As soon as they parked themselves further down the road I knew what they were up to. They were a family of three, they were French and they were going to steal my taxi. I was there earlier and they knew that but they were positioned up-street and just like being up-stream they were going to get first go at whatever was going to flow our way.
Of course there was a chance they were going to be descent and allow me my ride but the fact they weren't making eye contact told me that might be as likely as them handing me a suitcase of cash with a, "Go buy yourself something nice," for good measure. That was pre-guilt guilt if ever I saw it.
Sure, there was a chance, albeit small, that I was wrong and to wag my finger accusingly before any actual wrongdoing would simply make me look as undignified as I really was. Let them find out on the second meeting I always say; the first meeting is only for them to assume it.
There is a certain taxi etiquette in this fair city that sooner rather than later we all learn. The first rule is that it's every man, woman, child and geriatric for themselves. There are of course exceptions, where considerate people will allow others to go first but as I have already met all seven of them everyone else is out to get my ride.
The trick to not letting this unfortunate situation arise is to position yourself higher up the road than your competitors (oh yes, as that's what they are) in order to have first pick. However, one must perform this act as nonchalantly as possible as desperation is simply uncouth.
Those unfortunate others lining the curb, waiting for your taxi just don't exist so if in the unlikely event of any sort of challenge it should come as a complete surprise. And obviously overacting that surprise is par for the course.
When a taxi is in sight you must release your 'wrists of fury', flapping your hand in the most limp-wristed, campest manner possible. This implies that your need for a ride is far more urgent than anyone else's, or that you're ready to fly. Unfortunately when everyone else employs this method this becomes rather a moot point but when in Rome, uh, slip on a toga.
Eventually a taxi does stop and when it does that whole unhurried hurrying to the car door takes place, as while flagging it is one thing, securing it is another. The same goes with charging towards a car disembarking passengers nearby. That usually requires a brisk walk towards the target rather than an all-out bolt.
As soon as the unfortunate taxi comes to s standstill you must hover just outside the door like a crazed axe murderer ready to pounce on a group of scantily dressed sorority chicks. All the better if you do carry an axe as that should hurry the transaction going on inside the car. Obviously, as Murphy's Law would dictate the more urgently you need the taxi or torrential the environment, the slower the passenger will settle their account.
Hopefully you should understand by now that one should never let a little thing like that get in the way of scoring a ride. While the current passenger digs into their seemingly endless wallet in order to locate change, slide into the vacant seat: front if they're in the back or consequently, the back seat if the front is occupied. Besides, if you don't do it there's still a chance someone else might.
Yes, even with you hovering by the door, breathing heavily, someone may slide into a vacant seat pretending not to notice you.
At that point it would be considered impolite to remove them from the vehicle as somehow it was not considered as impolite to steal it in the first place. Given that outcome you would be considered the loser in that encounter and would have to try your luck elsewhere. And that just happened to be my fate as the French family piled into the taxi that should have been mine.
They would have been residents here long enough to know the rules and the behaviour of the victorious as they looked everywhere else but in my direction. I did all I could: stared at their passing taxi as I silently cursed them and the next 30 generations of their offspring, before returning to my limp-wristed taxi waving.
