Cabby Advice

The Secret to Life

2007-11-15T01:23:00.000-08:00

"Hi. Good Evening. Where to?"

"Bukit Panjang please."

"Sure man," he said, as I noticed the flyer in the back of his cab that mentioned something about the cab being environmentally friendly."

"What's this all about?" I asked.

"Oh that! Funny you should ask. Ha ha ha! Its a new scheme. Nobody wanted to be part of it. So do you know what they did? They forced those drivers who's license is due for renewal to take part. Haha. So I knew what they were going to tell me when they called me to the office that day. Its a new natural gas powered taxi. Anyway. Do you know there's only one filling up station in this country?"

Shocked at the silliness of it. I laughed.

"Then, hear this. The Japanese engineer told me, through his translator, that the gas can last for 80km before a refill. Not too good, but its just a pilot scheme." Then the driver started to chuckle. "Guess what?" he said, "The gas only lasts for about 40km. So I went back to the filling station to tell the Engineer his calculation is wrong. He never accounted for all the stopping and braking and so on. His translator didn't dare to tell him. Ha ha! Anyway, the taxi is much nicer to drive."

"The clutch is easier because it's not diesel right?" I asked.

"Yes. Yes. Correct. Now my job is nice and easy. The secret of life is to enjoy your job and love your family."

Now thats some advice that I shall be heeding from this cool taxi driver.

No Change?

2007-11-13T01:21:00.000-08:00

As a general rule tipping is not really common in this country because:

1. The 10% service charge is usually included in the bill.

2. The service is usually crap.

Taxis are not really much different.
Taxi service is GREAT in other countries unlike in this country.

Now there's one trick that passengers have to watch out for whenever embarking on a taxi ride in here. That is the trick of pretending to not have any change, or take his own sweet time to search for change in his ten thousand pocket waistcoat.

Big lies. I feel so embarrassed for the taxi drivers when they do that. Do they think people are dumb enough to fall for it? I was doing that trick when I was 18 and delivering pizzas. Argh!

During the time of SARS I usually tipped the taxi driver, since their business was not doing so good during those days. Nowadays they seem to have forgotten all about that and have gone back to selectively picking their passengers and treating them like an imbecile.

Perhaps economic downturns are good for teaching and stressing the importance of good customer service the hard way?

Geylang Taxi Driver

2007-10-07T01:27:00.000-07:00

"So you have girlfriend? Chinese girl? Nice?"

"Yes. Yes"

"Wah Looocal ah?"

"Yes. Local."

"You marry or not?"

"Almost. Almost."

"So before u marry ah. You ever visit Geylang?" (not sure if he understood or even listened to the last thing I said)

"Well I stayed in a hotel there once."

"Ahhhhh. Gooood gooood." he said.

"I tell you; wife is nice. She can stay home and look after the kids. You know what I mean? Heh heh? When you want something really dirty you go see prostitute." he bursted whilst almost jumping out of his seat.

"Yeah?" I asked lamely. That didn't cut the conversation short. It spurred him on even further.

"I telllll you ahh," with his eyes glistening in the rear view mirror in my direction; he almost crashed into the central reservation.

"Yeah?"

"Your wife ah. She nice. She look after the kids. But if you ask for blowjob you get slap. That why you need prostitute. They good and you knooooow whyyyy they are good? Because they TRAINED. Yeah! I tell u ah. They KNOW how to please a man."

There were many other things mentioned by the driver but I've omitted them for the sake of modesty. Thank god the taxi ride finally came to a conclusion.

The caucasian male paid the man and got out. Walking back to his house he felt disgusted at the taxi driver for sharing his experience and life philosophy. Blah!

Secret Durian Place

2007-09-14T01:51:00.000-07:00

"I tell you ah. Many year ago. Me an my fren ah. We all go down there and take the durian. Wah the durian ah. So nice. I tell you one. Not like you get in shop. Sooo juicy. Wah so good," gushed the words from his swiftly energised mouth.

"But where???" I quizzed, "Is it still there or what?"

"Of course lah! I go only last month. Got one THIS big. My whole family eat lah,"

"Isn’t that illegal or something?"

"Of course lah. But only if you get caught," he smiled with pride. "So far I never get caught."

"Don’t durian sellers just go and pick free durians from there and sell them in the streets of Geylang?"

"Mayyybe lah. But enough for everyone. So okay lah."

"But where anyway? I still don't understand where they are," I prompted.

"Near the highway lah. You know the park there? There's a forest behind. Wah the durian ah. So good," he almost slobbered onto the dashboard.

Coming off the highway I gazed into the wilderness of trees searching for random durian poachers hanging out of them. Nothing there. Maybe I will see them one day and maybe I wont. One thing for sure is that I wont be purposely going looking for smelly durians. I shall leave that to the durian lovers out there.

Worst Taxi Driver Ever

2007-09-01T01:28:00.000-07:00

Ok. It is rant time. RRRRRRRANT!

Just the other night I was trying to flag a taxi down. This damn chi ko pek taxi driver drove past me not once, but thrice! Perhaps I wasn't a nice 'chio' girly but a smelly ang moh so he didn't want to pick me up :(. In the end he drove off and I ended up taking some other taxi.

Mount Faber

2007-08-19T01:19:00.000-07:00

Three locals. Two foreigners. Together, we got inside a taxi.

"No way," he said, "If I get caught. I'll lose my license for sure. There's no way I'm risking having four people on the back seat."

Stupidly, idiotically and bimbotically, myself and the other foreigner decided to get out and get in another taxi together. We flagged another one down in only a matter of seconds.

"Take us to Mount Faber please"

"Where?"

"Mount Faber?"

"Where's that? I've never heard of it," he said. Despite Mount Faber being a popular spot amongst both locals and tourists.

"Mount Faber? Mount Fibber? Mount Faaaaaber? Mount Fobber? Mount Fubber? Mount Fabbbberrrrrr Munt Flibber?" we tried in all possible accents under the sun.

"Where? How to get there?" he asked again, seemingly oblivious to the place.

"We don't know how to get there. We're not Singaporean," my friend replied, who was already slightly agitated.

"Hey. Its next to the World Trade Centre and the cable car station," my collegue pointed out as he remembered.

"Ahh. World Trade Centre," he agreed, and we finally thought we were getting somewhere.

Within five minutes the taxi driver had taken us to the World Trade Centre.

"Ok. Now Mount Faber"

Then the taxi driver got angry. "Why you tell me World Trade Centre if you don't wanna go World Trade Centre? You ask for World Trade Centre and now we here."

"Just look around this area" my collegue insisted. After scouring up and down the road a while, we finally saw a glimmer of hope when there was a sign for 'Mount Faber' which lead to a long winding hill.

"Oh. Mount Faber," he said casually, and drove us up the hill to the pub at the top which was heaving with people from all over. My friend and I foaming at the mouths and ready to strangle him to death. Even though taxi drivers are generally not tipped in Singapore, I did have a few verbal tips of my own to give him.

Cabby Pileup

2007-08-14T01:51:00.000-07:00

I saw a big pile up today on the highway this morning. Lo and behold, the cause of it was three taxis.

For those that aren't familiar with Singapore's taxi drivers, this is nothing new. It seems that taxis are the cause of almost every highway accident here. Or could it just be that there's so many of them on the highway, that the odds are against them?

I put it down to the standard 'one millimetre gap' that they always leave between themselves and the car in front. I really wish they wouldn't do that.

Pity I couldn't get a picture. Time for a new phone that doesn't make a ridiculously loud noise when it snaps a picture.

Mastercard

2007-08-12T01:29:00.000-07:00

"Hey, can I pay you by mastercard? Cos I want to try and win the diamond," I asked, whilst pointing to the mastercard advert. It instantly struck a chord with him.

"This one ah! No way you can win. Its just a bullshit lah!" he exclaimed.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Have you actually ever heard of somebody winning it? Nooooo right? That’s why I tell you. Buuuullshit lah,"

"But I want to win the diamond," I insisted. "Surely SOMEONE has to win?"

"Listen. Did you ever seeee anyone win a diamond yet? I TELL you. You never see people got win one."

"But," I whimpered. There was no doubting it. I was defeated.

"Tell you ah. Last time. The car prize. Do you see anyone driving it? No lah. Another bullshit! Then everyday everyone want to pay mastercard. Wah lau these guys ah. Heh heh heh."

"My word!" I gasped in my pseudo-Brit-American-Singlish-Neutralised accent.

"God for my business though! [cackle] More and more people want to take a taxi and win. [more sinister cackles]."

It was time to leave before the conspiracy got deeper. He scanned my card and, for once, it all went without a glitch. Arriving home I pondered deep in thought about why don't I just queue up at the ATM for half an hour so that I can pay for taxis with cash? Er, maybe its because I'm a foreigner and after four years I still haven’t gotten any money changed.

Thanks

2007-07-14T01:52:00.000-07:00

At the end of a taxi journey last night...

I paid the driver and said "thank you." Here's what happened next:

"Thank you. Good night!" he wished me.

"Thanks. Just give me a moment," I said as I took off my seatbelt tried to collect my bags.

"Thank you. Thank you. Good night!" he repeated again.

"Just a moment..." I said. Still struggling.

"Thank you. Thank you. Good night!" came the response, again.

"Just picking up my bags. Won't be a second."

"Thank you. Thank you. Good night!" he bleeped, in what was becoming monotonous and clinical.

Good grief.

"OK. Got them. Thanks. Good night."

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Good night!!!"

"Thanks," I repeated it myself as I opened the door, but it had to come again didn't it...

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Good night!!!"

GO Higharrr!

2007-07-02T01:19:00.000-07:00

"Bukit Panjang Please."

"Pasir Panjang ah?"

"No no. BUKIT Panjang."

"Then why don't you say in the first place lah?"

I've no idea why my pronunciation of 'bukit' is anywhere near 'pasir' but what I do know is that I've received some invaluable information from some taxi drivers in Singapore. Mr 'Go Highaaar' is one of the best career coaches I have ever come across.

"Wah. Work so late ah? Which company you work?" he asked.

"Its a small software company. We make accounting software," I told him.

"How much your pay?"

"What?!" I replied, a bit startled from his subtlety. "The pay isn't too good. Well, not for working these crazy hours anyway, but I'm just gaining experience right now," I replied.

"What degree you have?"

"IT," I replied.

"You got honours or no?" was the next big question.

"Yes. My degree is an honours degree,"

"You got Masters or no?"

"No masters. Sorry"

"I think for you. You can do masters. Go higharrr. Goo highaaarrr! Don't let people trod on you. You trod on them instead. I never do degree now I'm driving taxi. No good. Then the taxi company trod on me."

"Oh thanks mate"

"PHd. Hmmm. I think maybe you cannot make it. But you go try anyway."

"Er. Oh thanks again mate"

"Go higharrr. Go higharr. Don't let the taxi company bully and trod on you," he repeated continuously while bouncing up and down on his seat in an uncontrollable fit of frenzy.

Thankfully the conversation ended there and he sat mumbling to himself, for the rest of the journey, about the taxi company in a mix of unintelligible English and even more unintelligible hokkien dialect.

"$10.55," He snapped. "GO HIGHARRR!! Good night ah!"

"Good night. Thankyou."

I spent the rest of the night wide awake browsing postgraduate courses. The moral of this story is to get as high a degree as possible. Then you can guarantee that you will never cause a taxi driver to have a fit.

Vroom!

2007-06-28T01:18:00.000-07:00

Vroom! A young man in his twenties zoomed past the taxi and undertook him before repeating the same daring feat between a motorbike and a pick up truck.

"Young idiots" I commented to the taxi driver. This was my attempt to spark an interesting coversation. "I can't believe these young guys spend so much money on a car and drive so recklessly," I said, and this was the taxi driver's perfect opportunity to boast about his financial expertise.

"Not like us," he slowly commented/chanted/sinisterly cackled even. "We know that you've gotta save your money and buy a house first," which I nodded and also verbally shown my agreement, but the pandora's box had been opened and I was now in full scale interaction with this particular taxi driver and I had no escape.

"We need a five year plan. I've always insisted on having a five and ten year financial plan," he beamed back in his rear view mirror.

Now I was sure I only just read that in the newspaper that very morning, but this taxi driver sure had a lot to say and he surely assumed that only he had read the newspaper that day. I listened uncomfortably anyway.

"I TELL you ah. You can't speculate liquid assets on liabilities in this uncertain economical climate. Must save mannie for children's education," he advised. "I've always believed in this," he reinstated with zeal and pride. All of which I could have sworn was repeated word for word out of the day's newspaper.

After the usual 'go straight, turn left, stop here please. HERE! NOW STOP! NOW! HERE!' routine at my place, I exited the taxi an enlightened man with a sinister looking taxi driver, still smiling at me, with his head almost popping through the glass window. Tomorrow would be his day to advise people on how to plan a perfect marriage and arrange a foreign maid to look after your kids.

So now you know where you can go for some good financial planning advice. Make sure you take the taxi on the right day, probe the driver towards the subject and most of all beware any sinister cackles.

Back Seat Shriek

2007-06-19T01:31:00.000-07:00

So I got into this taxi one night and had a peaceful journey the whole way home.

Just when I was getting my wallet out to pay maanie, there came a sudden twist in the tale.

From out of nowhere. A pair of black knickers materialised right next to me. I picked them up and asked my girlfriend if they belonged to her or something and if they had fallen out of her bag.

"Put 'em down!" she shrieked.

"Why? Aren't they yours?" I asked.

"No! They were here all along. Lets go."

Suddenly, I then realised that the knickers were attached to a pair of tights/pantyhose on the back seat. I almost jumped through the roof James Bond ejector seat style.

My girlfriend had been trying to ignore their presence all along.

Then what came next was the best part. The taxi driver started to get really flustered and took it upon him to explain their magical appearance to me.

"Er oo er. The last lady ah. She er. Was errr drunk. Yeah drunk," he said.

"Uh huh."

"Yeah. Wah lau. These lady ah. She say she was hot and took off her panty. Ha ha ha ha! [insert deranged taxi driver evil laugh here] These drunk lady they do anything. Just leave them there. Heh heh heh hooo haa haa haa [cackle]."

I wished him goodnight and left him fumbling over the back seat for his treasure.

Robot!

2007-05-04T01:16:00.000-07:00

"Hello do you need a taxi now?" asked a polite but robotic girl on the other side. My initial thoughts were that I actually needed a taxi thirty minutes ago and is it not bloody obvious that I pressed '1' to get a cab now?

"Yes. Now please." I asked through my gritted teeth.
"Certainly sir. What's your name sir?" she asked.
"Mark," I replied.
"Ok. Mr. Mark,"
"Actually. Its Mr Ashworth. My first name is Mark,"
A short silence followed from the confused hotline assistant, which was eventually broken by the sound of sawdust falling onto a workbench in a nearby factory in Johor Bahru.

"What is your pickup location?" she bleated, as I contemplated whether I had engaged in a more intelligible conversation with the automated machine when I first dialled.

"Bukit Panjang," I said in my most neutralised accent.
"And where are you going to?" she asked.
"Tanjong Pagar," I replied digitally.
"Please hold for taxi number," was the next line that she bleated. Then that was it. The conversation had cut off and I was now listening to a third machine telling me to wait five minutes for the arrival of my taxi.

"Many thanks." I politely told it, "and I wish you a jolly good day Mr Machine."

Kidney Shocker

2007-04-17T01:10:00.000-07:00

Here's a classic taxi-man tale about why you should not go and see a doctor. Even if you're dying. Unless you are from out of town.

After a long day's work and overtime, I finally flagged down a taxi in Queenstown at eleven o'clock at night.

"Where to ah? ah?" asked the taxi driver whilst bobbing up and down on his seat and frantically looking in the mirror to inspect his foreign passenger.
"Bukit Panjang"
"Ah. Buuu-kit Panjang ah? OK. We go PIE, BKE" he said

Now. I cannot stand awkward silence when in taxi. So I tried to break into some conversation.

"So. Busy night?" was my feeble attempt. Which suprisingly seemed to arouse him and spark his engine.
"Busy ah! I tell u ah. In Singapore. You gotta work work work. Else no mannie. Ah ah!" he looked in the mirror at me, eagerly seeking my nod of approval.
"Its the same everywhere isn't it?" I asked.
"Where you from ah?"
"England. Manchester."
"Ah. You see ah. In England, if no work then your government will PAY you to stay at home. Ah! Ah? Even you go hospital, go doctor. Then free."
"Yeah. Its free alright. But its hardly up to any standard." I replied.
"Ah. But you go doctor in Singapore. Then they take your kidney out."
"What!?" I replied in a shocked state of manner.
"I tell you ah. Singaporeans never go doctor if they fall sick."
"What? Why?"
"Singaporeans only though. They never touch foreigners. So that way nobody can know. Because you England ah. If our government take your kidney, then your government will be unhappy and come after us. So foreigners safe. Except 'Michael Faye.' " (I'll skip the Michael Faye issue until later blogs)

I was totally shocked at this and could not begin to understand how, in a country of first rate healthcare, the hospitals would have a racket on people's kidneys.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "Come on. Thats not believable"
"I tell you ah ah. My wife's friend. She went into the doctor clinic with flu. She's sixty five already. They put her in hospital. Then when she went home she realised that she had no kidney."
"You're joking!" I exclaimed
"No lah. I tell you ah. This one is real. You watch ah. NUH. that's where they get their money for all their equipment. Ah! ah! Else how can they afford such good equipment? ah? ah?"

Fortunately at this point we were nearing my house. I directed him to my street and stopped a few blocks before my real apartment in the fear that he might come knocking at my house one day. I paid the lunatic and got out of the taxi.

Safe in the knowledge that my kidneys were safe for now. What a relief.

Condo Guy

2007-03-07T01:34:00.000-08:00

So I get into a taxi one night for a journey to Aljunied. I was going to one of those industrial-park type buildings around there. Not a condominium in sight and no reason for one to be there either.

After the waft of durians choked the taxi's air-conditioning system and we passed by several shady hotels, (one of which being a neon-light clad pink building entitled 'Comfort Hotel' ... say no more), here's how my journey concluded:

"So just stop on the left here please," I asked kindly.

"Ah. This condo here ah?" he replied routinely whilst pointing to the blocks of industrial-type buildings.

"Er... Yeah... Er... HUH?" I gasped.

"This condo on the left ah?" he repeated again. In a more assertive manner this time.

Confused and flabbergasted I decided to go along with the routine and carry on without any big confusion.

"Ermmmmm. ..... Yes.... Errrm. Ok." I said. Afterwhich, I paid the fruit-loop of a man and got out.

Perhaps he proceeded to pick up his next ang moh at the Comfort Hotel.

Immigrant Prison

2007-02-09T01:40:00.000-08:00

"How long you stay in Singapore?"

"Almost three years now," I replied.

Then he just had to ask the dreaded question...

"So you PR or not?" [damn youuuu for asking this!]

"Nope," I grunted.

"You apply oreddi?"

"Only four times now!"

"You success or not?"

"Nope.. They never want to approve it. They never give a reason."

"Wah lau. Ha ha ha ha! ....... Ha ha ha ha ha! ....... Ha ha ha!"

"Stop it now. Please," I begged.

"Ha ha ha ha!" he continued. It had tickled him immensely.

"Its not that funny."

"Ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha!"

Tears began to swell in my eyes. That was it. Time to defend myself...

"Actually the last rejection letter said that if I apply in one more year's time I'll have a good chance of being approved."

This at least seemed to sober him up a bit.

"Actually I don't see why they don't approve you ah. Since you here for so long already," he consoled me.

"I guess they just really want to test me. Most ang moh just bugger off home after a few years here anyway. So no there's point in granting PR for them."

"Ahh I see. So tough ah? So where you go apply ah?"

"Lavender there. The 'ICA' building. You know? The one that used to be 'SIR' but they changed the name of it."

"Ahhhhhhh. That place ahh. I TELL you ah," [This is always the start of an ammmmazing taxi story. Stories with mysteries that are only exceeded by their dubiousness]

"Yeah?"

"I TELL you ah. You know what is underneath that place?" he asked in a sinisterly but coy manner.

"No idea. Tell me."

"I TELL you. Do you ever see any immigration offender in Singapore?"

"Nope."

"I TELL you. Underneath ICA building. Is a prison," he whispered whilst scoping the road for any other traffic.

"WHAT?!"

"A prison lah! Jail! Gaol!"

"You're joking right?"

"No lah. I tell you ah. Underneath the ICA. Its where they keep all the immigration offenders. Do you ever see them in the normal prison?"

"Well now you come to say it. Er... How do you know all this?" [...and wait another second. I've never actually seen the 'normal' prison for that matter]

"I tell you a secret. My friend ah. He was there for five years."

"Five years! You're not joking? Where is your friend from?"

"Ah.. This I cannot tell you lah. Else you might find out who he is." [I'm assuming he's from some obscure country that has only had one citizen to ever step foot in Singapore]

"Fair enough."

"Yeah! Now you know. Now you know! Get your PR soon then you wont be an offender."

"But I have an employment pass."

"Don't offend ah. Then you will end up in the prison underneath the ICA." [They just don't hear me do they?]

Finally and thankfully. We had reached my destination.

"Er. Can I get out now? Let me out!" I asked as I moved from a whimper, to a sob to a wail.

He let me out alright. The visions of illegal immigrants being whipped in a dungeon beneath the ICA building filled my bewlidered mind. I was tired and it was time for some Maggi Mee and some sleep. Before that however, I double checked my employment pass to check it was still in date.

Not Again

2007-02-02T02:09:00.000-08:00

Flagging down a taxi one night, I was greeted with the familiar sight of an open window and a vigilant driver hanging over the passenger seat with a face full of the question:

"Where you go ah?!"

"Bukit Panjang!" I shouted, even though I was stood next to the taxi.

To which the driver animatedly replied, "No No No No! I have an appointment! Cannot cannot!" and hastily drove away.

Two minutes later as I'm walking down the same road. What do I see? Mr taxi driver sat at the coffee shop drinking his kopi-o.

Let Me Out!

2007-01-19T01:40:00.000-08:00

"In Singapore ah. All the student they good. It THAT country where they no good. They go throw stone at the gahmen house." (all 'the government' lives in one big house?)

"Seriously?" I asked, half heartedly.

"You want to know why? You wanna know why they throw?" he beckoned.

"Well no actually but I'm sure you're going to tell me anyway." (that one is made up but I'm sure he wouldn't have heard me anyway)

"They throw the stone because they are PAID to do it!" he yelped as if he had just let me in on the biggest secret in history. "They throw the stone because they paid by the opposition party!"

I prayed that he would just keep his hands on the wheel and stop looking round at me but he continued with his wise words:

"I TELL you ah. There no need to throw the stone at gahmen. I TELL you. If they think the gahmen no good; Then why they no just go study and become the gahmen. I TELL YOU!"

"That's totally right," I acknowledged in agreement.

"They should be in the school. Learn how to become better gahamen than the one oreddi in power.

Become smarter! Only this way then can," were his words of wisdom, as he continued his taxi driver monologue. "They should be in the school studying the economics. Our prime minister he economic graduate. Economic graduate can run country and become gahmen. So you how? You graduate economic?"

"Computer science," to his dismay I replied.

"Ahh computer. I TELL you ah got good opportunity in Singapore but lot of Indian to compete."

'Oh God! Please let me out now!' I thought, and today the heavens were indeed in my favour, we were home.

Ang Mohs are Lazy?

2006-12-04T01:46:00.000-08:00

Every day, when I wanted to cross the road, I would always be greeted by an unprecedented amount of taxis slowing down. All with the misconception that I want to be picked up by them.

Why can't they just let me cross the road in peace? This makes me start to wonder what the taxi driver is actually thinking when he does this. Is it:

"Ang moh! Ang moh! I never see before. Sure must pickup one!"

"Wah got mng moh in this dodgy area. Obvious he lost an' looking to go back to Holland Village."

"All ang moh is lazy. Therefore ang moh want to take taxi to the bus stop."

"Wonder why that ang moh not in taxi! Don't worry, I'll get him."

"Ah! An ang moh. Obviously he's going to the airport. Good for me. I can earn the surcharge." (I have actually been asked if I wanted to go to the airport when I had absolutely no baggage except my laptop with me)

"Har Har Har! *cackle* A tourist I can drive around the corner for $5 because he doesn't know where he's going."

"9am. Must be time for the ang moh to go to the pub."

and best of all..

"I'm going to slow down so that I can really annoy this ang moh who wants to cross the road. Hopefully by the time I'm done cruising past there will be a second wave of traffic coming along so he'll need to wait another couple of minutes before crossing. *Wooo ha ha ha ha ha ha!*"

This happened only the other night, when I was at the central reservation of the road... and not only did one taxi slow down for me, but ANOTHER taxi who was directly behind him obviously thought that I didn't like that particular brand so I'd prefer to take his instead.

It also happens every time I step out of my block, but strangely enough, they are never around when I really need them!

Smacks

2006-11-14T01:48:00.000-08:00

"Hi!"

*silence*

"Bukit Panjang please."

*grunt*

*Taxi starts to drive*

*grunt*

...

*grunt*

...

*teeth smacking*

...

*more grunts*

...

*swerve*

...

*BEEP BEEP*

...

*teeth smacking and grunts*

...

*grunt*

...

*grunt*

...

*extra grunts*

...

*abrupt stop*

...

*points to the meter* *grunt*

"Ten forty eh?" *hands over $50 note*

*many fiddlings with a plastic bag*

"Thankyou. Good night."

*grunts*

Nothing To Say

2006-10-06T01:49:00.000-07:00

So I get into this taxi one night. The taxi drivers eyes gleamed at me through the rear view mirror.

'Where to ah?'

'Bukit Panjang,' was the familiar reply I gave.

Talk talk talk from the taxi man. Until...

'How long you stay in Singapore ah?'

'Over four years.' I answered.

** DEAD SILENCE **

I guess he didn't have any exciting things to tell me about Singapore in this case :(. I've to be less revealing in future.

After Midnight

2006-07-07T01:53:00.000-07:00

Seems like I haven't had any of those 'special' conversations with drivers these days.

I was wondering why and have put it down to the fact that I've not taken a cab after midnight for quite some time now. I also try my best to avoid that certain taxi company as much as possible.

Perhaps those night-shift drivers are the ones a few sandwiches short of a picnic? Some I've spoken to actually do that 10pm to 10am shift, followed by a couple of hours at another part time job. Not sure if the unearthly hours are enough to drive you a bit nuts eventually.

Fukouka Cabby

2006-06-05T01:54:00.000-07:00

Now, in Singapore, our friendly taxi drivers are renowned for working 14 hour shifts, seven days a week and drinking kopi-o until they jitter so much, they bounce off their seat... but their Japanese counterparts cannot be beaten!

From a guide to taking a taxi in Fukuoka:

"Notes Taxi drivers work 24 hour shifts. If your driver appears to be sleeping it is considered polite not to awaken him until you have reached your destination."

Maxicab

2006-05-27T01:55:00.000-07:00

Just the other day I booked a cab and waited nice and quietly for it. Then all of a sudden this huge six seater maxicab shows up. Of course, my first reaction was of shock:

"I never booked on of these!" I yelled.

"Get in, get in!" chirped the friendly taxi driver.

"Its the same price right!??" I quizzed, wondering if I would be charged for the premium service. They probably get asked that a lot.

"Yes yes. Get in lah, no problems" he said.

...and so I got in and I enjoyed one of the most comfortable taxi rides I've ever had, sitting next to the driver himself. There was even a TV screen in the front, showing Channel News Asia on TV mobile.

Comfort Taxis

2006-04-06T01:56:00.000-07:00

Whatever happened to Comfort's jingle that played whenever they were looking for a cab for you?

It went something like this:

"No matter where any time of the day.
We will be there to take you on your way.
Six Five Five Two, Double one, Doouuble one.
Comfort taxis. We're riding with you."

Correct me if the lyrics are a bit wrong :)

Rice Full Place

2006-03-18T01:57:00.000-08:00

These days I seem to have less and less communication difficulties with taxi drivers in Singapore. Today was an exception.

"Hi! Raffles Place Please," I greeted the driver with my (in my own opinion) neutralised English accent.

"Rice full place?" came the seemingly bemused reply from the driver.

"Raffles Place," I repeated, just in case he heard my wrongly.

"Rice full place. Where ah?" he asked again. Oh no! Were my, painstakingly acquired, Singapore communication skills starting to fail me again?

"Raffles Place. Ra-fulls-place?" I tried.

"Ya. Ya. Rice full place. Which building?" he asked with his voice slowly showing signs of impatience.

"Ocean Towers please," I asked.

"Ok lah. Rice full place, Ocean Tower."

Twenty minutes later we arrived at the right place. Phew! My accent is understandable after all.

Fish Head Curry

2006-02-08T01:58:00.000-08:00

Traveling home late can always have its advantages. A conversation of unsurpassable wisdom is always on the cards when you get a driver who's stacked up on coffee and distorted logic.

SO I get in the cab and this is how it begins:

Driver: "Ah!" [classical!]

Me, startled: "...Hi"

Driver: "Where you go ah?"

Me, innocently: "Bukit Panjang"

Driver: "Pasir Panjang?" [Oh for Gods sake, not again!]

Me: "B-uuu-kit Panjang"

Driver: "B u k i t P a n j a n g?"

Me: "Yep. PIE, BKE" [Yes! I have finally mastered the acronyms! ... in the correct order no doubt]

After a few minutes of constantly staring at me in his rear view mirror,

Driver: "Where you from?"

Me: "England."

Driver: "WAH!"

A few seconds of ecstatic silence.

Driver: "Loooondon ah. SOOO expensive!"

Me: "Yeah tell me about it. The taxis there can easily go over 10 pounds for just a couple of minutes of being stuck in a traffic jam."

Driver: "Wah. Ten dollar? So expensive."

Me: "No. Ten POUNDS... thirty dollars"

Driver nearly crashes into the bus stop.

Driver: "Waaaaah!"

Me: "Yeah. London is an expensive place."

Driver: "Wah I go there ah I make loads of money"

Me: "Probably, but you've gotta pass 'the knowledge' test. You've gotta know every single part of London like the back of your hand."

Driver: "Neber-mine. I go there open restaurant."

Me: "Yeah?"

Driver: "I go London open restaurant. Sell fish head curry. Make lots of money."

Me: "FISH HEAD CURRY??? I don't think people in London will..."

Driver, interrupting me: "Fish head curry! Singapore most famous dish. I tell you. Go London. Open restaurant. Fish head curry. Singapore most famous."

Me: "Well I guess you can try..."

Driver, interrupting again: "I tell you. Sell how much? Five pound? Ten pound? Make load of money. Fish head curry."

The fish head curry thing went on for the next ten minutes until we got off the highway.

Driver: "Wah. You live here ah. How much you buy your house?"

Me: "It's rented. I'm moving out next year."

Driver: "Wah. I tell you ah. House soooooooo expensive these days. My house over 300k. Lousy house."

Thankfully we were almost home.

Me: "It's that condo over there."

Shit!

Driver: "WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWAHHHHHHH! COOOOOON-DOOO AHHHH. You so rich?"

Me, agitated: "The unit is worth 350k. You just told me your house is over 300k. There's no difference really is there?"

Driver: "Wah so cheep! Condo ah. You." [still no idea what this means]

Me: "Okay. Just stop here. Its fine."

Driver: "Okay ah you. Fifteen dollar."

Me: "Cheers thanks bye..."

Signs Of A Great Journey

2006-01-28T02:02:00.000-08:00

Great Signs That Your Taxi Journey will be Interesting

- Driver repeats your destination v e r y s l o w l y with a deep level of uncertainty.

- Driver doesn't want to take you home. He wants to take you to a party in Geylang.

- You do actually live in Geylang and the driver thinks the party is at your place.

- After a few minutes of driving, you see a sign that says 'Changi Airport 2km'

- You get in the cab and the driver says "Ah!"

- Your driver is Steve Chia, James Gomez or any other opposition party candidate.

- Your driver says, ang moh ah ah, we go Clarke Quay izzit?

- Driver has an excessively good stereo system complete with amplifier and bass tubes in the back, and blasts out Hokkien top ten hits.

- Driver greets you with "Brake no work only han-brake got work OK or not?"

- The first thing the driver says is "I tell you ah! ..."

Christmas

2005-12-24T02:02:00.000-08:00

Would we be able to enjoy Xmas without your hard work and tolerance for drunken behaviour? No we wouldn't!

Here's wishing a Merry Xmas to all taxi drivers out there. Keep it a safe one. Cheers!

Hyundai Cab

2005-11-14T02:03:00.000-08:00

I have noticed a couple of new Hyundai cabs in use by both the yellow taxi company and the blue taxi company (who are actually under the same group now)

So does that mean that Toyota have lost the deal for cabs in Singapore now? Does it mean that Hyundai can be considered robust enough to be used as cabs? Time will tell.

Cabby Passenger Rants

2005-10-14T02:04:00.000-07:00

Some people love to call for a cab during peak hours. Some people do that, I'm sure, so that they can continue to gossip with their co-workers while they leave their 'on call' taxi waiting on the street for over ten minutes so that all the other taxi-starved people can drool over it.

Call for Me

2005-08-03T02:06:00.000-07:00

Me, on entering the taxi:

"On call for Mark?"

Driver: "What?"

Me: "Mark?" *points at the console*

*driver stares at me intensely*

Me: "M...m... Mark? On call?"

"Where?"

"Mark? On call?!"

"Where??"

"Mark???"

"What?"

"Mark??? On call???"

"Ahh.. On call ah?" *finally*

...and away we went...

Kopi Appointment

2005-06-14T02:07:00.000-07:00

Excuses for Credit Cards

2005-04-12T01:21:00.000-07:00

All taxis in Singapore have two things in common.

1. They accept all major credit cards.

2. All taxi drivers are excellent at avoiding taking payment by credit card.

Here are some of the excuses I have been given when trying to pay by credit card:

Excuse #1
"The Visa machine is not working yet. They only just installed it." (uh huh)

Excuse #2
"You have to pay the surcharge when paying by credit card. Why not you just pay cash?" (because there was a big frickin queue at the ATM)

Excuse #3
The reception here is not good. (????)

Excuse #4
Driver swipes the card the wrong way. "Oh. The system must be down. Its not working." (Mark then attempts to tell the driver how swipe it but the driver's English turns off.)

Excuse #5
"I'm not trained to use this. I'm a new driver." (Tsk tsk. So many new drivers these days)

Excuse #6
Machine is turned off. "Sorry the machine down." (Grrr.)

Excuse #7
Driver scolds me. "You should have told me earlier that you were paying by card." (How about I don't pay you at all then?)

Excuse #8
Driver has run out of paper. "Sorry no paper liao." (You lying git. I reckon you've got it all stashed in your glove compartment.)

Excuse #9
"I've already put it through as cash." (You can still do the transaction. I've seen it done before. Don't lie to me.)

Excuse #10
Driver keeps smacking his lips and making noises. (I'm going to carry a hand water pistol from now on and squirt people whenever they do that.)

Welcome to the Cabby Advice

2005-03-14T01:08:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my new blog. 'The Cabby Advice.'

I've been living and working in Singapore for quite a while now; and taking a taxi late at night has been pretty much a common occurrence for me.

They say that the best way to learn about what's going on in town is to talk to the taxi driver. The taxi driver knows all! This is true to a certain extent but, as I've found out, some taxi drivers give you a little more information than you really need.

This blog is a journal of my recollections of nonsense that some certain taxi drivers have told me. I hope you find it intuitive and amusing.