A Very Uncomfortable Cab Ride

I was working at the fancy law firm in the city at the time, but I lived out in the suburbs and usually trained it to work.

My firm had a policy about working late.  It was to encourage late nights or discourage leaving early or necessity or whatever, but if an attorney worked after a certain time, the firm would pick up the tab for a cab ride home.  This wasn’t a big deal for the city folks, but the policy included picking up the tab for the suburban commuters as well.  That tab could be quite substantial. Still,  the policy wasn’t abused, people would rather get out of work early than work late just to cop a free cab ride.   It seemed like a caring policy, the firm wanting to make sure its associates got home safely.

Rumor had it, though, that it was really a liability and public relations issue.  The story was that there was a female attorney from another firm who was required to work late and as she went home she was brutally attacked while waiting for a train.  She suffered head injuries so severe that she was unable to practice law ever again. She brought suit against the firm.  After that,  so we heard, all the large city firms started the free cab ride “benefit.”

I’d cabbed it a few times, not often.   But this evening or should I say night or actually morning — I was working on a project that kept me in the office very late, going on 1:00 am.  Since I’d taken the train to the city I needed a cab ride home.  I  was pregnant at the time, though not very far along.  I am also a fair-skinned African-American woman who had recently had her hair permed.  To those of you who don’t know, that means a “permanent relaxer” — the opposite of the curly perm.   It makes our hair straighter (like with a flat-iron) and easier to manage.   Having just had my “hair done” it was very, very straight.

I know I’m not Beyonce, but indulge me. Her hair is straight in this picture.

My point is:  It was night, I am light-skinned  and my hair was long and straight.  In poor lighting could be mistaken as white.

My firm always used the same taxi company, so I wasn’t hailing just any cab, merely arranging for pick up.  The cab was waiting at the street and I hopped in, preparing to doze for the thirty minute ride.  I was so very tired, having worked such a long day and being pregnant and all.

As the cabbie drove out of the city and  out onto the highway he started to talk.

And oh boy did he talk!  This man hated black people.  He went on and  on using the N-word, yelling, saying all black people are worthless  and didn’t deserve to be alive.   At least, I think he said we did not deserve to be alive.  If he didn’t, he said something close.  It was more than a rant, it was a hate-filled tirade.

Hostile, that’s it.  This man was hostile, openly hostile.

Suddenly, I felt very afraid.  I think it was the pregnancy making me feel vulnerable and alone (I did not have a cell phone at the time).   I just wanted to get me and my unborn child home safely because this guy  — seemed —- crazy.   And he clearly hadn’t gotten a good look at me, because he was ranting in such a way that he thought  I’d be a sympathetic ear.

I wanted out of that cab.

What if this guy freaks out — on me? Should I just get out now? ”   Not an option.  I looked out the window I saw that we were on a bridge.   Couldn’t very well ask him to pull over. Standing on the side of a bridge pregnant and alone wouldn’t be good either.  I was starting to freak myself out a bit.   This guy was scaring me and  I don’t usually scare easily.  “What’s up  with this?” I wondered, “Why am I so scared?”    I’ve never been afraid to go out alone or ride public transportation.  I actually like walking around by myself, and would often scoff at the suburbanites who are fearful  of the big city or of the dreaded subway.  When male friends or colleagues suggest walking me to my car I would often respond, “Um, Why?”  I thought I was Miss Independent, and all that.  Now that I think about the risks I used to take, I’m thankful and lucky that I’ve never been a victim of random crime.

But this cab driver  — he was scaring me.

So I sat in silence as he ranted  . . .  and I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit that . . .

I kept my head down and let my  limp, straight hair hang over my face.

I didn’t want him to see me, to discover who/what I really am.  I was afraid that this would send him over the edge, having “one” in his cab, knowing I could get him in trouble. I even went so far as covering my hands with my jacket.

I had never tried “to pass” as white before — or since.  I was scared of this man, though.  And I didn’t like it.

It was a long ride.

When I failed to join him in his rant he eventually quieted down, which scared me more.  I saw him glance at me through his mirror and he didn’t say another word, which scared me even more. I hoped he assumed I was asleep.

Oh,” I thought.  “I’m going to be left in a ditch somewhere and no one will know.” (My husband was home  in bed.)

Did I say it was a long ride?  It was.

We finally got close to home and I had the crazy cabbie drop me off  at the train station where my car was. Perhaps I should have had him bring me straight home, except I didn’t want him to know where I lived.  I wasn’t thinking very clearly. I just wanted out of that cab.

I had him pull up right next to my car; I had my keys ready and I  hurried out.

When my hand was on safely on my unlocked  car door I turned so he could see me and simply said, “I’m black”  jumped in my car and sped off.   It was somewhat dramatic yet anti-climatic, hardly confrontational.  I lacked bravado alone in a parking lot at 1:30 AM.  I left him there and drove the wrong way home to make sure I wasn’t followed.  This guy really scared the crap out of  me.

I was shaking, and mad — so angry that this man could make me feel so vulnerable when I want to be so strong.  I started to question myself, wondering why I reacted so strongly.   A lot of people say stupid things, most don’t act on them.    Some do, however.  Some do.   I was a woman, a pregnant woman, alone late at night  with a man who  had the awful combination of hateful and chatty.   Bottom line was that I’d do anything, including “pass”  to keep me and my baby safe.

Overreacting?  Yeah probably.  I mean, what was he  really going to do?   But it’s a special kind of fear when you think, “If he knew, he’d hate me and he might hurt me.” —  That fear of being “outed” in a hostile environment –not pleasant.  Gays, Jews, Transgendered . . .  I would guess have a similar historically based respect for this kind of  fear.

Justified or not, it was a real fear, a discomfort to the bone.    And my being pregnant made me the polar opposite of a bad-ass.   Instead, I felt vulnerable, in need of protection.

Well, the next day I reported it to the partners.  It was easy to track down the cabbie since the cab company was under contract, and he was promptly fired. (Yeah who’s the bad-ass now?“)

The cab company sent me a huge bouquet of flowers with written apologies, and the firm apologized on their behalf as well.  Everyone wanted to make sure I was “okay.”


I viewed the world a bit differently.  I realized it’s not just about  my pride and independence anymore.  I was going to be somebody’s mother and —  I had to do what I had to do  — even if it meant sitting quietly with my head lowered.

Just Me With  . . .   a cab ride . . .  from Hell.

I threw the flowers out.  I didn’t want my office decorated with mementos of that crazy ride.  For a much more upbeat commuting story see Miracles Happen.

12 responses

  1. Damn, that is scary as hell. Good job, I was right there with you in that back seat. I will not say you were crazy and overreacting AT ALL. You had no reason to trust this person and every reason to follow your instincts.
    I hope he really did get what he deserved.

    1. Thanks for that — because I really was scared. It was so long ago but I still remember that feeling. Ugh.

  2. Jeeeesus Christ, that is just appalling! I wish no one ever has to “pass” as someone their not…but while there are asshats abound masquerading as human beings something tells me we’ll be hiding for a while yet. I still have to pass as straight because I apparently look it. And sometimes its easier and safer than correcting them.

    You rock. Xx

    1. Yeah, sometimes we just have to do things for safety. Sigh. Thanks for the support.

  3. I cannot imagine how scary that was. Riding alone late at night with a lunatic. I’m glad that you made it home safely and his company kicked him to the curb.

    1. I was so happy to get in my house. The company was squirming because they were afraid the firm would pull all business from them — it was a huge account. I hope it taught them to watch who they send out.

  4. That IS scary. And I wouldn’t have had him drop me off at my house either.

  5. You did the right thing. He was insane and you had NO IDEA what he was capable of. You weren’t just looking out for yourself; you had your baby to consider. As a Jewish woman that doesn’t “look Jewish”, I hear my share of anti-semitic remarks, often from highly educated people. Maybe that shouldn’t mean anything, but I’ve always thought bigotry a form of low-education. Sometimes I say something and sometimes I don’t think it’s worth it. They usually apologize, but I know they don’t mean it. They’ll just be more careful the next time. I’d rather know up front how someone really feels.

  6. Hi.

    I don’t usually comment on blogs I stumble across (I usually just “like” them.. but there’s not way I can click that button after the story you just told!).

    I’m so sorry you experienced what you did in that cab, but I’m glad he didn’t get even crazier on you!

    I try to understand people with beliefs that differ from my own, but I can’t wrap my brain around hatred or ignorance of that magnitude.

    I hope the rest of your pregnancy is happy, healthy, and free from racist idiots!

    1. Thank you for commenting and for your well wishes. This happened long ago and my pregnancy went on without a hitch (or danger) and I had a healthy baby. It was scary, though. I would have much preferred him refusing to drive me. Anyway, thanks again.

  7. Just horrible! I understand: you had to do what you could to protect yourself because, given his rage, you couldn’t know if he had not already murdered a Black sometime in his past–and you didn’t want to be the first or the next one. Plus, you were being a loving mother. I’m appalled by this story. How did he start on Blacks? And what did he do when you revealed your race to him? I’ve worked over the phone often and people think I’m Caucasian all the time, and many feel they can let their tongues be free about Blacks and others. (I also witnessed a white woman vehemently criticize Mexicans to her neighbor, working as Clerk at the drugstore that day, not remembering, I guess, that this woman’s husband was from Mexico!) That’s nothing compared to being in another’s presence and being afraid about their intentions.

    1. Thanks for commenting. I don’t know what set him off, I think maybe he drove by a black person, I don’t know. When I revealed myself to him I got out of there as soon as I could, but I remember a look of surprise. He probably figured he’d get in trouble at work. I have had the same unfortunate interaction with a former neighbor (I didn’t stay in this neighborhood very long) who went on a tirade against Mexicans to me and I thought, “What the hell? If he talks this way about Mexicans, what does he think about me? And how does he know I’m not Mexican? This guy must hate everybody. And why the hell does he think I want to hear his crap??? Does he honestly assume I share his sentiments? Asshole.” It pissed me off but it also scared me and for the rest of the time I lived there I stayed inside when that guy was outside and I moved shortly thereafter. Ugh. But being stuck in a car with someone so hateful, that was really scary.

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