Worst Taxi Ride

Hello Everyone!

I know I’m late with this post, but due Thanksgiving yesterday, I didn’t get a chance to post. So today, I’m working on play catch up with the #FreeWritingChallenge posts.

Yesterday’s post was about writing about a taxi ride that didn’t go so well.

So here’s a little story, I wrote.

Enjoy!

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It was my first time visiting the big city. The skyscrapers, bridges, and various attractions made for a beautiful site, but it could get crowded.

As part of my trip, I made an itinerary of places to visit. The first stop was a local art museum, which had 5-star ratings on the travel site I got it from.

Stepping onto the sidewalk, I extended my thumb to hail a cab. One by one, I watched as the yellowed cars passed me.

Annoyance crept in. What do I have to do to catch a taxi?

A few blocks away, I spotted a taxi slowing down. Maybe he’s stopping for me. I jumped up and down, trying to signal him.

I watched as the taxi continue to slow, the pass me. It only got to a block before it jammed on brakes. Quickly, I ran to grab it before anyone else could. Climbing in, I offered a thanks of gratitude to the driver, who didn’t say anything.

Looking up, I locked eyes with the male driver. I estimated he had to be middle-aged with dark hair and a scruffy beard.

“Where to?” he asked in a less than pleasant voice.

“The Art Deco Museum,” I replied.

He nodded before pulled the taxi out onto the street. He almost collided with a moving fan. Honking the horn, the taxi driver dropped an expletive. Little did I know that wouldn’t be the last of his swear words.

I held on for dear life as the driver sped through the intersections, almost hitting other cars. I said a quick prayer as he exhilarated through a traffic light just before it turned red.

I hoped we could get to the museum soon. Actually, I hoped we’d make it there in one piece.

Alas, it seemed fate wasn’t on my side today when we hit a traffic jam on Main Street. The cause was do to the construction crew fixing the potholes.

Tempers flared all around, especially from the taxi driver.

“Move it along slow pokes,” the cab driver shouted out the window.

“Quiet down,” a truck driver called out.

“Don’t you f***ing tell me what to do,” the taxi driver called back.

I looked on in shock at the verbal exchange, I didn’t know whether to keep listening or cover my ears.

“How bout I come over there and shut you up?” It looked like the taxi driver was about to jump out of the vehicle.

Luckily, the line moved before he had a chance to do anything. A breathed a sigh of relief as the truck disappeared ahead of us along with a few other cars.

After ten exhausting minutes, we finally broke free of the jam. The driver remained quiet as the taxi made sharp turns at every corner. There were so many, I lost track. The sharp curves did a number on my stomach, I thought I was going to lose my lunch.

I took a few deep breaths, which seemed to help.

A few minutes later, the taxi pulled up to an old, brick building.

“That’ll be twenty one dollars.”

I handed the driver a twenty and five before hopping out. I didn’t care about change, I was thankful to be out of the cab. I was so happy, I almost kissed the ground.

Yet, my happiness was short-lived as I looked around the street. Brick townhouses lined the sidewalks, none of which were the art museum. The place I was looking for was huge with marble pillars.

“Great, I’m lost,” I said in an exasperated tone.

“May I help you ma’am?” An elderly man was walking his dog when he came upon me.

“Yes, maybe you can. Do you know where the Art Deco Museum is?”

“You’re in the wrong neighborhood,” the man replied.

Tell me something I don’t know.

“Don’t worry, it’s not that far.” He pointed down the street. “Just keep going straight. Then make a right, walk about five blocks and you’ll find the museum.”

“Thank you, sir.” I nodded before beginning my trek to the museum.

“It may be quicker if you take a taxi.”

“I’m fine with walking.” I recall the taxi ride from hell, then I make a mental note to take a bus back to the hotel.

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