately, and I've been encountering a lot of them. The last cabbie who drove me was a particularly nice fellow, too. I knew it was a good sign when  he didn't say "Too far!" or "The traffic's too heavy." or "I'm not going that way." when he asked me where we were going. He only smiled and said "Napalayo ka yata?" For the rest of the ride home, we talked about the nature of government and personal responsibility. He said something about being tried of hearing people, calling in to AM radio programs, blaming everything on the government. We're too blame too, he said. He feels like we've forgotten our own moral responsibility.

Talking to him reminded me of this one (philosophy) professor I had back in college. He told us about the time he took a break from teaching and drove a cab. He said he'd enjoyed his time driving. It relaxed him. This seemed incredible to me at the time because driving was (is) harrowing for me. But now that I think about it, cab drivers do have very purposeful existences. When the cabbie asks you where to go, you always have a destination in mind. "Take me here." Nobody gets into a cab without knowing where they want to go.

That, plus the fact that driving is a strange and ellucidating activity. Tyler Durden once asked "How much can you know about yourself if you've never been in a fight?" But I think we can rephrase him and ask ourselves "How much can you know about yourself if you've never been  behind a wheel?" If you're the kind of person who can keep a calm and level-headed perspective of things and people when you're driving, then I wish you nothing but the best. The world could stand to have a few more like you. But if you, like most of the other people on this planet, are the kind who degenerates into the sub-human honker who can't tell the difference between a pedestrian and an empty plastic bag, then for the love of all that is good and decent, then please, think twice. Start thinking about public transportation. It's the best time to do it anyway, what with all this pollution going on.

And yes, I have been behind a wheel before, many, many years ago. I have, since then, given it up for the sake of all mankind. You're very welcome.

What kind of cab driver is your least favorite?

[ ] inquisitive cabbie
[ ] angry cabbie
[ ] political cabbie
[ ] biblical/apocalyptic cabbie
[ ] slightly perverted cabbie
[ ] other (please specify)


Inquisitive cabbies don't mean you any harm, for the most part. For some reason they just want to know where you live, where you're originally from, if you're married, what you took up in college, what you do for a living, if that's what you originally wanted to do for a living and if you have any other life long dreams or goals you want to work on. Slightly perverted cabbie won't actually harass you physically, but you'll probably be made uncomfortable by his selection of green jokes that he thinks are a riot. Occasionally, you will encounter a cabbie that is two or more. For example, politcal cabbie who is also angry cabbie or angry cabbie who is also biblical/apocalyptic cabbie and is convinced that the world is coming to an end and that you are at your very last chance to repent and change your ways.

My most recent scary encounter with a cabbie (an angry cabbie) happened just a few months back. He kept yelling at every car that drove by, whether they actually passed him or not, claimed that he was in the right - that, in fact, he was the only remaining decent driver in the whole of Metro Manila - and that if people were more like him, there probably wouldn't be wars going on in the Middle East. Meanwhile, I was holding on for dear life, wondering if he wasn't a suicide pilot in a past incarnation. He was driving so fast that when we hit a small hole in the road the whole car jerked violently and I hit my head on the window. There was a resounding thump. Did I say thump? I meant  whack.  Anyway, I must have looked really funny because the cab driver laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. And then he decided we needed some music and played a Bon Jovi album. Figures.

I flag a cab down and he stops in front of me. I get in and make myself comfortable in the back seat. I turn to the cab driver and tell him where I'd like him to drive me. "Pateros," I say. He frowns bitterly and looks at me as if he were disappointed in my choice of living area. "Hindi. Hindi ako pupunta dun." (trans. No. No, I'm not heading there.) he tells me sharply. I shoot him a confounded look but he turns away, showing no sign of wanting to deal with me anymore. Please, anybody, stop me if this has happened to you before. Yeah? I thought so.

I'm sitting in the backseat and I am stumped. I am still in shock although, really, I probably shouldn't have been. After all, this isn't the first time something like this has happened. I've gotten this kind of reply from cabbies before. How and why they're allowed to get away with this kind of thing, I don't know. I'm a lifelong commuter and pedestrian and, for the most part, I really like it that way. I don't have to worry about gas, parking or traffic. I don't have to worry about competing on the roads for maniacs who can't tell the difference between a child and an empty bag of chips. There are enough trains and FX's everywhere to get me from one place to another without any real difficulty. No, I don't take cabs very often, but I think I get the idea of what they're supposed to be for - they take me where I want to go and I, in return, will pay them for driving me there. I'm not asking to take me out of Metro Manila. I'm not asking them to go on a wild goose chase (although, I admit, I've always wondered what it would be like to say get into a cab and exclaim "Follow that car! And step on it!"). I'm not asking to drive me to the the seventh circle of Hell - but from the way this cabbie, and a lot of others before him, was reacting, you'd think I was.

So here I am, in the backseat, puzzled, mostly indignant and really annoyed. I refuse to get out of the backseat.  The cabbie looks at me, from the rear view mirror at first, then turns back to me when he realizes that I'm not budging. "Okay!" I say to him with a smile. "Saan nyo po gustong pumunta?" (Where do you want to go?) "Huh?" he says to me and shoots a confounded look of his own. I keep smiling as I repeat the question. "Saan nyo gustong pumunta? Magbabayad pa rin naman ako eh!" (Where do you want to go? I'm paying!)

At this point, he is actually scratching his head. I've made him scratch his head. Hoorah. It is a small but meaningful victory. "Hindi pwede yun!" (It doesn't work that way!) he says. "Yun na nga po, eh. Pateros po, manong." (That's what I thought. Pateros, please.)

Still scratching, he slowly turns to the wheel and drives me home.