Getting into a taxi in Shanghai is a bit like sitting in the first three rows at Seaworld- yes you might get wet (/ in a head-on collision with a Bongo truck) but surely that’s part of the fun?

I take a taxi to work every day. Generally it’s the same guy every day, the cheekiest man in Shanghai this fella would have no trouble pulling out in front of an ambulance, cutting up the Popemobile then honking his horn at Ghandi’s funeral parade to get out of the way.

Sometimes though I have to get other drivers- drivers who see a white face and hear cash registers. Last Thursday was one of these times. It was 10:30pm, and I picked up some guy from the airport taxi rank, straight away I should have known that something was wrong because this guy was wearing a tracksuit and not the regulation 8 year old polyester suit of most cab drivers (the more cigarette burns on his sleeves, the safer I feel)- but I didn’t pay much attention and we set off West.

It was as we drove up the gangway of the Hydrofoil to Guam and the driver started putting on suntan lotion that I started to suspect we weren’t taking the most direct route to my house. I tried to argue with the guy, but his Chinese was significantly better than mine, so instead of getting into some screaming match (I cry easily) I just made sure that when we finally arrived, the number on the receipt matched the one on his ID card and waited until the next day to grass him up to the authorities.

The number to call was on the receipt, my workmate told them where I got in the cab, where I got out, how much I paid, and what the distance was. They got back to him in a few days to confirm what I already knew- the sweatsuit kid had tried to play me for a sucker.

The happy ending to this tale is that today I received a cheque for 3 times the amount of money he scammed me on, and a VIP ticket to the guy’s public execution (People’s Square, 3pm. Let me know if you want in on a case of beers. Bring pork). Hurray for justice!

Taxi cheque

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