Jump the Curb

Last night we had our scariest near-death-in-a-cab experience yet in Abu Dhabi. Sarah, Amanda, Kate and I hopped in a cab in front of the Sheraton after our afternoon of tanning (i.e. burning) by the pool and fajitas at Sombrero (the hotel’s pseudo-Mexican restaurant with Filipino waitresses in the heart of Abu Dhabi). The cab drivers typically know how to approach Al Falah Plaza even if they don’t know the last few turns to our place, but this guy had NO idea where we were going. Within the first two minutes he proclaimed, “Sorry, it’s my first night on the job.” Not a good start. He immediately took a wrong turn, which led us down more wrong turns and one way streets, some of which he took going the wrong direction, then we somehow made it back to the Sheraton. Oh, have I mentioned that he seemed to aim the car tires for every possible curb and bump he could find? One would think, once we reached the Sheraton (going the wrong way in their one-way valet lane of course), we would hop out and try our luck at another cab/driver combo. We were in the mood for adventure though, so we continued to take our chances. We finally made it out onto the correct road after a few more curb-hopping explorations, Sarah looking out the window to tell him when to merge, and the like. He kept apologizing and seemed somewhat embarrassed, though really he should have turned the meter off to make amends. Sarah was nice; she told him it was a good learning experience for him. She’s much more empathetic than I am—I asked him if he had any other career aspirations, and I may have asked if he’d ever driven before. Hopefully I said those things in a quiet voice. I’m mean. That’s beside the point. After another curb or two and some honking horns, Sarah thought it was time to rub his flailing ego a little (maybe he would get us home with more confidence?) so she asked for his phone number for our future taxi needs…poor guy, what hope he had! Maybe we’ll call in a month or two, if he still has a license. We made it back to Al Falah in one piece, though we were all visibly holding our breath as we rounded the last turn he had to make, where there is a space between two parked cars (i.e. the middle lane of the road). No scratched doors, no missing tail lights or side view mirrors, probably just some bumps and bruises on the underside of his cab.

Now I know how driver’s ed teachers and my father must have felt, though I think I was easier on the curbs than our new friend Jerome.