The Other Taxi Incident (July 4, 2006)

I was running late. This is not a rare occurrence. I had made plans to meet Dave, my longest standing friend, to celebrate our fortieth birthdays (his in mid-May, mine about six weeks later). We were to meet at 7:00 at Union Station, but I had, perhaps foolishly, decided that I both could and should put some time in on a cross-trainer before heading out for an evening of eating and heavy drinking. I left my place, in the now bustling Distillery District, at exactly 6:50. Now I can easily walk to Union Station in under twenty minutes, but I do hate to make people wait. And I was looking forward to a night out!
I left the building and turned right towards Parliament. Just as I reached it, I saw a taxi barrelling south along Parliament. I raised my hand as it drove by, and one quick U-turn later, I was sitting in the back.

I need to go to Union Station.

You’ll have to tell me how to get there. This is my first day.

I should point out that this is the city’s main rail hub, heavily used by both commuter and passenger trains. As such, this was a completely unanticipated response. I was at a loss for words, briefly.

Uh, turn left on Front and head downtown.

(Downtown is minutes away, even in bad traffic).
Like so many cabbies in Toronto, the driver was clearly from somewhere on the Indian sub-continent. Sri Lanka? India? Pakistan? Bangladesh?

May I ask where are you are from, sir?

I usually call people “sir” in such situations. Everyone likes to be respected. In fact, I call beggars “sir” or “ma’am” although I refuse to part with any money for them.

I am from India.

I was just there, for a few days, in April. It’s a shame, I have spent months studying Hindi, and we ended up in Tamil Nadu!

This was, of course, a blatantly manipulative attempt to show off. He took the bait:

नमस्ते
(Namaste: Hello)

It was part question, part challenge. I suppose the idea of a random white fare speaking any Asiatic language at all, much less his, must have seemed quite unbelievable, especially on his first day.

नमस्ते! आप कैसे हैं?
(Namaste! Aap kaise hain?: Hello! How are you?)

Or at least I meant to say something like that; for all I know, between my accent and my relatively meagre vocabulary, I may have been cursing taxi drivers' respect for the rules of the road. I think it was positive, though, as I was suddenly the recipient of a veritable barrage of Hindi. I got the first two or three words, then lost track. When it comes to languages, I will always be a dilettante. My affection for them far outweighs my knowledge, to say nothing of my discipline when it comes to actual study.
I smiled. He continued speaking, presuming, apparently, that I was catching it all. I smiled and nodded, and he smiled back. Fortunately, we were soon at the Union Station; I paid him off, wished him good luck, and headed downstairs to meet Dave.
For next time, perhaps I should memorize the phrases:

धीरे धीरे बोलिये
(dhire dhire boliye?: Could you speak more slowly?)

and

एक बार और कहिये
(ek baar aur kahiye?: Could you repeat that?)

These phrases are both from the Lonely Planet Hindi & Urdu Phrasebook.