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November 14, 2005
The Thinking Fool and His Dad Go to Vegas: Chapter I, Better Luck Next Time, Cabbie
As soon as my plane touched down, I reached into my pocket, pulled out my cell phone, and dialed my dad’s number.
Thinking Fool: I’m here.
Thinking Fool's Dad: I’m waiting at your gate.
Despite flying from opposite sides of the country, my father and I actually managed to arrive at the Las Vegas airport within fifteen minutes of each other. The Vegas adventure was certainly off to a good start.
When we walked outside the airport terminal, we looked at the taxi line and were somewhat astonished by its enormous length. (Feel free to insert anatomy joke here, and by “anatomy,” obviously I mean “penis.”) A half hour later, our time to hop in a cab had finally arrived.
Cabbie: Where are you fellas headed?
Thinking Fool's Dad: The Flamingo.
When you take a cab from the Vegas airport to any hotel on the strip, you know within seconds whether the cabbie is an honest, hard-working individual or a despicable piece of scum looking to rip you off. How? Well, if you travel through a tunnel and end up on a freeway, the driver falls into the scumbag category. The freeway route always increases the fare by five to eight dollars and is one that drivers are not allowed to take unless they specifically get authorization from the customers beforehand.
Perhaps we looked like your average unsuspecting tourists. Perhaps our driver always “tunneled” his passengers and kept his fingers crossed that they wouldn’t know any better. Regardless, one thing is for certain. Our driver certainly didn’t receive authorization to take us through the tunnel.
Thinking Fool’s Dad: Does he know we’re not going downtown?
Thinking Fool: (Making sure the comment could be heard by the driver) No, he’s just taking us the special way.
As soon as the meter hit the thirteen dollar mark, the approximate amount of money a ride from the airport to the Flamingo should cost, I decided to take down the driver’s information.
Thinking Fool: (To my dad) Do you have a pen?
Thinking Fool’s Dad: Yeah, why?
Thinking Fool: Because I’m going to report him.
I spent the next few minutes trying to write down as much information as I could, but given the poor lighting – the freeway doesn’t offer a whole lot in that area – I knew I’d have to wait until we actually arrived at our hotel to get all of the scumbag’s info. As we pulled into our hotel’s entrance, a few more comments seemed particularly appropriate.
Thinking Fool: Boy, I’ve been to Vegas a lot of times and I can’t remember it ever costing this much to get to the Flamingo. I guess that’s what happens when the driver takes you through the tunnel.
The driver’s response? Not a word. (It’s quite fun to see how a person reacts to getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar, especially when that person lives in a city where the mayor recently encouraged chopping off vandals' fingers!)
Thinking Fool’s Dad: Why’d you take such a long route to get us here?
Cabbie: I wanted to beat the traffic.
Thinking Fool’s Dad: (Said in a “You’ve got to be kidding me” tone) You wanted to beat the traffic? You know, we’ve been here a lot of times. What did you think, we’ve never been here before?
When we finally stopped, the fare on the meter was $19.90. Now that there was enough light to see, I resumed taking down all of the driver’s info. This time, the driver noticed what I was doing and, well, I think it'd be an understatement to say that he didn't seem particularly pleased.
Driver: (Yelling sarcastically) THAT’S GREAT! GO AHEAD AND WRITE IT ALL DOWN! MAKE SURE YOU GET MY NAME AND EVERYTHING ELSE ON THERE!
Upon exiting the cab, I grabbed our bags while my dad handled the fare. My dad handed the driver twenty dollars and just stared at the cabbie.
Cabbie: (Looking at my dad, quite confused) What?
Thinking Fool’s Dad: I want my dime.
Cabbie: Excuse me?
Thinking Fool’s Dad: You heard me. I want my dime back.
Cabbie: (Throwing the twenty dollars at my dad) YOU KNOW WHAT? KEEP YOUR FUCKING MONEY IF YOU’RE GOING TO BE A CHEAP PRICK.
I must admit that taking advantage of someone who tried to take advantage of my dad and me was quite fun, especially since another cabbie told us that if a driver doesn’t collect a fare, the driver has to compensate the cab company accordingly. Sometimes (fortunately), dishonesty really doesn’t pay! I know I had never had a cabbie pay for one of my meals before. Guess there’s a first time for everything. In keeping with that sentiment, on Wednesday, I think I’m going to try crack or heroin for the first time. I'll let you know how that goes. Oh, by the way, I never actually reported the driver. I figured since we got a free cab ride out of the deal, we hadn't been harmed. Nevertheless, the driver probably won't be sending my family a Christmas card this year.
More tales from the adventure in Vegas, comments about the television show, "Laguna Beach," and other random thoughts, including my upcoming experience smoking crack, coming throughout the week.
Comments
Watch your back. I live in this town, and you do NOT want to go against the taxi mafia. They will destroy you at the first opportunity -- and they know where to bury the body.
Posted by: Neel Mehta at November 14, 2005 02:25 AM
Papa Fool is my new hero.
Posted by: The Attractive Nuisance at November 14, 2005 07:39 PM
YOU SHOULD HAVE REPORTED HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Posted by: Finished.Law.School at November 19, 2005 09:28 PM
