The taxiride [0]
At the NHL University, I am famous for my ‘sterke verhalen’ (strong stories). Today in Istanbul, I could use my storytelling skills to get a free ride with a taxi.
This evening, we would meet with Fiko at the trainstation near the airport. However, I couldn’t come. I had some problems with my visa (wrong dates) at the foreigners police. It would take time to solve this problem. But Fiko couldn’t await us due to circumstances. Therefore, I let Jaap Ruurd and Arne go. I would come alone later.
Around eight ‘o clock in the evening I had the problem solved. I decided to take a taxi from Sultanahmeth to Tuzla Piyade Okulu Arazisi. This is quite a short ride. I knew it wouldn’t cost more than 10 YTL. The taxi-driver was a very nice man. We had a good conversation. He even considered me as his friend. When we arrived at the trainstation I asked how much the ride was. My friend Ahmed told me that the prize was 120 YTL, but because I was his friend, I would only have to pay 100 YTL. This is around 60 euro’s, ten times more that it should cost. I trusted this man. I felt the adrenaline flowing. I wanted to kill this man. This fucking asshole was trying to delight me.
I was thinking… then I told him something like this: “Ahmed. You are an amiable driver. I think we had a really nice conversation during the ride. It pleases me. I have been through a lot throughout my life. Nowadays I am doing quite well. I decided to stay on the right path. I need these refreshing conversations we just had. However, some people sometimes give me a hard time staying on the right path. I hope you understand, my friend. So, Ahmed, I will ask you again: how much do I have to pay for the ride?”
He looked into my eyes. Then he responded uncomfortably by pardoning his calculations. “Oh sorry, sorry, I meant 10 YTL. I worked all day and I am very tired. Blablabla.”
LIAR. I know these tricks, I read about them. Sultanahmeht’s taxi-drivers are famous for fraud. My human-knowledge confirmed the presupposition that this man was trying to delight me. In psychology, looking to your left means constructing thoughts. Looking to your right means remembering thoughts. He looked to his left while he was responding. So, he was making up a story.
I told him this straight in the face. I dared, because I felt to be in a more powerful position.
As I opened the door I said: I do not pay for anyone that tries to fuck with me, only girls may do so. Then I walked away.
This taxi-driver did better put a secure window between the front and back-seats, and let the passenger sit behind that window so that the taxi-drivers like Ahmed are safe from people like me.
Then I took the boat to Hasydarpasa and the bus to Pinar (my dostum).
Note: This is a story from the Strong Story Series. These stories are fictional. I base them on events I experienced. Strong stories are recognizable by a [X] after the title, where X represents the number of previously written Strong Stories. This note will not be present in the next Strong Stories. So if people don't read this note or forget it, they will get fooled. And I will laugh my ass off when they start talking with me about what they've read.
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