I’ll admit it. I have a thing for taxi drivers. They get me every single time. I hop in the car. Usually frantic. Usually late. Usually with a proper blow-dry and lip gloss. Inevitably i’m heading somewhere special, or often just back home from a blow out on a rainy day.
So, I say hello, assess their accent, and carry on. When they’re not busy shouting into their mobile phones, I start up a conversation. “Lots of traffic today’? Or “busy day”? And then sometimes I complain about the rain. Or the humidity. Or the snow. And then when i feel the moment is right, I ask them where they’re originally from. 7 out of 10 times they’re from Pakistan or Indian. I’m partial to India, as I was a visitor to that fab country about 9 years ago.
When the driver says he’s from Pakistan, I say, “oh cool, I’ve never been. The closest i’ve come is to India’. Inevitably we start some sort of chat about the food and then culture. It’s always interesting. Never as good as talking to an India native. And then, like i always do, i ask what kind of work they did in their country. The younger drivers were always university students. The older ones are always engineers, computer programers, doctors, lawyers, etc. My reaction is always the same. Man, that must be so tough. And then they sigh, as they speed down Avenue Road and say, yeah, but it’s a better life for our children.The children. Nearly all of them have two kids. So often one boy and one girl. Most of the men have kids around the same age as my two. Their kids go to the local public schools and play in the same kinds of fields that my kids play on. The girls always do ballet and gymnastics. The boys learn to play hockey and act Canadian.
These dads are proud as they show me a pic or two from their well used smart phones. Adorable I say. And i always mean it. I know these guys work hard. Hard so that their kids can fit in and live a life they didn’t have. I’m really not so different from them. Except for the fact that I did have all that as a kid. But i want exactly what they want now. I want my kids to be happy and healthy. And loved. And cherished.As the car comes to a stop, I’m always sad to say goodbye. I want to hear more about them. Learn more about their lives in Toronto. Hear about their wives and their families. Chat more about their favourite restaurants in TO. But then, I realize it might be weird if I don’t get out of the car. So i say goodbye, wish them the best and then like always, I over tip. Hoping that the extra few dollars might go to a new pink and sparkly tutu for their little love. Namaste.
