Dear Agony Uncle,
I’m not much of a driver, opting instead to be chauffeured around by the myriad of Melbourne’s semi-capable taxi drivers. I’m wondering whether it’s rude for me to sit in the back, or whether I should sit up front and grind out conversation for the sake of politeness? I’m running short on ways to discuss weather.
Captain Cab, In the passenger seat, Melbourne
Dear Captain Cab,
I too am a frequenter of taxis and I can seldom remember many journeys that haven’t commenced with “Been a busy night? What time do you finish?” There was once an occasion about ten years ago where my taxi driver was playing amazing African beats and I was compelled to run upstairs and give him deep house mix CD along with a sizeable tip. I’d like to think that I was being generous but I’m sure that any observer and the in-cab infrared would say I was just wasted. However, my interaction and how we connected was a rarity.
It’s this forced and prolonged interaction with someone who you would unlikely encounter in any other walk of life that can be refreshing or sometimes terrifying. Occasionally, you’ll encounter a taxi driver who is informed, well-read and up for a discussion of intellectual bounds, whereas there are those who wish to share their dogma and often bigoted views with anyone who’ll care to listen. And then there’s those who’d prefer to talk on their mobile phone to their other taxi-driving comrades, although, often it appears they’re either talking to you or themselves.
Depending on where you are located in the world can dictate how you should behave. If, for example, you were alone in New York City and sat in the front seat a driver would think you either weird or a tourist, in which case they would take you on the most indirect route. Fortunately, the City has the flat-rate cab fare to any of the five boroughs from JFK to combat this, but there’s nothing to say a five-minute ride downtown mightn’t become a scenic drive to nowhere.
In London, black cabs are so designed that you must sit in the back, with provision for four or more passengers and enough leg room for a small petting zoo or a home appliance. In other European cities, it’s expected that you sit in the back seat unless you have other passengers with you, and why wouldn’t you—most of their taxis are Mercedes-Benz.
It’s Australia with its relaxed views on social hierarchy where it can be a little unclear and in days of yore it was almost expected you would sit in the passenger seat. Then with the increase of violence, the introduction of the driver safety barriers—which kept the knife-wielding attackers out and the body odour in—and the proliferation of American television culture in Australian society, passengers were relegated to the back seat.
The decision is entirely up to you: if you fancy a chat with a complete stranger, by all means sit in the front seat; however, if the conversation becomes stilted you’ll have to endure the journey. It isn’t rude to sit in the back seat, however, it’s alway polite to greet the driver when you arrive, address him courteously when giving directions and excuse yourself if you’re going to make a call on your mobile phone. After all, taxi drivers are there to make a living and I seem to recall a certain Robert DeNiro film of a taxi driver–turned–vigilante: I’m certain you want to be returned to your destination in one piece.
Image: SPS/Flickr
Published on 4 October 2011 by Agony Uncle