Shut Up and Drive

I have yet to come up with an answer to this conundrum Joe. As a broken Arabic expert myself, I have long found myself trying to avoid irritating conversation with taxi drivers. There is only so long you can go nodding and making humm sounds until he asks you a question needing an answer with better phonetics. If you speak Arabic, you’re usually dragged into a political conversation you’re not interested in and, if you speak English, you’re dragged into that “Where you from? England? Wayne Rooney meya meya! I speak London very best,” sort of dreary dialogue. I found out that there is no solution so I indulge in it. With a taxi driver you can be anyone you want for 10 minutes. I sometimes tell them I’m from the future and I drive a flying hantoor, or I’ll tell them that I’m Morsi’s pet groomer. Sometimes I ask them about their choice of taxi hood ornaments. It can be fun and it sure beats sitting in the back talking to people on your BBM contact list. You have your whole life to be plain Joe.