Of cabs and cabmates...

It’s been over two years since cabs have featured regularly on my weekdays, taking me to that destination called the workplace.

This has put me in a more than capable position to pen my observations about the people who share them with me.

Quite a few specimens, they can be.

So you have the girl with large, soulful eyes, whose main joy in life is to whisper sweet-nothings into the ears of her (un)willing (?) beloved, who might just be cursing Graham Bell’s invention. Anyway, the motto for this lass is ‘till death do us apart,’ a motto she seems to take a tad too seriously.

Then you have the guy who, every five minutes or less, pats his carefully gelled hair,, and who is terribly partial to any shiny surface that even remotely resembles a mirror, and into which he can manage a peek at his shining crop. This guy is the easiest one to deal with – as you have to only touch his mane, which will make him shrilly scream for cover, and mutter to himself throughout the way, leaving you free to smirk all the way.

Then you have the bloke who believes in making everyone present fully aware that he suffers from ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder). Nothing else can explain why, within a spell of two minutes, he has to change the blessed radio station at least seven times. Just as soon you think you can settle down into a cosy doze with an oldie playing melodiously in the background, you are shattered out of your complacence by what can only be best described as a toad which has a severe case of the sinus, and has to make-do with a nasal, guttural rasp. At the end of five minutes, all that you can remember is a throbbing sound where your forehead used to be, and a heart that yells bloody murder.

Moving on, how can we forget the girl who makes everyone sit up and take note? And not because of the flaming lip colour she swears by. This is the girl who strongly believes in the phone syndrome – ‘Have mouth, will speak.’ And loudly, at that! So you can’t help but hear how so-and-so has bad breath or body odour. Or how the bespectacled person at work digs his nose in full view. Or what she had for dinner last Tuesday (with a running commentary of the recipe). Or to which doctor so-and-so had to go to sort out his little ‘problem.’ Ahem! Or where her family would be going on vacation in the next decade. Boy! This lady sure has some thoughts to share.

Next is the girl who is probably preparing for a chequered career in the secret services. How else can you explain the barrage of questions that come your way - How is your work? Do you have a boyfriend / girlfriend? What does he / she do? What, you don’t have one? Why not (look of unspeakable pity and horror write large on her painted face, and in her saucer-like eyes)? Some more digging around - have you never had one? Or did you decide to part ways? Why? Do you plan to stick to the job? Have you seen the new movie being aired at the theatres? What will you do for the weekend? Yada yada. She Till your eyes become glazed, your throat becomes parched, and you have to reach out for your phone to pick up an imaginary call.

Aha. Leaving out the self-proclaimed DJ would be a crime. With earphones perpetually stuck to his ears, and a mouth constantly chewing on gum, you can’t help but notice him. Or rather, hear him. So loud is the volume of the rock he is hearing that you are tempted to carry along your own set of headphones the next day onwards.

The above sometimes make way for new faces, notably the girl who can’t stop humming (and who makes you constantly look out for the mysterious bee inside the cab), the guy who can’t wait for the weather to get pleasant, so that he could request that the air conditioning be kept off (and he can conveniently puff smoke-spirals), the guy who constantly drums on the window panes (perfecting his hand at the bongos, no doubt), the constantly-rummaging-in-her-bag-for-something-or-the-other-girl etc.

There is always a constant though - the twinkling-eyed girl who has made it her business to observe them all, to pen her next blog post…

(Optional applause).

Stand back people. Let me give a sweeping bow.