The Ugly Taxi Driver

So the next taxi driver really got me. When I hopped into his taxi at Detroit Airport (I didn't have any other choice), he told me the rate would $45, and said maybe $39 when I protested. I asked him to turn on the meter.

I was tired and wanted to keep quiet, but responded when he started the standard chatting.

-- Where are you from? (Washington DC.) No, where are you from? (Ann Arbor.) No, where are you from? (Hong Kong.)

He asked me to sit next to him in the front.

I climbed to the passenger seat while the car was moving. His hand was on my knee when he helped me climb over. Then his hand stayed on my leg and later tried to reach for my hand. I rejected nicely. (Your hand is cold.) I told him about my boyfriend, my job and so on.

He had a strong accent that I had a hard time understanding him. I found absolutely nothing interesting in him to strike the tiniest conversation. I searched for all harmless topics--food, places, friendships, work, family, hobbies, dreams, weather ... No, nothing.

-- I want a girlfriend. How old are you? 22? I came from India, in the north, long time ago, in 1984. I've always lived here in Detroit, near the airport. I have been driving a cab for a year. Before this I did a lot of different works. Roofing, you know? Hard work. My brother and sister live in California, San Jose. They don't come here. I don't go there. I am 38. Yes I want to get married too. I want a girl from around here. You need an Indian boyfriend. Do you need money? I give you money. I work 5 days a week. After work, I just sleep. And I go to bars. I don't cook. I eat out. I don't travel. I watch movies. Adult movies, do you know? No TV? Do you need a TV? I have a 48 inch TV. Why are your teeth black? Do you take drugs? Marijuana? No? Why not?

His answers were always extremely vague and sometimes hesitant. I suspected nothing he said was true. He was so insecure.

He kept his cold hand on my lap and then moved to touch my hair and my neck. I was tense all over. But I was too scared to say anything more than "Drive carefully. Your hand is too cold." He said I was nice. Then someone called him and he had to move his hand away. He talked in a foreign tongue.

He drove slowly in town to delay the time to drop me off. In front of my house, the meter showed $46 and he asked me to pay that amount. He gave me his card, and circled his name--San Gill. His smile was so slimily. I shook in disgust.

-- Call me if you feel lonely and want to go out.

I told Mike. Mike was furious and immediately called the driver, yelled at him, and declared to report the incident to the police. I found myself tense all over. I didn't want to think about it anymore. I went to the shower to get rid of the disgusting feeling. As the water fell on me, I began to remember all those dreadful men in the past. The pain and ugly feeling grew inside of me until I curled up and started to shake uncontrollably.