Actual conversation in the taxi last night, after dropping off a good friend on the way to my house. The taxi man was young and smiley, and most of the conversation is just sort of goofy and lighthearted. Until the end, that is:
Taxi man: So, did you girls have a nice evening?
Me: Um... sure, why not? It was nice that it rained and everything got cooled off a bit.
Taxi man: Yeah. I guess you stayed out late to make the most of the weather, huh?
Me: I suppose so. But after a certain point I just wanted to go home.
Taxi man: Wny's that?
Me: Well, past three am or so, it's not very fun to be one of the only girls on the street. The men are just gross after a certain time.
Taxi man: Were the men bothering you?
Me: Yes. I hadn't seen my friend in almost a month, and we just wanted to hang out together. Why can't they understand that? (giggle)
Taxi man: (laughing) Yeah, they can be pretty determined. But you're beautiful, so I can understand...
Me: Well, thank you.
Pause
Taxi man: (turns on the light on the inside of the car, and looks at me in the rear view) No really. You are beautiful. That's why I picked you up tonight.
Me: (realizing that I am in his car and he could sort of drve me to some random semi-abandoned area, getting uncomfortable now, trying to change subject...)You choose your clients based on their appearance?
Taxi man: No. Just you. (turns of the light) Do you want to go get a drink with me?
Me: No. I want to go home.
Taxi man: Just one drink.
Me: No.
Taxi man: We could have a drink at your house.
Me: No. I don't think my boyfriend would like that very much. (laughing, trying to make the weirdness of the conversation go away)
Taxi man: Oh, how long have you been with your boyfriend?
Me: Six years. Almost seven.
Taxi man: Is he French?
Me: No, he's Congolese.
Taxi man: He's black?
Me: Yes.
Beat
Taxi man: I used to have an American girlfriend...
(here he launches into a story about when he went to the US to be with her, yada, yada, yada. Mainly, I feel relieved because he has let the getting-a-drink-together thing go, and we are only a few blocks from my house. We begin discussing cultural differences and what not, and I am happy we're in far more neutral territory. And then...)
Taxi man: I was serious though, about you being beautiful. You're exactly the type of girl I look for - physically, I mean. You're definetly my type.
Me: You can just drop me off right here.
Taxi man: Ok.
Pulls over
Taxi man: Eleven euros, please. (turns on the light and turns around to see me)
Me:Ok (fishing in my bag for that one extra euro)
Taxi man: I'm serious about the drink. (puts his hand on my knee)
Me: (Pushing off his hand) Look. I said no. Here's your money. (handing him the money)
Taxi man: (TWEAKS MY NIPPLE with the hand that I just pushed away while taking the money with the other)
Me: WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR? ARE YOU SICK OR SOMETHING? I said no, and you have no right to touch me like that. (gathering my bag together and stepping out the door of the car)
Taxi man: Thanks (for the money). I didn't mean to upset you, but at least now I get to watch you walk away angry. That's so hot.
I slam the door on my way out.
What upsets me about this story is that I know, I just know, that he has done this before. And that he'll do it again. It's gross, and it's wrong, and I am totally berating myself for not checking to see what his name was before he got all creepy-perv on me. I'm not really traumatized by it or anything, but I worry he would be far more persistant in the right circumstances. He is NOT the type of person I would want picking up any girl I know at 3 am. The whole experience was creeporific. I knew from the second he turned on that light to "get a better look at me" that SOMETHING was up. I'm just glad I yelled at him and that I made it home unscathed in the end. What a dick.
Oh what a crappy way to end a fun night with tha girls; a friend of mine in the PC in Azerbaijan had a strikingly similar experience last week. I am so sickened that we 'beautiful' women have to put up with this BS! Is it worth the time to report him? probably not, but I sure want to kick his ass for you!
Wow, that's seriously gross! As a French/Parisian, I have my share of "war stories" with taxis parisiens, yet nothing that creepy. Good thing you managed to get rid of him. I found myself in weird situations more than once -- like this taxi taking you off the freeway to CDG at 5am, supposedly to gain time? Or another one threatening to get away with my luggage in the boot, just because I didn't "get on" with him. Hellooo?!
Now, as a matter of principle, I write down their registration number as soon as I get in, and when they get "weird", I simply say with a delightful blonde smile, I'm sure you don't want me to *report* you. And I always carry a cutter with me [except when I travel by plane, because 9/11 took care of that].
I finally thought of some useful ammunition to carry in your purse that won't get you arrested - a spray bottle of some really stinky, cheesy purfume. Next time, if there is one & I hope there isn't...you can spray the perp and his cab with a ton of this stuff. That should ruin his chances for future rides for a while...And he'll get what he deserves!
That's really, really unsettling! I've never heard a story like this before and I was utterly aghast to read that he TWEAKED YOUR BLOODY NIPPLE FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!
Yeah, still can't believe that. Sweet christ in a monkey's barrel..
Glad you got away relatively uscathed though.
Ugh, sounds horrible. Glad you're alright. Dickheads like him shouldn't be allowed to do stuff like drive cabs.
Ughghghh!!!!!
It should be said that in posting this remark I had to run the gauntlet of your comment prompts, which include "got a name, sugah?" and got a ... box, baby?"
which is no nipple tweak, thank god, but mild arrassment none the less.
Again: Ughghghghh!!!!!!!
So sorry.
UGH UGH UGH! I wanna come over there, kick his ass, give you a big hug, and then go on a vengence rampage through the streets of Paris!!!!!
Plus, I'm now going to use the phrase "sweet christ in a monkey's barrel."
Man, that's really scary. I just sent your post to a friend who lives in Paris, and she said "I take taxis late at night to be safe, not harassed. What am I supposed to do now?"
Next time, try to remember his Taxi Number and go directly to the police station. I know it is easy to say. But try to do it.
What I don't like about Paris' cabs is that when you enter in a cab you enter in a the world of the taxi. You can have the smell of his last sandwich, cigarette, you hear the stupid radio he is listening to, and he is very close to you (as you have badly experienced it).
In London, when you enter a black cab, you really enter a taxi, you enter a standardized profesionnal space. You are physically separated from the driver by a glass. You talk through a system of microphones. I can imagine that for women it is a lot safer to enter such cabs, better than Paris' cabs
That's horrible. You should have reported him (and I'm sure you'll do it if there's ever another such incident). When I complained about a much less grave incident in a Paris taxi (the guy started cussing me out and calling me "ma poule" because I didn't have change, even though I got some immediately at the kiosk where we stopped) my complaint caused the driver to be suspended for a week and pay a large fine, "ce qui devrait l'inciter a ne pas recidiver" as the taxi commission put it.
Paris needs "pink" cabs like they have in London. Ugh.
Taxi blues abound in Paris. I love your blog honey and will link to it from mine