I heart the NYC Taxi & Limousine Commission

While I have always liked NYC cab drivers, I have never loved them more than I do now after the debacles I have experienced in taxis here in India. Aside from the frightening speed and absolute lack of adherence to traffic laws (which Will has alluded to), the greatest distinction I have found is that NYC taxi drivers are actually familiar with the city they work in.

In general, my transport methods throughout the city of Mumbai include the overstuffed trains or Russian Roulette Rickshaws, and I have recently tried the "Double your travel time" city bus. But occasionally, I have attempted to take a taxi to a place unreachable by public transportation. In all of these endeavors, I have ended the ride vowing never again to take a taxi in this country.

This is how the process works. Before I get in, I ask the driver if he knows my destination. Keeping in mind that the driver usually does not speak English and almost always responds with a head bobble (which I've officially learned means "Yes", "Maybe" or "I don't know"), I realize that it is my own fault for having faith and getting in the car. The beginning of the trip is hopeful, as we venture off into traffic. But, as we approach the area where I am going, the driver begins to look at me periodically with a desperate plea for help, at which point I remember why I don't take cabs here. We pull over about 5 times to ask various people on the side of the road if they know the place I wish to go to and can kindly provide directions to the driver. As Indians tend not to admit that they don't know a location, we circle around for 25 minutes, until by some twist of kind fate, we are lead to the desired target or I lose my patience and ask him to take me to a nearby known landmark and walk the rest of the way. To further the fun, payment is a comical exchange, since the 1950's taxi cars have meters that are a decimal or so off. Each cab driver is supposed to have a little booklet that indicates the conversion from the ancient meter to today's currency standards. Most however assume we (the Westerners) don't know about this book. Finally, as no one ever has change in this town (stores -- including "nice" ones -- make you keep buying items until you reach the amount of your bill), there is a back and forth negotiation that always makes us giggle. In my ride yesterday to the library, the total for my hour-long taxi trip was 160 rupees (=$4 US dollars), I gave the driver a 200 bill, he gave me a 50, I gave him a 20, and he gave me a 10 to close the deal. (Tips are not expected here.)

And, of course, despite my determination to never take a taxi again, I met up with Will in the evening to take the train to the end of the line (Churchgate), and then hop once again in a taxi to the Chabad House where we picked up matzah and frozen chickens for Passover. Fortunately, we had been there before and could find the way.