If you believe Darwin’s Theory of Evolution, there is a new subspecies of hominoid roaming the face of the earth. It has the same bone structure as a homo sapien, but that is where the similarities seem to end. It has the temper of Godzilla, the craftiness of a fox, the reflexes of a Jedi, the lungs of an industrial revolution steam engine and the vocabulary of a faulty first-generation Speak & Spell machine. Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce you to… the taxi driver from China.
I arrived at Chengdu Railway Station on a dark, rainy summer evening, exhausted after a two-and-a-half-hour train ride and a long day of meetings in the neighbouring city of Chongqing. My colleagues and I had been seated in the last carriage and it was a long walk to the station exit. All I was looking forward to was a hot shower and an early night’s rest, and I couldn’t wait to get to our hotel. We jostled with our luggage and the crowd of people heading out, and found our way to the back of a snaking taxi queue. Distant flashes of lightning and the dark clouds in the sky warned of an impending storm headed our way, but thankfully, the queue seemed to be moving fairly quickly, superbly marshalled by a tall policeman who kept barking orders and blowing his whistle every five seconds.
Our ears were ringing from all that whistling by the time we reached the front of the queue, but at least I was closer to getting my much-needed shower. Gratefully, we hopped into our cab when our turn came, but I instantly felt my eyes tear up and I began to have difficulty breathing. The taxi reeked of cheap cigarettes and the driver was still holding a stub between his fingers. He took one last big puff and flicked the butt out of the window before looking at the hotel address that my colleague had scribbled on a piece of paper. He mumbled something in a low voice, engaged the gear stick and set off like a rampaging bull released for the San Fermin festival in Pamplona, Spain. He barely avoided contact with a pedestrian wheeling a trolley bag across what seemed like a zebra crossing, and then came to a screeching halt at a red light… a mere 50 metres away from where our journey had begun.
As the light turned green, the taxi lurched forward and the driver started weaving in and out of traffic as if the steering wheel was the game controller of an Xbox 360. I reached for my seatbelt and found none, and prayed that my plus-sized colleague seated next to me would provide some additional stability for the car, and cushion me like an airbag from any sideways impact in case of a collision. There was a beeping sound from the dashboard the minute we boarded the taxi, but it didn’t seem to bother the driver one bit. I checked my door twice just to make sure I wasn’t about to be flung out and steamrolled into part of the road surface, but thankfully, it was properly shut. I pressed the knob for the car lock just to be sure.
As we approached a junction, all of us lurched forward again as the driver came to a screeching halt behind a car about to make a left turn. The green arrow had just lit up and without giving the car before him any time to move off, he slammed his hand on the horn and spouted a fountain of vulgarities at the driver’s many generations of ancestors. Several spirits were rudely awoken from their slumber that night!
He continued the verbal tirade as we sped past the car after the turn, but had to abandon an attempt to beat a red light as a car had already started moving across his path from the right, sending us smashing into the back of the front seats again. Out came another cascade of profanities about fresh-water turtle eggs and illegitimate offspring, and by this time, I could have sworn my command of the Chinese language had improved significantly — which, on hindsight, could have been handy had the meetings the next day turned sour. I was also on the lookout for any traffic policemen so as to report the driver for exceeding the per hour vulgarity limit. Unfortunately, there were none in sight.
After the next junction, we turned into a street and got stuck behind a van and a pickup driving side by side. Instead of waiting for either to give way, the driver cut across the central road divider, sped past the van and then cut back in, just as I spotted the oncoming headlights of a bus bearing down on us.
All this time, the beeping from the dashboard continued incessantly. Finally, after briefly turning to look behind us, I realised it was the warning that the car boot had not been closed properly. I tried not to imagine my clean underwear being flung onto the road and me having to risk life and limb to retrieve them, but between those thoughts and the flashing of my life before me, personal hygiene took a backseat.
Finally, after 20 minutes of anxiety attacks and breath deprivation, Chinese vocabulary lessons and roller coaster rides, we reached the entrance of the hotel — but not before almost mowing down a road sweeper.
I staggered out of the taxi, tempted to kneel and kiss the ground before me. In fact, I wanted to find the nearest church to give thanks to God for being alive… but that probably required another taxi ride!