Open letter to taxi drivers



Dear Mr. Taxi Driver,

If I could just make the following requests, I think my time with you would be a lot more enjoyable.

1. Please don't talk to me. If my husband is with me, then by all means, talk to him.

2. If you must talk with me, please don't speak
Fusha.

3. Upon acknowledging my stated destination, please don't ask me which route I want you to take. You're the taxi driver: you probably know better. Just get me there.

4. If you insist upon asking me which route to take, and I pick one at random because you won't leave me alone, and then you take it, and we run into traffic, please don't blame me and make angry and frustrated comments under your breath for the remainder of the taxi ride. Trust me, I didn't sabotage you on purpose. Hanging out in an unairconditioned car with an onery stranger and a restless baby is not my idea of a good time.

5. Please, for the love of all that is good and decent, don't smoke. We've covered this one before.

6. Don't tip yourself. That's my job, and I am more likely to do it if you at least offer to give me change. But if you keep those 150 qirsh, hoping I don't notice, I'll ask for it just to teach you a lesson.

I appreciate your efforts in these areas.

Hoping to find you when I need you,

Bridget
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Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Nobody walks in Amman