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Chinese Taxi

You haven't lived until you've ridden in a Chinese taxi. Or maybe you have.
And maybe you always want to throw up?

That's me. For the last 9 months, I've been doing a study, and that study is to
determine why I get carsick when I'm in Asia.

At first I thought it was because I was on my Blackberry. I gave that up in
India. And then I thought it was because I usually have early morning
departures and it was just morning sickness.

Not the case today.

But I think I've figured it out: there's just too much stimulation in these
little put-put cars.

First, let's discuss the dashboard. It has to be filled with stuff. For
example: four cellphones mounted in front of the driver. And then there has to be
some other chotskies glued down and lined up perfectly from window to
window. I know each and every one is auspicious, and brings greatness and
good health, and ya lah ya lah.  And before I leave, I swear I'm going to learn why that gold
cat with the waving arm is so important. Everyone has one.

Now for the review mirror. A bell has to hang down. It has to ding ding ding
all the way.

It needs to be hot inside even if the air is on.

And then a tv must be strapped to the seat for the convenience of the
customer. The driver then has his own radio that's louder than the tv. And
then, for goodness sakes, the dispatcher on the CB has got to be louder than
all of the above.

Don't forget the number one lesson in driver's training here: one foot on
the break. One foot on the accelerator. Alternate the use of both frequently
so that the car jerks and the bell hanging from rearview mirror dings
continuously.

Now I know.

I Love A Buffet

SH*T Happens