Taxi rides
Okay, so, last night's taxi ride from the airport wasn't too bad. It was a $30 taxi ride, which is about $20 more than I really wanted to pay, but well, whatever. The driver was from Haiti, had been driving in Boston for 20 years, and was happy to talk. I was happy to listen. I figure, if something bad is going to happen to me in cars, it's less likely to happen if there's some sort of emotional attachment to the victim (i.e. me), so I converse, too.
When I hopped into the van, I let the driver know I was going to the Constitution Inn. He heard Residence Inn, despite my telling him where I was going, the address of the hotel and asking him if he knew where he was going.
We arrived at the Residence Inn. I stated this was not where I wanted to go. I said the Constitution Inn. Oh, he heard Residence Inn. I'm not sure how he heard that since I specifically said Constitution Inn three or four times.
Fortunately, the Constitution Inn is just down the street from the Residence Inn. Had it been any farther away, or not along the way to my hotel, I would have been annoyed.
Probably not as annoyed as this morning's taxi ride though.
I really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really should have realized that the smoke billowing out of the car did not portend well for a good ride to the convention center.
The lack of working seatbelt should have told me to get out of the car immediately.
In retrospect, I should have asked the driver to stop, left the taxi, and walked down to the next corner and flagged down the next taxi. Instead, I kept my mouth shut and hoped we weren't in an accident.
I didn't tip that guy much. I wonder if I should have tipped him at all.