Everybody Jump (Part 4)

Part 1

Part 2 – I Think I Wore This Before

Part 3 – Dance Like No One’s Watching

I Must Be Getting Old, Because I Can Have Fun Sober

Two words will say it all: designated driver. Let’s put it this way… when it comes to such events, our dear old taxi drivers turn from your everyday vultures into… jackals maybe? I think that’s appropriate enough, although I’m not such a connoisseur of wild life, so if a better comparison comes to mind, feel free to share it. But I can be an argumentative little beast myself. It’s not really about the money, but the principle involved. I live here, I know the town, I know the routes, I also know what the right price should be; and while I always tip the driver and I wouldn’t mind paying a little bit extra on that sort of occasion, I absolutely refuse to pay five times the real fare. I will certainly state my point of view to the driver… and I will inevitably be kicked out of the taxi, rude words will be exchanged, and that’s how one generally ends up having to walk home.

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