Taxi Drivers

When we had our café, a young Scottish chef would stop by on his way to work, for a coffee, a piece of cake, and a chat.

He lived and worked locally, so he walked everywhere.

This meant he constantly came to the attention of Mauritian taxi drivers.

They kerb-crawl:

“Madame, Madame, taxi?”, or in his case, “Monsieur, Monsieur, taxi?”

They don’t watch where they’re going, and hold up the traffic as they slowly follow you, trying to talk you into their cab.

“Where are you going? I give you a good price.”

This continues until you get so annoyed of saying no thank you that you end up being rude, and they squeal off in anger.

The chef’s conclusion?

“They think because I’m white, I can’t walk.”

Could be!

Advertisements

Didn't find what you want? Ask me a question...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s