Why Taxicabs, Horns and Hangovers Don't Mix

It's been a while since I had a good reason to hate on DC cabs. Since the meter transition, which still remains the only good thing that Fenty's done since he took office, I've actually had some decent cab experiences.

This morning at 7:30 AM, though, cab hating found a new raison d'etre.

As I was fumbling with Sully's leash in preparation for his morning walk, slightly groggy from too much wine, the icy tranquility was broken by a honking horn. Over. And. Over.

The culprit was a Diamond cab a couple doors down, doing his best to ensure that everyone made it to work on time. Or, for those who perhaps work nights, or are staying home taking care of children, or for any other reason might prefer a morning without a blaring horn, ensuring they were pissed off.

I walked over to his car and knocked on the window.

Me: Excuse me, would you mind not honking your horn? It is very early, and some people may be trying to sleep.

Cabbie: (sputtering already) Your dog isn't asleep.

Yes. Really.

Me: Umm, I am pretty sure that people other than my dog live on this street.

Cabbie: Well why wouldn't they be awake like you are?

Me: I'm sure they are now. Did it occur to you that not everyone gets up at the same time? Have you ever worked nights before? Possibly wanted to sleep at 7:30 AM?

Cabbie: Well yes but I'm picking someone up.

Me: I realize that. Why can't you just call them?

Cabbie: I don't have a phone.

Apparently, in my morning fog, I did not realize what absolute bullshit this is. A cabbie without a phone? I don't think I've even been in a cab where there wasn't one glued to the driver's head.

Me: Then why don't you just knock on their door?

Cab: I can't do that. I can't get out of my car, it's dangerous.

I am still struggling, apparently, because I couldn't think of any good response to such idiocy.

Me: Look, I don't really care. Honking your horn is illegal in DC except in an emergency.

At this point, a debate over the legality of honking your horn ensued. At first he simply denied this fact. Then he said it was, in fact, an emergency. I tried to explain that "being too lazy to use your phone or get out of your car" did not constitute an emergency.

Things broke down quickly. Reason had no place in the life of this cab driver. Logic was something from a fairy tale, no more real than magic beans or leprechauns. Had I been more coherent, I might have asked him questions such as:

• If the person you are picking up called your cab company, then why can't you call them?


• Every time I have ordered a cab, they call me when the cab has arrived anyway. What makes today different?


• If you think that the person you are waiting for can hear you honking, then why do you need to do it more than once?


• If you think that they have not heard you, then why do you think that honking repeatedly will change that?


• Why do you think that conducting your routine business constitutes an "emergency" on the order of a fire, or perhaps, avoiding an accident?
  

I soon realized there was no point in continuing the discussion. I told the cab that while it was interesting and quaint that a professional driver would not understand one of the basic laws of driving in DC, perhaps if a police officer explained it to him, it would make more sense.

At this point I went into my house to get my cell phone and call the cops. No, this was not exactly a crisis. But nothing pisses me off more than a car honking in the dawn hours.

Unfortunately, several mistakes prevented me from exacting sweet revenge upon this callous cabbie.

I could not find my cell phone.

My fiancee's cell phone was dead, or I couldn't figure out how to turn it on. Either is possible.

I failed to make a note of his cab number or license plate.

I totally choked.

At the end of the day, I wanted a piece of flesh. I singled out this guy for a crime that many people commit daily on my street. Perhaps because he was an easy target, perhaps because he didn't live on my block and I wouldn't be risking a neighbor vendetta over the confrontation.

In the end I got nothing. If I had actually called the cops, he surely would have been gone by the time they arrived. If they arrived. The 911 operator would probably have laughed me off the phone anyway.

So I was saved from escalating this situation to police involvement by my inability to find a functioning cell phone. Though I felt a little deflated, empty, like the cowboy who shows up at the OK Corrall only to realize he got the day wrong, it's just as well. There was really no good that would have come from seeing this battle through to its inevitably awkward conclusion.

But I bet this one cabbie will at least think twice before honking his horn at 7:30 AM on a quiet street. He will always remember me, that fanatical, wild-eyed guy with the evil terrier that wakes up early. He will think of me as he reaches for his horn and wonder, will this time be the one that puts someone over the edge? Is it worth the risk?

Maybe, just maybe, he'll reach for his phone or get out of the car instead.