I look in the rear view… The usual wave of upcoming traffic is nearing fast. ZOOM!! I jump across all three lanes diagonally ahead of them!
Jeez! Why did I pick this guy up?? I’m gonna have to call this trip soon… REAL soon!!
Borat now goes on to inquire about “other… big city… near.”
Driver, schooling, “Well, other than San Francisco, you could blo… er, there’s L.A., about a six-hour drive south. That, and San Francisco, are two of the more popular cities in California.”
Borat replies, confused, “L…A…? Cal-i-fornia?”
And once again, he stares deeply into me, with nothing more.
Borat suddenly spots a Yemeni restaurant. It would seem that this is the restaurant he mentioned previously, as the sight of it is abruptly punctuated by the Borat command to…
This restaurant is only a few blocks from Borat’s original pick-up back on Union! But at his direction, this has turned out to be a very long, circular ride!
The fare ends up $13.95.
However, it seems that Borat will not free his servant so easily.
Borat demands, “What is… your name? Give me phone… number. YOU! Are my driver!”
Driver, “My name is Alex. Nice to meet you. What’s your name?”
I extend my hand.
But Borat just stares suspect at my hand, then turns up to pierce, yet again, deeply and all skeptical into my eyes.
Huh? Is Borat trying to think of a fake name??
In response to Borat’s request for my number, I simply write “Alex” on the back of a generic Citizen’s Cab business card, knowing full well that we will not meet again. Even if he were to call the main line listed on the card, I would be told by dispatch that I’ve been personally requested. And I will screen any such request wickedly, like the infidel I am!
(Besides, this is definitely my last ride before the weekend. And I don’t work weekends.)
Borat now scowls at the meter. But he does begin to judiciously sort through some crisp bills he has stored in his stars & stripes fanny-pack.
He hands me over a twenty on the $13.95 fare. And I give him six dollars back. But Borat skeptically examines the six dollars in his open palm, and then me… and silently waits!
Wha?? Is he really expecting the five cent difference back? Or is he somehow fishing to see if I’ve ripped him off? WTF!? I certainly did not expect a tip. But Borat can’t seriously be tripping over five cents!
We both continue staring each other down for well over a minute, dumbfounded.
FINALLY, Borat breaks first! He smiles broadly and exits the taxi, with,
“YOU! Are my driver. I will finish… soon. YOU! Will come!”
Uh, sure… I’ll be right back.
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Photo by Alex SacK