Almost fighting a cabbie and being scared

Almost fighting a cabbie and being scared

One thing I’ve never done in my life is engage in a physical fight. But just as Steph and I were about to get on an airport shuttle, I was close to getting into it with a Parisian cabbie who jacked 3.40 Euros from me (yo, I’m cheap, 3.40 euros is like over $5 bucks). And let me tell you, I was scared. This is how it went down, the cab fare to the Opera was 16.60 Euros and I just thought, “Hey, I can just give him a 20 and get change…” Instead, the dirty motherfucker gave me back 0.80 euros. Like… WTF dude? Give me my damn money back. This is France and your lazy fucking ass took the long way to Opera, so you don’t deserve a tip.” So the thief is about to drive off and I slap his passenger side window and yelled ‘fuck’. He gets out.

The second he stopped his car, I looked around me to see how much space I’ve got. Even though I’ve never fought, I theoretically have two rules for fighting, and I’ll share them with everyone because through countless times of thinking about it, I have two great rules. Rule Number One, if you can, run the fuck away from any fight. I have thunder thighs and I sprint pretty well. If you can avoid a fight by running away like a coward, I suggest you do it. There’s no shame in running away. I have a busted area on my lip from getting a shoulder from a 6’4 dude in basketball, and that was just basketball. I can’t imagine getting punched in the face. I’m fragile.

Rule number two, if you have to fight, fight as dirty as you can. Hard punches or kicks to the groin hurts male and females, although I think more debilitating towards males. Eyes and throat are also good targets. Basically if I ever have to fight, it’s not fight to win… it’s fight to be able to execute Rule Number One. This taxi dude, and I’m just gonna say it, was black and taller than me, but barely medium built so not too scary. He only spoke French, supposedly. I speak zero French. So he’s approaching me and I’m just trying to back up. Mean while, I’m staring at his shoulders to look for sudden movements to see if my cowardly ass has to duck or back up, or if I react fast enough, sock him in the face. But here’s the problem.

The second he stands in front of me, I’m faced with this thought… “I really hope he doesn’t punch me.” And, “I cannot get arrested for assault in a foreign country.” I have enough where withall to look around me as I’m trying to back away from the big black man (yes that sounds racist but oh well, he was taller than me and black). I mean, I’m scared. I thought we’re even. He stole from me and I slapped his car and no damage was done. If anything, he won in this transaction. But he keeps yammering on in French and I’m just thinking, “This guy doesn’t want to fight.” This thought actually clicked on like a lightbulb. Steph was ready to take off and I just grabbed my suit case and we crossed the street to leave the thief.

Lessons learned: Parisian taxis are not as advanced as NYC taxis, in that not all take credit card. We also got one taxi that was shitty and said there’s a minimum of 15 euros on a fare that was 12 euros. We took three taxis in order to move luggage around hotels in Paris, and two out of three stole from me. Just flat out fucking stole from me. One black guy. One fucking chink. If any of you in NYC think we don’t live in an advanced society where the government keeps the yellow cabs from ripping us off, then you’re crazy. Forget cabbies not wanting to take you deep into BK or whatever. Taxis in Paris STEAL from you and they somehow think it’s in the constitution to do so. If you want to take a taxi in Paris, have exact change in cash. If you can, give them as many small coins as you can, just to annoy those dirty motherfuckers.

I look back on this experience the way I usually do when adrenaline is pumped hard throughout my body. I always want to say the right things when it’s happening, but when it’s happening you rarely know how to insult the person better or say something witty to diss them. I didn’t even get to give the universal language of ‘fuck you’ with a middle finger. All of it was so unsatisfying. Even if I got out a, “Fuck you and your motherfucking mama!” I’m not sure it would have been satisfying.

Posted by Danny on September 23, 2011 at 2:32 am

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