Some passengers realize they'll never seen their taxi driver again so they decide to let their secrets out during the journey to their destination.
Dealing Up A Great Fare.
“Actual cab driver (posting from my cab on a slow night, at that.) About a year and a half ago, I was driving some folks from the college town where I work to a much larger city about 40 minutes away – a surprisingly large fare. Anyway, over the course of the trip it became clear that they had come into town to deal coke at the club I picked them up at. Part of their conversation was in Spanish, so I’m not super confident, but i think they sold about half a kilo that night. They paid me from a huge roll of mostly large bills. The leader of the group as also clearly high as h*ll and started to get really freaked out and insisted that I pull off the express way to get some soda. I had an unopened Monster Energy in the cab, handed it over. Ended up making almost 100% on the tip – one of the very best runs I’ve ever done.” (Source)
By Day: Grandma, But By Night….
“We used to have this customer, super nice lady, taking care of 5 of her grand kids because her own kids are no good and she stepped in to take care of them. We took her shopping, to the bank, took the kids to school. Did all kinds of stuff for her. But when I started driving nights…Prostitute.” (Source)
Increased Volume.
“I had three girls spend the cab ride talking about the fake boobs of the middle one. Apparently the best place to get a boob job is Beverly Hills. They’re cheap there, because there’s such competition for the business, and they are very good, because they deal with a lot of volume.” (Source)
A Terrifying Twist.
“I was a dispatcher at a local cab company for a few years. We had been picking up a young woman and ferrying her from her house to her boyfriend’s for a few months. Eventually, she stopped calling. In a town with call-cabs, we always kind of take that as a sign of a break-up and gossip about it over the radios and in the office. Then a couple months later, the news hits that her boyfriend had attempted to murder her. And not just murder her- she was beaten savagely, stabbed repeatedly in her genitals, and shoved into his trunk. She survived and was rescued, but only just. The picture painted of this man was a weird one. He travelled alone a lot in Israel and Russia, immersed himself in martial arts and weapons training, and had an incredibly shallow affect. I believe they had just broken up, she started seeing someone else, and he hunted her down. We always worried about regulars after that, sometimes calling the ones who dropped off the radar. The darkly poetic element to all of this was his last name: Jaeger, which means ‘hunter’ in German.” (Source)
Honesty’s The Best Policy.
“I worked taking calls for a cab company, not as a driver but I had a fairly interesting call once. It was late at night and this girl was ordering her cab like this: so umm, oh, oooh, yeah could you… ooh… yeah I’d like a cab to… Hey! Would you mind not licking my p*ssy when I’m talking to the taxi guy? Thanks! …well sorry about that, anyway… goes on to complete the order. Maybe not much of a secret except in so far the secret of what was going on was revealed.” (Source)
Be Careful What You Say.
“Not a cab driver but I am a very white guy that due to my military time can speak a fair amount of Urdu, I got to listen to my Pakistani cab driver in Vegas answer his phone and start talking about my newly wedded wife’s tits. [When] I got my change and said ‘shukria, khuda hafiz!’ (Thank you, goodbye) and he sat there with a dumb smile for about 5 seconds then his face went blank like he had a stroke.” (Source)
An Incredulous Story.
“NYC taxi driver told me HIS deep secret one night…he’d picked me up after I’d finished working a long bar shift and had enjoyed an even longer afterparty. I don’t know if my level of drunkenness made me come across as trustingly-friendly or blackout-forgetful, but it was a long drive to where I lived in Harlem, so we started telling stories. He looked like a caricature of a Mexican guy – stocky, tan, mustachio’d, etc. We even spoke a bit in Spanish, but his accent was very unique. This was due to the fact that he’d moved to Mexico from Pakistan (his native country), and had posed as a Mexican to sneak into America via the usual over-the-border routes. He’d done this after 9/11, fearing America would bomb the h*ll out of his homeland in their search for terrorists. He had to disguise his true origins to make himself a more acceptable illegal alien, and the plan worked perfectly. His wife and daughter followed soon after. The taxi job he’d worked so hard to excel at was now supporting the family and paying his daughter’s way through college.Unfortunately, once he’d gotten to America, his old job required too many credentials to allow him to remain laying low in his new life. Back home, he’d been a biochemist.” (Source)
Hey Joe, Where You Going With That Gun In Your Hand?
“Some guy told me he was going to shoot a .44 magnum into his cheating wife’s vagina.” (Source)
Need To Confess Those Sins.
“My grandfather drove a taxi for a little while in the 1950’s (important to the story). He does an overnight shift and picks a woman up with a guy my grandfather thought was her husband, and drives them to her house. The next morning, Sunday, he picks the same woman up at her house with a different guy. They were on their way to church. He got a good tip on that one.” (Source)
You Never Know The Heathen Sitting Next To You.
“My dad picked up some sketchy looking guy who was mumbling to himself for the whole ride and took him to his destination. A couple of days later my dad gets a call from the police saying that the guy he picked up murdered someone the night that my dad picked him up. He then had to testify against him in court as a witness. I don’t know the outcome of the case though.” (Source)
Cabbie To The Rescue.
“My best friend had a pretty rough relationship with a guy who got her pregnant and ‘forced her to get an abortion.’ He was verbally abusive and always told her very nasty things, then played the ‘I love you’ card to get her to forgive him. He was on the phone with her one time when we were in a cab with another friend, and us being drunk my friend and I just started reaming her out, telling her the guy is trash, doesn’t deserve to be with him, is mentally sick, etc – and the cab driver with this big sh_t eating smile on his face started joining in telling my friend to tell the guy to screw off and to give him the phone so he could put him in his place, saying that he’d get his ‘cousins’ to ‘wreck his sh_t’ if he tries to do anything to hurt her. She ended up just hanging up and bursting into tears and when we were at our destination the cab driver spent 10 or so minutes speaking to her to make her stop crying. We tipped him very well.” (Source)
TMI
“Former taxi driver here. Years ago I picked up this drunk, creepy looking guy from a bar, and he sat himself right in the front seat. Then proceeded to continuously leer at my boobs in a really obvious way while telling me his mother used to breastfeed him until he was 17 years old. It still creeps me out to think about it.” (Source)
Mind Blown.
“Out of college I drove cab for a summer. And one night I was driving an older couple to the airport. Turns out the wife was flying out and the husband was staying. The husband was a older gentleman in a nice suit. After he said his goodbyes he had me drive across town where we picked up a much younger man. Who I originally took to be his son. That is until they started making out in the backseat. They had me take them to a club. Gave me a nice tip. Which helped alleviate the mind f**k I got that night heh.” (Source)
Mistaken Identity.
“Don’t drive anymore, but I used to drive in Memphis. I would sit at the Peabody on Friday and Saturday evenings, usually got the elite-but-not-above-taking-a-cab folks. One evening, the parking lot was packed. I mean, the valets were so far behind, I could barely get my cab past the other cars to get in. I’m keeping an eye on the concierge at the door, so I can see when he waves me over. I’m looking, and who comes out the door but Steven Seagal. The concierge waves a town car down to the door, Seagal gets in, and it takes off. I’m kind of in awe, because that’s the second-closest I’ve been to a celebrity-type. Five minutes later, I’m contemplating leaving, when the concierge whistles and waves me down. I pull up to the curb, the concierge opens the back door, and this older-looking gentleman gets in, maybe in his 50s, wearing a duster-length wool coat, holding a handkerchief over his mouth and nose, and a Kangol hat. I figure he’s got a cold, no big deal. I ask where he wants to go. He gives me an address in a nice residential area on the other side of the city. I pull out of the parking lot, start the meter, and ask the guy how he wants to get there. He asks which way is better. I tell him going through town is cheaper, but taking the loop is faster. He tells me to use my best judgment, so I start going through town. About a third of the way there, he asks if I saw Steven Seagal earlier. I told him I had, and I wished I could have taken him. He lowers his handkerchief, and it’s Steven FREAKIN’ Segal!! Turns out, he had sent a double in the town car. We talked a little about this and that, and when I dropped him off, he handed me a hundred and told me to keep the change.” (Source)
The Dangers Of Drinking And Driving.
“A few months ago, I was called to pick up a twenty-something man at the local prison. He had been pulled over for DUI and had cooperated with the police during the sobriety tests. Unfortunately, he’d failed pretty much all of them. When the police asked that he take a blood test, he flat-out refused. This did not sit particularly well with the police, and he was arrested, taken to jail, and had his driver’s license suspended. The police needed me to take him home, which was three towns away. During the 35-mile trip, he made some phone calls, which I got to listen in on. To grandma: without a license, he could no longer afford to keep his apartment, and so would be moving back in with her. To mom: the lucrative government job offer that he’d just received had a ‘valid driver’s license required’ clause. To his friend: the only reason that he’d cooperated with the police at the start was so that they wouldn’t search his (currently impounded) car and find all of the drugs. Also got to hear (several times) that the sobriety tests weren’t fair because the line they’d asked him to walk was on a slight hill. Also, it was cold and he was shivering, which naturally affected his balance. He figured that a lawyer could get him his license back. I wished him good luck. The ‘your case doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance’ part was left unsaid. He did not leave a tip.” (Source)
