The other day, I was in a hurry. I needed a taxi to give me a lift. After 5 minutes of waving down an available cab with my hand like an idiot, while watching numerous cabs passing me by, one finally pulled over. I went to the car and opened the door, tactfully asking him if he could drive me to my desired destination. The guy was very straightforward, telling me without hesitation to enter the car. So, I did.
He was around 50 years young, with a puffy face and hair matted in a way that gave the impression of negligence. It seemed like the man had no great ambitions for his physical attractiveness. If he didn’t care himself, who am I to judge his looks?
Even before my ass touched the seat, I was already caught up in his daily repertoire of thoughts, opinions, and ideas about what I should do with my life, and about what he was going to do with his own life – who cared if I wanted to listen? It quickly became apparent to me that he was a kind of a whack job – a common trait of taxi drivers in a Eastern European country like Bulgaria.