Had this conversation online this morning when Charming Calvin casually dropped the loaded mention that he'd be back on a certain date. The hint for a pick-up was obvious enough. Unfortunately I'm scheduled to be oncall on the same date ( Calvin calls it the Beijing Syndrome! ) so I'm definitely unavailable for personal chauffering services. I then made the mistake of suggesting a taxicab from the airport.
You can imagine the horror ensuing from the rest of my friends. You'd think I'd come up with some horrifically sadistic method of torture.
Sandy : Take a cab? A taxicab?
Paul : No, I actually suggested bungee-jumping with a fraying rope as a method of transportation. Of course a taxicab!
Calvin : I will find someone else to pick me.
Sandy : Yes, you deserve to be pampered.
Paul : What kinda archaic damsel-in-distress way of thinking is this? I'll pamper you with a damned paddle. Get a fucking taxicab.
Sandy : It's our right to be pampered.
Paul : I say this with love, okay. But find some balls, be a man and take the cab.
Right to be pampered, my ass. In case you're wondering, Submissive Sandy is a guy.
No doubt most of these guys assume that taxicabs are actually mobile dens of iniquity with lecherous mustachioed drivers putting their vaunted chastity ( and their even more precious wallets ) in dangerous peril. A task that obviously warrants a knight in shining armor to ride to their hapless rescue on his white steed.
Or crusty jalopy as the case may be.
Could you give me a ride?
And you know how I feel about guys waiting to be rescued! Obviously sensing the yin-yang imbalance in gay relationships, some serious bottoms ( Sandy? ) have usurped the unenviable role of the damsel-in-distress - helplessly twiddling their manicured thumbs waiting to be picked up at the airport rather than flag down an easily available taxicab.
Sigh. Where have all the real men gone?
Honestly, I don't see the problem. Hell, I've been doing it since I was back in school actually. Even at an intrepid 13 if I recall correctly - during my first solo flight to Penang. Though the dingy provincial airport seemed suddenly flush with suspicious characters, I managed to ward off the attentions of pushy strangers, steered clear of the touts and found the one kindly uncle in his trusty cab ( with a working meter! ). Since then I've never had any problems travelling alone.
Just recently, I mimed my way to Calvin's pad from the airport in Beijing with a written placard. You can imagine the difficulties I had with the driver's heavily-accented Mandarin - especially with my sad rudimentary knowledge of the language.
But if you can find your way about in a foreign country, I don't see how much more difficult it could be navigating in your own country. Take a big yellow taxi dammit.