At the end of a long trip last week, I took a taxi from a BART mass transit station in San Francisco’s East Bay back to my house a few miles away.
As the law requires, I could only choose the first cab in line at the taxi stand, which was filthy. The driver begrudgingly popped the trunk, which was full of garbage, so I could stow my own suitcase inside. Throughout the ride, the driver never stopped talking on a headset connected to his cell phone, blasting the radio in the back seat so I couldn’t overhear his private conversation.
The driver had no idea where he was going, even though we weren’t leaving the city in which he picked me up, and asked repeatedly for me to tell him how to get there, directions he ignored, nearly missing every turn. He said nothing when I paid him, and sped off before I’d made it to the curb.
Read more at Forbes