Many Adventures, Fat Sweaty Taxi Drivers

OK, so the last blog referred to a headache I had from being tired from not getting any sleep one night because I had food poisoning because I had fruit for breakfast after drinking cows blood from the night before. I will explain more momentarily, in the next blog.

But today...

So I decided to go with some of the girls to Palermo, an area where we went to the Diamond Bar the other night, and got turned away from two bars, because even though they were empty, they could not find a way to accommodate about a dozen Americans looking to spend cash on their absurdly cheap food. In Palermo, Amex was running a special with certain stores where one would automatically get 20% off clothes and 30% off food at certain merchants, about 2 fifths or one-half of the places there. Anyway, so we call two cabs from the hotel, which is thought of as being safest because you´re calling established "legit" cab companies. So two cabbies show, and they know each other. We start driving from the hotel, and they do this thing which has happened a couple times where they essentially do a circle around the hotel so they can go in the other direction - U-turns are apparently not done, though driving and weaving across lanes is ok, coming within inches of pedestrians is ok, and driving without lights off (only occasionally turning them on to signal your presence amongst other automotive psychotics) is absolutely dandy. Many seem to do it (circle around the hotel), so I assume it´s a legit move rather than an attempt to ripoff idiot tourists like myself. When I got in the cab, the passenger seat - shotgun, had a bunch of crap in it, from CDs to an asthma inhaler. The guy was about a deuce and a half, 5-5 and sweating profusely. So we drive off, do the circle around the hotel. At one light, these two douchebags pull up next to each other and start joking with each other in Spanish. Approximately 4 minutes into the drive as we´re driving, Jabba the Sweaty Taxidriver turns to us and tries to convince us to take some tour, which he obviously gets a piece of. We turn him down politely. About 5 minutes into the drive, he tells us that he needs to get gas. I´m thinking, are you fucking kidding me? How about not picking up fares until you have gas? So we are driving, and the other cab is following us. Apparently, they should have gone in another direction than us to go to Palermo but they were following us because the cabbies were friends. The second cabby asked the girls if they wanted to tag along with us on our intrepid expedition to the diesel station. Apparently, the girls weren´t into getting into line for gas they didn´t need behind one of the more slovenly pieces of garbage in the ironically named city of Buenos Aires. So we´re waiting in line for gas. The meter is running. I tell Jabba the Sweaty Fuck to shut it off. I can´t speak spanish, so instead, I point at the meter, look pissed, and do a throat cutting sign with my hand. Jabba the Urine Stained Taxi Driver says, it will cost only one peso more. ONE PESO MORE! I was ready to either leave the cab, or help him further establish his "Urine Stained" street cred, except that the cab had Linda S., Mari K. and someone else...I forgot who it was, maybe Amy C. Anyway, I turned to them and said that the situation was absurd, and that I was ready to skate. They were paralyzed, because, I assume, they´re girls, and natural instincts push towards safety - they didn´t realize we were about half a mile away from our hotel, and about a quarter mile away from a Sheraton. I did, because I was paying attention, but I said that I would encourage them to leave, because I was ready to get out of the damned cab, but that I would not abandon them should they decide not to leave the cab for whatever reason. After approximately 5 minutes of waiting in line, a good solid 5, we pull up to the diesel pump. So then Jabba the Diabetic-in-Waiting asks us to get out of the car. To this moment I still have absolutely no idea why he wanted us to get out of the car. I don´t know if it was because he wanted to fill the car and needed us out of the finest subcompact Peugeot in Buenos Aires made with a vintage of 1974 to do so, but I think he was surprised when we finally walked away - it was finally enough to galvanize the girls into getting out and moving on. I think he was surprised when we walked away though, it seemed like he thought we would stay. I think he was shocked we stayed as long as we did. I was. Oh, Jabba the Pit Stained Stench also had an illegal copy of Madonna´s Immaculate Collection on the front seat too. So we walked over to the Sheraton and got a cab. To make up for this horrible experience, when we came back from Palermo, I picked the cab, out of one that passed by. I let three pass and picked one that was about two years old and in great shape. We let him know the address, and off we went. The guy not only did a good job, but he actually asked us which of two routes we wanted him to take back to the hotel. About 3 minutes later, I asked Barbara C. to help teach me how to say that his cab was the "greatest in all of South America." I also gave him some credit as well, in my incredibly lame Spanish (me pointing at him and saying "Muy Bueno" several times over could have qualified me for the on-stage role in spanish speaking countries of the Raymond part in a theatrical version of "Rain Man"). So when he dropped us off, we paid him, and tipped him about 3 pesos, which was about one dollar. The girls gave him 12 for an 11 peso fare, and I took a two peso bill from him and gave him a five. His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree (cabbies are not generally tipped). Nice guy, good guy, good karma deserved a good payback for this driver. He was amused when we were complimenting him, and noted that there were generally only very old and very new taxis in Buenos Aires, due to the extended period where they were having hyper-inflation in their country, thus necessitating a holdup in investment. There´s similar issues in overall Argentina now, where an anti-business president who is "brain-dead" has basically pushed policies that have frozen prices for products in place. Over two months, one guy´s electric bill was less than 1 dollar here. As a result, no one´s going to want to invest money in a climate like that, where the president has basically limited free-market movements.

Hitting a Saturday arts and crafts fair in La Recoleta tomorrow, near a famous cemetery where the beloved Evita Peron is buried. Must go to sleep now.