A Tale of Two Taxis

Horror stories on Mex City taxi kidnappings do not come up short. I'd just read one in Daniel Hernandez's rad book, 'Down and Delirious in Mexico City.' More frightening, two personal accounts by friends of a narrow escape, and not such a lucky finish.

I got in the taxi at 8:30ish, after a final work call. En route to organize all things for travel. I had all my shit; cameras, compu, external hard drive, "applebottom jeans and the boots with the furs." Rain came up while flagging, so feeling stoked when dude stopped. It became clear quickly that he had no clue which way was up. Got the bad vibe feel. Dude started to talk all soft on his phone, head turned down. His ID placard thing didn't match the face. Mild panick. Told him to pull a Larry sporadically, which he did. Raining. Watching for tailers. Changed routes again two mins later. False security, but got to destino safe.

Next morning. Flagged a random cab with a partner in crime. Minimal chit chat, but arranged for a pick up to airport a few hours. A few minutes in we're talking about John Lee Hooker's influence on Eric Clapton and the Stones, Leadbelly's dissonantly caterwauling, hitchiking to see the Beatles live in Chicago in the 70's and how some Reggaeton ain't half bad, but mid-90's rap will never be replaced in the beats department. We got stuck in traffic. Dude explained his massive vinyl collection, and how he saves all his money driving cabs to buy tunes and to travel (been everywhere).

I messed up the departure terminal, and felt glad i did; Doors stories. When the ride finally ended, we, exchanged numbers; him saved as Carlos Santana, me, M(i)yles Davis. AND, we might go see Jethro Tull when they come to town next month.

He saw them in 1972, and described it as "impresionante."