Sunday, July 20, 2008

The hack in the backseat.


 So I'm in this cab. On the front dashboard, the taxi license says the driver was Sikh.

 A few moments after I told him my destination, he started to speak some Middle Eastern language. I figured there must have been a little English strewn in there somewhere but had missed it. No matter. Cleverly, I pretended I hadn't heard him.
 
 After a few seconds, he started talking again. Damn, I thought. Not that I had anything against him, I just hate being in a conversation where I can discern only one in 10 words and have to nod as if I know exactly what he's talking about.
 
 "Excuse me?" I asked.
 
 He didn't respond.

 Then he started up again. I still had no idea what he was talking about.
 
 "Excuse me?" I said at a level he might actually hear.

 This time, he turned and looked in the direction of my utterance. And that's when I saw his phone. He was talking on the phone. He had Bluetooth technology. He wasn't talking to me.
 
 Oh.
 
 Reflecting on this moment, I thought it was kinda like the one-way conversation that some advertisers have with young people who've grown up with computers. 

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