Taxi Driver 2: The Unauthorized Sequel
I’m going to write my own sequel to Taxi Driver, in which the antihero is nothing like Travis Bickell except that he drives a taxi. We meet him when his fare, a family of four recently returning from a balmy vacation locale to face the frozen tundra, are directed to his broken down jalopy of a cab, with a plastic bag filled with recycling on the front seat and the remnants of a recent meal in the foot well. A broken bit of plastic knife is wedged into the glove box seam, used to hang a plastic bag of garbage; no working credit card reader can be found -- it's cash only; a fare meter that looks like a child's toy from the company that makes "Spy Gear" will tally the cost of the trip.
The recycling is jammed into the cavity between the two front seats and this modern day taxi driver takes his fare on the slowest cab ride in the history of cab rides. At one point, the taxi driver feigns coming to a dead stop on traffic-free Storrow Drive before exiting toward Fenway. What’s he trying to do, freak out the Dad in the front seat? For Pete's sake, man, go!
When the cabbie finally gets the family home, he throws another curve ball at them, claiming they owe “$53” when the meter shows $36.10 with extras that are just $7.50.
He gets nearly $53 anyway, including tip, because, let’s face it, these Boston cabbies get sadder and sadder each year.