Taxicab Rejections

Lindsey, my partner in crime and only friend in D.C., has a huge family. About 150 members are attending a bar mitzvah that is happening tonight ("really Reform," Lindsey informed me). Per family tradition, relatives flew in from all over the country as early as Thursday for some pre-ceremony celebrations. Last night, I went to the "young people's party," intended for the under-30 crowd. It was a lot of fun, and I was glad to meet a small cross section of Lindsey's family.

This entry is primarily about the ride home from the party -- and even more specifically, how it didn't really exist. Lindsey's mom insisted that I take a cab back to my house since the walk home from the Metro station has a pretty bad reputation. As I mentioned before in another entry, my company's official policy is that employees should take a shuttle to the Metro stop before and after work. And my workplace marks the halfway point between the subway stop and my house. On the walk home from the Metro station, my company is a poorly-designed intersection (sans pedestrian signal), a liquor store, and a 10-minute stroll away from my destination.

It was about 2:00 a.m. and kind of chilly outside. The doorman at the hotel was nice enough to wave down a cab for me, and I hopped in. "Hi. I'm going to Northeast," I told the driver. The taxi driver shot me a confused look and asked me, "How do you get there?" Not being a driver in this city [yet...], I really had no idea. But I described it to the best of my ability using landmarks and major roads. Apparently, I did an adequate job for the driver to pinpoint a location because his next response was "I really don't want to go there." This was the first time that I'd attempted to take a cab home in D.C., and I was pretty surprised. The driver further suggested that he take me to a Metro stop (a 4-block walk for $5.50? No thanks, buddy) or to Dupont Circle (also on the Metro) so that I could hail another cab. Well, I wasn't going to pay him some absurd amount of money to then have to pay for another mode of transportation, so I hopped out of the car, and we parted ways.

The doorman was probably confused as to why I had irreconcilabe differences with a taxi driver. But he hailed me another cab further down the street, anyway. I walked up to the passenger-side window and told the driver where I was going. I then received rejection #2. Rejection #3 was actually money-related as the driver insisted that I pay him $17 for the trip, which was an entirely arbitrary (and stupid) amount. D.C. has a zone system for taxis (no meters!), and Lindsey's mom had made the identical trip during the day for $14. When I suggested that he was being less than admirable with his price gouging, the driver told me that I could admirably find another cab. Fine. Rejections #4, #5, and #6 were equally entertaining. Driver #4 was headed to Virginia. Driver #5 was "on call duty." Driver #6 just flat-out refused.

Well, by #6, I was already by the Foggy Bottom Metro stop. So I just hopped onto a Blue train and headed home. After a 40-minute trip (including two pretty sizable waits), I finally made it back the Metro station nearest my house. By now, I'd realized that I'd left my jacket at the party. Chilled, I walked briskly home without incident or any encounters of the human kind.

In retrospect, I'm pretty amused at my experience last night. If taxis refuse to take me home, I'm structurally bound to economical public transportation. This, of course, is fine with cheap old me. However, it's not as if my neighborhood is a war-torn wasteland! I actually kind of like the area (less racist hollerings). Is there that much business at 2:00 a.m. in Foggy Bottom that 6 taxis would reject me? Is Northeast D.C. that bad?!