London Cab Story

This story comes from a reader of the dailyint blog:

“Had a late dinner with my boss and his wife near Leicester Square. Stopped in a nightclub for a nightcap since it was nighttime. The nightcap lasted about four hours. Perfect.

“When the club shut down at 3:30 AM, I hailed a cab for my airport hotel. Perfect London black cab. The back seat somehow seemed larger than my hotel room. Felt a bit lonely, too, just like my hotel room. “Just me to the airport hotel, please.”

“Made it about 30 meters or so.

“I’ve never hit a deer, or a cow, or anything while driving or riding in a car. So when the bicyclist rolled over the hood (bonnet), I didn’t know what had happened. Sounded like a sack of potatoes being dropped.

“I had not yet spent enough time in London to know what the term “wanker” meant. The driver and cyclist kept throwing “wanker” and punches at each other just in front of the bonnet.

“Realize, of course, the nightclub had just emptied out. Dozens or hundreds of happy drunk folks out on the sidewalks and streets. The wanker fight drew a big crowd.

“It was tough to tell whom they were cheering for. I’m not sure they knew either. They were mostly cheering for the entertainment to continue. To add to the fun, some of the crowd started rocking my cab side to side. I was still in the backseat, by myself, with a great seat for the fight. As long as I kept a hand stretched to each window, I could stay upright and watch the fight while the cab rocked around.

“Fight was thrilling, but did not go 12 rounds. It may not have even lasted the regulation three minutes to make one full round.

“Finally, someone yelled “wanker” louder than the other, and therefore won the fight. Not sure but I think my driver won. The cyclist picked up his bicycle, which was totally mangled, and dragged it to the curb.

“The driver had a few more words with the drunken crowd, and climbed back in the cab.

“Which hotel, sir?”



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