Puked on and cussed at: One night behind the wheel of a Bangkok taxi
Our fearless writer, Cod, gets ready to head out onto the road as an undercover taxi driver. City residents have a love/hate relationship with Bangkok’s taxis. They take you home when you’re drunk and rush you to work when you’re late. They take a wrong turn and get you stuck in traffic or cut you off when you’re driving your own car.
To most of us the story of the taxi thankfully ends the moment we get out of them. So to gain some insight into this much maligned but essential form of Bangkok transport, I decided to assume the identity of a Bangkok cabbie and be a chauffeur to random strangers for a night.
How hard could it be, right? Drive around town, pick up some people, make some money and return the cab.
I had everything I needed: a working knowledge of a stick shift, handy anti-theft amulet and some decent English skills to pull out should I end up getting stuck with a clueless tourist.
Packing Red Bull and charm
The night shift for most Bangkok cabbies starts at 7 p.m. The men -- and a few women -- congregate at one of the city’s taxi stations, where the big bosses rent out the vehicles to licensed taxi drivers for about 500-800 baht per night depending on the type and age of the cars. I received permission from the pit boss and the police to be a driver for one night only, for research purposes.
Each car comes with a full tank of gas. That means to make a profit I’d not only have to pick up enough fares to cover the rental amount but also make sure that I filled up the tank before I returned the car the next morning at 7 a.m.
None of that mattered to me, as I was hyped up. Not only did I have a foolproof plan, but I speak English pretty well (really I do) and am full of charisma and charm (or so my mother tells me).
Armed with a bottle of Red Bull and what was clearly a good idea, I pulled out from the station and headed toward what I thought was an obvious cash cow: backpacker enclave Khao San Road. I hit my first potholes -- getting reaquainted with the stick shift was a challenge and people weren’t rushing to the curb to flag me down as I had imagined.
Most of the fares rarely went over 100 baht, says Cod. Wanted: Conversation starters
Undeterred, I pushed on towards the Rama VII bridge. After hitting Borom Rachachonani I was flagged down for my first fare; a young couple going to Central Pinklao.
Now most of my personal experiences with taxi drivers have involved impassioned debates about politics. Now that I was the one behind the wheel I didn’t exactly know how to break the silence.
“So, going for dinner?” was my opening gambit.
I was met with a muted affirmation and half-hearted chuckles. Great. Awkward silences. Now I know why cabbies listen to loud luk thung while they drive.
Thankfully the ride only lasted long in my mind. In a matter of minutes we arrived at their destination. First ever taxi fare: 60 baht.
This would be a reoccurring theme for much of the night as I picked up small fares that only went a few kilometers. By midnight I was not even close to making up my rental and gas expenses.
The closing time rush
As it was nearing bar closing time, 2 a.m., I pushed on back to Khao San Road, where it intersects with Khok Wua.
Only a few months ago this had been a battleground between soldiers and anti government protesters, but now late night revelers and backpackers walk happily -- and in most cases drunkenly -- to and fro.
I didn’t want to wait in the long taxi line and be charged a ‘waiting fee’ by local strongmen so I decided my best bet was to head somewhere else.
The waiting fee is a commonality for many cabbies, especially in hot spots like the Suvarnabhumi International Airport and resort city Pattaya. In return for finding passengers or waiting at good locations taxis have to pay a fee (not completely legal).
I lucked out as on my way out of Khao San I picked up a group of beered up Belgian tourists wanting to go to Sukhumvit Road.
While I was being taught some unsavory words in Flemish I had a moment to reflect. This was not easy work. The shift was long, the boredom was intangible and the work was thankless.
After the Belgians I had to drop off a young, drunk Thai woman at a condo on Sathorn Road. While helping her out of the cab she thought the best way to repay my kindness was to vomit on my shoes.
So by the end of the night, after being puked on, ignored, insulted and slept on, I earned a net profit of 150 baht. Not to mention a new-found respect for taxi drivers.
