Paris sketches-The Paris taxi driver

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The taxi-driver, direct descendant of the coachman, is more attentive as the Paris café waiter, more and a greater psychologue than the ober in the brasserie. But he is more awe-inspiring, often much less polite, less cheerful, less serviceable. For him, the client is very seldom the king and when he finally decides to take you with him it’s purely because he is in a good mood. But numerous ordeals are awaiting the chosen passenger: from the nauseating odour of air fresheners invading the car with their horrible odours to the loud broadcast of a soccer game, not even mentioning the presence of a nasty looking watch dog on the front seat next to the chauffeur, a silent companion closing only one eye and watching you with the other. But before a taxi needing person succeeds to grab a car in the hellish hours of the day he must be very careful how to signal his need. And when he finally sits in the car sent to him by divine providence, the client is part of another suspect category: possible muggers, potential criminals. From now on the driver looks more in his rear mirror than on the street in front of him.
Unfortunately times changed and driving a cab is become a dangerous enterprise needing most attentions to avoid mean tricks. I heard even, but I can’t believe it, that some chauffeur equipped his vehicle with an electric bench, capable of launching 52,000 volts –luckily with a very low strength of current—in the nuts of his evil passenger.
But, you, the tourist, visiting this wonderful city, be reassured. The amount of these electrified vehicles is very low and seems to be illegal. Most chauffeurs prefer a separating glass wall to that devilish invention. And some drivers even don’t want any of them. They stay old-fashioned and trust the client. What a relief!