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Post by Deleted on Jun 29, 2009 14:39:34 GMT
After the first week of the seminar when I was first exiled in Giza, we all needed a break. These seminars are dead slow because they are geared to a very wide range of nationalities and biorhythms. The grasp of the English language of some of the participants is quite tenuous and a lot of time is spent with some attendees serving as makeshift interpreters from the original obscure dialect of Indian English (usually) to 7 or 8 other languages. I myself would normally find myself sandwiched between the colleagues from Tunis and Casablanca who wanted everything translated into French.
In such groups, affinities form during the breaks, and I found myself spending most of my break time with Frankfurt, Mogadishu and Nairobi. It was Mogadishu who came up with the weekend plan. “I have always dreamed of seeing the Suez Canal,” he said. “We learned about it in school but I need to see it with my own eyes to believe it.” This made me smile because he was the person who lived the closest to the Suez Canal out of our group and he spoke of it as though it were as exotic as Machu Pichu or Tahiti.
He said he would take care of finding a taxi for the very best rate. “I am from Somalia,” he said. “They know that I cannot pay much.” Also, he spoke Arabic. On the morning of our departure, he told us to stay out of sight until the last minute, especially Frankfurt and me, “or the price will change.”
The deal was concluded and the agreed amount was paid for the Somali man and his “3 friends” – he came to get us in the reception of the hotel and we went out to the taxi. I saw the driver’s crestfallen look as he realized that he was the victim of a sting operation and would not be transporting 4 Somalis but instead 1 Somali and 2 big bags of European money on legs, and a Kenyan Pakistani who would have paid at least double the rate as well. A few sharp words were exchanged, but we all got into the old Peugeot 504 (the workhorse of Africa) and we began our adventure to the Suez Canal 130 kilometers away.
We couldn’t go very fast for the first 20 or 30 kilometers due to the heavy traffic of all sorts – trucks, cars, donkey carts, motor scooters, bicycles, most of which raised major clouds of dust. When traffic became lighter, the driver picked up speed and we went racing towards the city of Suez.
Bad move, because that’s when the police stopped the taxi for speeding. The policemen made a careful inspection so that the impending transaction would be more lucrative, checking if the license plates were properly fastened and if the windshield wipers worked. Mechanically, the cab seemed to be in order, but the driver still had to pay an amount in excess of what we had paid for the full day’s trip. He was not happy at all, but he did not seem to blame us for putting him in the wrong place at the wrong time. That was very much to his credit.
We continued on to Suez at a considerably reduced pace, but we arrived well in time for lunch, which we ate near the canal under a trellis covered with vines. Suez was a lot calmer and seemed more civilized than Cairo. We climbed up the embankment and saw the canal, just like that scene in Lawrence of Arabia when T.E. Lawrence discovers the canal with big ships steaming through. The Somali beamed with excitement and the rest of us were impressed by the sight as well. It seemed very historic and important – a true crossroads of the world. But it is still quite narrow, and it is hard to imagine that so much of the cargo of the world used to pass through there before the giant container ships started circumnavigating Africa and air cargo became practical.
After that, we returned to Giza without incident, arriving at sunset. The taxi driver had no hard feelings, even though he had lost his entire day of work and more because of the fine (or the bakchich). I’m sure that he hoped that we would need him again for another trip the next day, but no we didn’t.
The next time I ever took a taxi in the direction of the Suez Canal (with Brussels, Geneva and Istanbul on yet another seminar), we had a totally different incident, and the driver spat on the ground when we left his vehicle at the Ramses Hilton. But that’s another story…
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Post by Don Cuevas on Jun 29, 2009 23:18:50 GMT
I have no taxi tales the equal of K2's, but I'll do my best.
We were coming back from one of our earlier trips to Mexico, and wanted to cross La Frontera at Ciudad Júarez to El Paso, Texas. We hired a Mexican cab. He took us to the big, bow-backed bridge over the trickle of the Río Grande. There was a very long queue of vehicles in the 3 or so official lanes to the U.S. Border Immigration and Customs Station.
Eager to complete this fare, our taxista ran the cab up the wrong lane, against traffic. He was,we admit, adept at dodging the oncoming traffic as he swam upstream. I gave up my soul to God in the hopes that we wouldn't have a head on cllision.
Then, in a display of seldom paralled chutzpah, he motioned to drivers in the proper lane to let hm cut in. One did, and we closed n to the border station. However, the Mexican officials had seen the taxista's antics, had phoned the U.S. officials, and they made him wait in a slow lane. All this adventure and a memory, for only $35 USD.
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Post by Deleted on Jun 30, 2009 19:16:10 GMT
Here is a photo of my colleague from Mogadishu (red shirt) negotiating the purchase of some fruit for us at a Suez market. The local fruit on sale at that market stand just popped out at me as being about the most exuberantly ripe and ready-to-be-eaten-right-now fruit that I had ever seen.
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Post by bixaorellana on Jun 30, 2009 23:34:40 GMT
Everything is so little -- little grapes, little apples, little bananas -- but so yummy looking.
I like the guy standing in the middle of the first picture, not doing a very good job of pretending he's not noticing the camera.
Are those Coca-Cola signs on the white stand in the second pic?
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Post by Deleted on Jul 19, 2009 18:13:48 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Jul 26, 2009 16:22:43 GMT
No more taxis?
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paristraveler
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Post by paristraveler on Dec 29, 2009 15:27:55 GMT
"Reluctantly leaving the sensual delights of the Louvre, we spotted a lone taxi that was parked by itself at the curb. Rosalie and I started toward it, and the driver looked up and saw our approach. Since it is a strict law in Paris that cab drivers must get out and help stow any wheelchairs or assistive devices in their trunk, he immediately jumped out of his taxi and we greeted him with ”Bonjour, Monsieur”. He greeted us back politely in the same manner, but, as soon as one of us said something in English, he began waving his arms and pleading, “Oh, nononno, if you speak English, please do not speak French! I HATE the french!” He said he was Italian, and sang some little song in Italian, and got us laughing. On the trip from the Louvre to the bridge next to Notre-Dame, where I asked him to drop us off, he sang loudly in Italian, and inserted our names into the songs. It should have been a red flag to me when I tried to take his picture and he turned abruptly back to the front and said, “No pictures, no pictures!”
When he was ready to drop us on the bridge (my scarf shop was nearby and I wanted to do a little shopping before walking back to the hotel), he made sure we were still laughing at him and not paying attention to the meter. He told us “Twenty-five euros” when we stopped, so Rosalie handed him a 20 and a 5 euro bill. I didn’t think to check the meter (which was his intention all along) and we started gathering our things. Then, he held up two 5s and said, “You only gave me two 5s” so she handed him another 20. He was in a real rush to get away (gee, wonder why?) and he ALMOST got away with my bag, which was still lying on the backseat, and which contained my money and other stuff. I yelled at him to wait while I got my bag out. He did, but then made a quick getaway. Scammed. What dorks we were!"
From:
Parisfrancelady.wordpress.com
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Post by Deleted on Dec 29, 2009 17:50:05 GMT
Thank god he wasn't French!
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Post by Deleted on Dec 30, 2009 2:40:54 GMT
Thanks for this Paristraveler. Have been thinking about this thread lately,glad someone chimed in.
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Post by cristina on Dec 30, 2009 3:06:54 GMT
A couple of years ago, I was in London on business so afforded myself the luxury of a taxi to the airport when I was leaving. The driver was funny and charming and a wealth of information regarding the sights of London. He told me that all cab drivers in London had to take a course on London touristy things and seemed quite proud of his knowledge. However when I mentioned that the previous London Bridge now makes its home in Arizona, he didn't believe me. My only scary taxi story took place when I was in my twenties and flew to Chicago for work, landing after midnight. While on the expressway (with no safe or reasonable means of escape) my cab driver propositioned me. While he (thankfully!) accepted my decline of his offer, I instantly became more aware that every time I get in a taxi I'm getting into a car with a stranger. Since the advent of cell phones, I always text the cab number to someone when I get in. My son thinks I'm nuts. Of course I probably am, since the number of propositions has declined substantially over the years.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 30, 2009 14:29:22 GMT
About three years ago my Godmother,my mother's sister,Aunt Anne,(with whom I was very close to and spoke with weekly up until the time of her death at age 90)shared with me that she had never rode in a taxi cab. I arranged with my brother who lived nearby her,a taxi ride. We conferred with my mother and another sister,her children,to find out where all the memorable places in her life that they could recall, took place. We chose a day that her children conjured up some excuse for to take her out. the taxi came to her house and took her with her eldest son and granddaughter to all the places.Some of course were not there,but many were,former homes,places of birth,schools,restaurants the Long Island Sound where she swam and sailed often,and many others.My cousin(her son) told me she was a like a little girl. Funny how some passing statement,something we all would take for granted, can evolve into a wonderful gift to someone.
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paristraveler
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Post by paristraveler on Dec 30, 2009 17:03:33 GMT
Thanks for this Paristraveler. Have been thinking about this thread lately,glad someone chimed in. My pleasure, casimira, anytime!
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Post by Deleted on Dec 30, 2009 18:30:34 GMT
That's a lovely story, casimira. But it reminds me of my grandmother, every time I would bring her flowers in her retirement home. Instead of saying "those are lovely, thank you so much" she would say semi-disapprovingly "those must have cost a lot of money." Didn't Aunt Anne worry about the cost of her ride?
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Post by Deleted on Dec 31, 2009 0:54:46 GMT
I'm not rally sure K. she probably did. I do know that my brother and I had arranged in advance and my brother knew a cabbie (small town in north Shore). My cousin said my Aunt Anne wanted to know why meter wasn't running,it wasn't a real taxi ride in her mind if there was no meter running,so,he obliged her to make the ride as she imagined it would be.
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Post by bixaorellana on Dec 31, 2009 19:31:59 GMT
Great stories and useful cautionary tales. Even if the charming cabby or whomever isn't scamming or propositioning, it's so easy to get distracted and lose things while traveling.
That is a lovely story and great idea, Casimira. Older people frequently say they don't want more things, and we wrack our brains trying to find gifts they'll enjoy.
I would think an elderly person who'd never ridden in a cab would have no idea that they can be expensive. Even though they're frequently shown in movies, you seldom see or hear a specific amount for the fare.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 27, 2010 11:31:38 GMT
Yesterday afternoon I shared a cab with a young chap from NYC from Miami Beach to the Fort Lauderdale/Hollywood International Airport. The cab driver was of Dominican descent and was an absolute delight. All three of us engaged in a lively discussion of various topics,mostly travel. During the course of our discussion,the young man divulged that he was about to embark on a two month trip to Australia. I shared with him info about our Port (told him I believed there was a stunning travelogue about a member's recent trip to Oz, ) and he was intrigued with the idea of finding a forum with rich details about Oz. I carry a small over the shoulder purse with essential items and pulled out a note pad and wrote down the link to the Port for he and the cab driver. When I got to the airport,I was waiting to check in, and discovered my little ID case was missing. (I had my passport in a separate place thank God.) Anyway,just then,my cell phone rang and it was the cab driver calling me to tell me that my ID case was found in the back seat(under the seat belt)It had fallen out when I pulled out the note pad and pen.He had found my business card with my number on it and matched it up with the name on my driver's license! He wanted to know my current location so he could bring it to me. He came back to the airport and hand delivered my property. He would not accept any money from me. :-*Bodhisattvas everywhere.
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Post by lola on Jan 28, 2010 2:47:51 GMT
Blessed fine cabbies everywhere. I like the kind of stories like where they find a Stradivarius in the back seat and return it intact.
When you get around to putting all your memoirs together in a book, kerouac, I'd pay money for a copy.
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Post by suzanneschuelke on Feb 3, 2010 19:04:11 GMT
Three Abu Dhabi stories - two could have been scary - but only one was.
The first one was before I got used to Arabia and made up children. When he asked about children; I said I had none. Although I was in my late 40s at the time; he immediately started telling me about doctors my husband and I could go to to remedy the issue - he and his wife had used one successfully. It wasn't a single comment; it was the whole ride. He was sweet and so concerned about me.
The second was the one that should have been scary but wasn't. I got in the car and when I had known him perhaps 30 seconds asked if I wanted to be his UAE girlfriend. I said I was married and he asked if my husband was in the UAE. I (stupidly) said no and he said; "Wife in Pakistan, husband in America, what is the problem?" He let me out as scheduled with no problem.
The last was scary. I got in and he told me we needed to go to the US embassy and get him a visa. At the time I didn't understand that in the UAE a personal employer can sponsor you; so it just seemed bizarre. He kept insisting we go to the embassy and I kept saying that I couldn't help him get a visa. He was very intense and I was scared - but he did drop me off where I was going. My husband has since suggested that I should have let him take me to the embassy and then told the guards the story. It worked out OK though.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 19, 2010 12:46:32 GMT
I only took one cab while in NYC,with some friends,going home from dinner one evening. I had just purchased a gorgeous blue cashmere sweater for my mother as a gift. Lo and behold if I didn't leave it in the cab. Talk about furious!!! My dear friends son whom I was with and his fiance,unbeknownst to me until yesterday,somehow, succeeded in getting my gift back...Only in NYC would this happen,( I think anyway...)that he could track down a sweater... I think he jumped on it that night but,didn't tell me so as to not get my hopes up too high. And then, as some days passed he got around to letting me know he had recovered it. My mother loves it!!!
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Post by Deleted on Sept 22, 2010 0:59:55 GMT
I had a very cool cab ride from the station in Queens today to JFK. It was a flat rate cab ride,and I had lots of time to spare to get to the airport. I had a lovely Jamaican cabbie,who,when I commented on all the still existing tornado damage in Queens,offered to drive around a bit for me to take pics of. (Big trees down still,some on buildings,sidewalks completely lifted up off the ground...bizarre...). What a lovely ride I had,his beautiful accent and commentary on the whole dreadful ordeal.
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Post by bixaorellana on Sept 22, 2010 2:51:32 GMT
Oooo ~~ you have such good cabbie karma! Great that the sweater was recovered, and the Jamaican guy sounds like a prince.
I just get the wackos, generally ones who want to tell me their life stories.
I got a born-again proselytizer the other day, all the way from where I live to downtown. That's a longish ride that he made seem even longer. Everything was a lead-in to a heavy footed sermon, complete with homilies, parables, and the citing of chapter and verse. Finally, in an extravaganza of confused "facts", he told me the Catholic church puts too much emphasis on the Virgin Mary and completely ignores "all those other virgins -- the Virgin of Juquila, the Virgin of Guadalupe, the Virgin of San Juan del Mar ....." At that point I interrupted him and blurted (possibly too loudly), "They're all the same person!" As that shut him up momentarily, I launched into a breathless exposition of the manifestations of god, bringing in Hinduism and other things about which I basically know nothing. The main thing was to seamlessly keep talking so that he couldn't start up again. I'm quite good at bullshit once I get going, and the poor soul was gaping like a fish by the time we reached my destination. ;D
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Post by Deleted on Sept 22, 2010 3:56:39 GMT
That is f'n hysterical,I am laughing so hard after reading this tale, Bixa!! Jeez,mine,while pleasant yes,,do not have this kind of character laden detail !...you capture it so well! What a hoot!
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Post by Jazz on Sept 22, 2010 4:01:57 GMT
Taxi tales, or, my affinity with taxi drivers…
My mother and I were in Mexico City and I had decided on having dinner at a remote hacienda on the outskirts of the city. We leapt into the cab and proceeded on with high expectations. Within a block or so, I noticed what looked like a bullet hole in the lower left of the driver’s side. Oddly, he had requested that I sit in the front passenger side and I soon found out why. He instructed me to ‘grab the rope’, which was the only thing that held the door shut. He was driving so fast that there was absolutely no choice. The trip took 30 minutes, but seemed much longer. My nerves were shot by the time we arrived, but I gratefully let go of the rope and we went to dinner.
Versailles: This might not quite qualify, but it was the day of the mini shuttle to Versailles. Again with my Mother, and we paid a hefty sum. Instead of arriving at the appointed time (11AM), he showed up at 2PM (1400). We were the first and I (once again) was asked to sit in the front. The driver appeared to have no idea of how to get to the other hotels. My French was not that good and my knowledge of Paris even less so. However, I found myself with a map that he hurled at me, attempting to decipher where the hell the other hotels were, and worse, trying to communicate with him in French. (he didn’t speak a word of English). We somehow gathered up the others, hit the expressway (with me guiding him!!!) and finally arrived at Versailles at about 4PM (1600). It closed at 6PM. Of course, there wasn’t at all enough time to explore V. He resolutely and gratefully led us to a tour group and lagged behind, trying to disappear into the famous mirrors. Beyond it all at this point, I confronted his odd behaviour and he admitted this…No, I’ve never been to Versailles, but my brother-in-law was sick and I did this to save his job.
CDG to Paris: The best of all...my taxi driver was named Raffi and, since it was late afternoon rush hour, we had time to talk. Actually, he talked and I listened. He was about 10 years younger than I, married with children, and lived in a suburb of Paris. He drove cab now, but his parents had owned a food shop on rue Mouffetard for many years. His dream was to go to the south of France where it was cheaper and ‘slower’ and begin a new life for his family. He was convinced that he was just too old. Given that he was a vital and intelligent 42 year old, I just couldn’t accept this. Was 42 ‘old’ in France? Mon dieu. All I can say is that we talked and talked, and I did my best to encourage his dream, because I believed in it. He had great thoughts. This all transpired in an hour (very heavy traffic) but as we approached my apartment in the 11th, near the Bastille, he shrugged this all off and became a tour guide ‘extraordinaire’’. Fascinating. At last he located the address and announced that he couldn’t drive in due to ‘laws’. However, he looked around and promptly threw it into reverse and drove into the courtyard. My apartment was on the third floor and this magnificent man grabbed my heavy bag and jogged up 3 flights. The concierge and I both took note of his phone number for future trips. Raffi drove me back to the airport at the end of the month. I often wonder if he realized his dream. Whatever, he was a special man.
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Post by betsie on Sept 22, 2010 7:10:19 GMT
When I arrived in Nashville with my 9-year-old daughter, we were supposed to be picked up by a hotel taxi. We were very tired from the long flight and stood waiting at the taxi point.
Two taxi drivers asked us if we wanted a taxi and we explained we were waiting for the hotel taxi. They said that could take a while, and it was far too cold to stand outside, "and we don't want that chile to catch cold, do we?" They insisted that we wait in one of their taxis and before I could refuse, they picked up our luggage and stored it in the boot of the car and made us sit in one of their taxis. Having watched too many scary American TV series, I was convinced that we were about to be robbed and dumped on a roadside, or worse.
Nothing could have been further from the truth: they chatted to us till our hotel taxi arrived, then loaded our luggage for us, wished us a happy stay in the US and waved goodbye.
Just good, old-fashioned hospitality and goodwill.
PS: be careful using taxis in Amsterdam and other big western cities in the Netherlands: the taxi service was liberalised a few years ago and we now have a bunch of scoundrels driving them who will rob you blind if you let them.
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Post by bixaorellana on Sept 24, 2010 5:15:18 GMT
Aww ~~ more nice tales. Well, not so much Jazz in Mexico City, but at least it just turned out to be a funny story, as there have been "incidents" in that city. Raffi and the Nashville cabbies are the best of human nature.
The preacher I got the other day filled me in on his life before religion, which involved dealing cocaine, arrests, life in danger yadda di yadda di da.
This didn't quite measure up in length and exposition to the young guy who took me and a friend on a long drive to another town when we were in Michoacán. I was sitting up front and pretty much out of the blue he started telling me in great detail about his hitting bottom with crystal meth. This involved digging an old license out of his wallet so I could see how fat he used to be, crying, breast-beating, listing relatives who no longer spoke to him, then leaning all the way over the passenger seat, practically grasping my skirt as I attempted to fling the fare at him and get out of the cab at our destination.
Maybe my disconcerted blinking when people start unloading on me makes me appear to be kind and interested?
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Post by mickthecactus on Sept 24, 2010 16:01:19 GMT
We were in the back of beyond in Alabama on the Gulf of Mexico mid'90's and ordered a cab to get us to the tiny airport. The cab that turned up had various bits missing and was driven by an old hippy who asked us where we were from. We started with UK then he insisted that we gave more information which we did then he started telling us all about where we lived. Seemed he had been stationed in the UK not far from us some years before with the USAF. We discussed the M25 at some length. UK members here will know all about it...
Small world....
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Post by Deleted on Oct 10, 2010 21:36:06 GMT
There has been much negotiation about the future look of Parisian taxis. At the moment, they are whatever color, style or brand the company or private owner has chosen. But there was a move to make them more visible by "unifying" the look, with a vague idea based on NYC taxis being yellow. The city proposed a red and black motif. It has been turned down -- "we do not want to look like clowns" -- I think this has to do with the large number of privately owned taxis in Paris (I don't know the percentage) that double as private vehicles when the taxi sign is covered.
Anyway, it has been agreed that by the end of 2011, all taxis will be black. Also the taxi signs on the roof will be modified with very bright red and green LEDs to make it more obvious whether taxis are available or not. I've seen a couple of taxis already with the new LEDs, and they are a BIG improvement. As for the color of the vehicle, I don't think it really matters at all.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 26, 2011 14:29:14 GMT
The taxis of Paris continue to change their signs slowly but surely, but still no more than about 10% of the taxis have the new signs. I guess it confirms that taxi drivers really do buy the sturdiest and most reliable cars and do not change them very often.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 2, 2012 7:31:15 GMT
Well, all taxis are not yet all black, and the red and green indicators are still not on all the taxis (probably a bit more than half of them). Not surprising really, since I think just about everywhere in the world it is a very unruly and independent profession.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 2, 2012 22:31:50 GMT
Curious that you should bring this up Kerouac as our weekly newspaper has a piece in it this week about regulating all the taxis here in NOLA,with a proposal of 32 ordinances to "reform" the taxi industry,including a ban on cabs more than 10 years old,and the installation of cameras and backseat. "passenger information monitor" screens, . I'll believe it when I see it...
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