I have met some cray-ass-bem-louco taxi drivers. They seem to be more interested in your life than the regular hairdresser lady who seems to know everything about everyone on TV. Traveling by taxi is like a third degree interrogation or other weirdness.
I left on a Sunday afternoon to Germany to be in a meeting Monday morning. The Portuguese taxi driver is super talkative. “I hope you do not mind but, on the way to the airport I need to drop off things to my niece. Did I tell you my nieces are the cutest? So good looking?” Me thinking: Merlin´s beard, this one is crazy. So we went to drop off things somewhere to his super good looking niece, who btw, if you didn´t get it yet has got a twin. This additional new route took 20 min, and during that time I heard at least 10 times about his good looking niece(s) (the twins). I was also harassed to tell my nationality, rent price, house condition, workplace, studies etc… Not much lying to be done since he picked me up in front of my house.
In Germany I had an a**hole of a taxi driver. Because I was young and traveling by taxi to a nice hotel means that I MUST HAVE a lot of money. So the interrogation was about my monetary situation. Which is not good btw, student + loans + working in Portugal. The driver wanted me to pay him 20e of tip!?!?! After the whole rude questioning before. No way. Fight fight fight. FYI I am not paying 20e tip to a butt hole who assumes I am rich for travelling alone on a Sunday by cab for work. The taxi driver seemed to be mad at me for some reason. I did not know I had a thick wallet and was related to the King of Sweden… good to know when the bills arrive.
In the UK I was met by a cab driver who started asking questions one nanosecond after I got in the cab. I was picked up at an office building in the middle of industrial city suburbs – aka nowhere. “So? Were you on an interview?” Me: ? “Did it go well? It looks like it because your interviewer is waving to you outside?” Me: ????? I didn´t even have time to answer. After the questioning-vomit-attack ended, I replied horrified. “I am here for work.” The driver: “OOOOOOH. So you are not from the UK, where are you coming from?” Me: “Portugal” …and that’s how the fun started. I do not look Portuguese, I do not sound like one… How come I come from there, where do I work, live, eat, sleep, first time in the UK?, future plans?, weddings?? When I rushed out from this horrible questioning session the driver sticks his head out of the cab window to scream from the bottom of his lungs. 18 POUND TO THE AIRPORT TODAY, CALL MEEEEEEEEE. Over my dead body.
Arriving back to Lisbon, I got to know some Chinese people who are married and own a kebab place. Yes. I was involved again in a weird situation when the taxi driver decided to meet up with old friends when I was on board.
Next time I will take an Uber. Does not matter how illegal it is. They simply ask if the music is ok and if I want to have WIFI and stay the hell quiet. My Finnish personality cannot take more. Silence and space please.