street savvy

Something always happens to Ashley and me when we make attempts to use the cab system here in D.C.

After lugging our suitcases who knows how many blocks to Union Station to catch a cab to the airport, Ashley and I were approached by a guy in a suit who asked us where we were going, then took our suitcases and told us to follow him. Thinking he was just your standard cab driver, we followed him, only to be led to an unmarked, ominous black Navigator with tinted-windows, parked on a curb. It looked like one of those government vehicles you see on movies. And as I looked at the guy closer, I realized he looked to be what you might call 'shady.'

After climbing hesitantly into the SUV, and settling into the plush seats, we realized there wasn't even a meter. As we pulled away, Ashley asked how much it would cost.

"45 maam," he said.

The whole reason we'd made the trek from our respective apartments to Union Station was to save money on a cab, but once again, our transportation experience was more than we bargained for.

As our Mafia-ish driver chattered away endlessly on his phone, frequently in different languages, Ashley and I looked at each other in the backseat, wanting to say something but too afraid that this was not the kind of guy you complain about a $45 fee to.

Once we arrived at the airport, he gave us a blank receipt. No company name, no price, just a blank slip of paper that read "taxi cab service."

I don't know if he thought we were the rich kind of college students who prefer this kind of service, or if he just thought we were naïve enough to go with him. Obviously, the latter of the two possible assumptions was correct.

The ultimate conclusion we've come to is that we've got to get some street smarts before we go out into the real world.

Just landed in Dallas.

--Sommer