Channels

Photo: Danny Dagan
Israeli cab drivers: Bringing personaility to the job
Photo: Danny Dagan

Personality is the key

Israeli cabbies bring much charm to the driver's seat

There seems to be but one requirement for being allowed to drive a taxi in Israel.

 

And you know it's not a good sense of direction, familiarity with the city, or knowledge of the speed limit.

 

No, the only qualification for a taxi license must be personality. Israeli taxi drivers have so much of it. It's quite breathtaking. Here in Israel, no one bothersto put on a professional facade for their, as they do in, say, the States or in Britain.

 

Instead they just bring their natural selves to their job. (Who hasn't suffered from the ritual 10 minute hold up caused by the Israeli checkout girl answering her cell phone as she dangles your bag of apples around, oblivious to you stamping your foot at her in frustration?) Nowhere is this phenomenon truer than with the nation's taxi drivers.

 

But this is not necessary a bad thing. On the contrary, I think this feature should be listed in the entertainment section all Israel guidebooks. I haven't taken cabs that often, and yet I've effortlessly accumulated a mass of cab driver stories during my stay to keep me amused the next time I'm sitting in silence in a British taxi, possibly hearing about how much it rained yesterday. Here are my 3 favorites:

 

Location: Nazareth.

 

This cab driver seemed quite pleasant and normal at first. He asked me how my day was, we agreed on a price without any problems, and he asked me questions about where I was from in England, what did I do, and then why was I in Israel. When I told him I was Jewish he got extremely excited.

 

"You are Jewish??"

 

"Of course! I love Israel. That's why I'm here." He stops the taxi abruptly by the side of the road. We were nowhere near the destination, but he pulled down the shade at the top of the inside of the windscreen in front of me to reveal a big picture of the Lubavicher Rebbe where the mirror would normally be, bordered by floral decorations all around. He taps it meaningfully.

 

"The Messiah!!" he shouts. And stares at me in anticipation. I pause. I don't agree but I also don’t know my way around Nazareth.

 

"I know!!!" I shout back. He beams at me and starts up the engine and drives me to my stop, shutting his eyes in rapture every once in a while humming a tune to himself.

 

Location: Beer Sheva.

 

I was volunteering at a local high school with 4 friends, running activities for students to help them develop better English skills, and learn more about American/ British culture. There was a taxi rank opposite the absorption center where we lived, and one day five of us were about to pile into two cabs, when one of the drivers, points and me, and says:

 

"You. Girl. I want you go in my taxi." I was already climbing inside the other cab.

 

"Me?"

 

"Yes, yes. You." he said aggressively "in my taxi now." Alarm bells ring in my head: "Can my friend come with me?"

 

"Yes, yes, but you must sit in front." I was feeling a tad apprehensive about this, but we were running late, so I got out of the cab and sat next to the driver.

 

"Ok. Now sing."

 

"What?"

 

"Sing! You sing pretty voice. Last week on way back you did sing 'la la la I got one hand in my pocket la la la.' I want hear you sing. You can pay me less money today."

 

Then I remembered: last week I'd played the students my favorite Alanis Morrissette song, and had sung it all the way home in the taxi cab as I couldn't get it out of my head. I guess the cab driver couldn't either. He gave me half price.

 

Location: Jerusalem

 

I was with three of my friends on our way to hear the Book of Esther on Purim. The driver had the radio on loud tuned to a really cheesy radio station, playing songs that might have been almost cool 20 years ago. My friend sitting in the front seat has very high standards of what he considers to be good music, and I could tell he was suffering.

 

Then, sitting in traffic, a particularly cheesy song comes on and the driver bops his head up and down to it. It is too much for my friend. Politely he turns to the driver:

 

"Excuse me: can you turn this music off please? It's horrible."

 

I kid you not when I tell you that the driver leans over, reaches into the dashboard and pulls out a tissue. We are at a traffic light now. He tears the tissue into two pieces, rolls up both pieces into balls and hands it to my friend.

 

"Here. For you. Put these into your ears," he said, and turned up the volume.

 

Now that's personality. Nesiah tova. Have a nice trip.

 


פרסום ראשון: 05.19.06, 15:17
 new comment
Warning:
This will delete your current comment