Confessions of a Cab Hater

I am a taxicab hater. I will walk two miles, drunk, through the ghetto at 3 AM before taking a taxi. I will wait a half an hour in the metro station for the last train before I flag down a checker. I will shamelessly accept rides home from "new friends" (e.g. total strangers met at a bar within the last 90 minutes) before even considering taking a cab in DC.

I have often pondered the psychology behind my hatred of taxicabs. Certainly, a big part of it is not wanting to get screwed. And even when the cab driver does not try to pull a fast one and overcharge, it always feels like you are getting screwed. With the current gas surcharge in effect, the least expensive cab ride in DC is $7.50. Add a tip, and round because who wants to deal with change, you're talking 9 bucks. Nine freaking dollars for a five minute cab ride? Is the taxicab commission smoking crack?

But on the other hand, one must look at the big picture. A top-shelf mixed drink plus tip at most bars is easily 8 or 9 bucks. So in the grand scheme of things, the cost of a safe, fast ride home doesn't change the cash perspective that much. If I only take a cab once or twice a week, not really a lot of money. So why, then, do I continue to hate the cabs?

My friend Sara has observed that men, in general, hate taking cabs. Perhaps much the same way as we hate asking for directions. Maybe it's a control thing, or the need to solve problems without anyone's help. There's an element of that, I am sure. And I enjoy walking around the city. I love the architecture, I love the view from the ground. I see no need to pay someone 9 or more dollars to save 20 minutes and lose that simple pleasure for a given trip.

But there are times when there's a line. I walk around at night a lot, and crime is far from rare in the U Street/Adams Morgan/Columbia Heights corridor in which I roll. Sooner or later I am sure my number will be up. I would probably be wise to give up that walk late at night, especially while compromised, for 9 bucks. But I just can't seem to do it. Maybe it's a combination of factors, but in the end, I think it's just hating that feeling of being screwed. And even when the cabbie is honest, doesn't drive you from 11th and U to 11th and Spring by way of 18th Street, and drives faster than my grandmother, you still feel like you're getting screwed.

I am a cab hater. I admit it. I do not want an intervention, and I will not be joining any 12 step programs. I accept it. Maybe, when I can take a cab 4,000 feet for less than nine dollars, that will change. But for now, I remain as I am: cab hater.