Drowning in a Taxi

I like to consider myself well-traveled.  And, for those people that I know who have filled their passports dramatically more than mine (since I don't have one), I can at least say that I feel 'urban'.  By that, I mean that I'm comfortable in large cities, and I don't really stand out like most tourists.  However, I've never really been comfortable with taxis.  I've always been a bus/subway/walker.  Taxis kind of intimidate me.  It was fun to find that Annie shared these feelings with me.  We found out when we had to hail one from in front of the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco on Sunday.

Yep, I teach here on Sundays, and I needed a taxi.

The whole process actually wasn't difficult at all.  I actually found the new/hybrid taxi to be comfortable and really convenient.  Although, there was a glowing moment where my inexperience with taxis came to a screaming apex.

I had just danced for an hour.  Before that, I walked to the top of Nob Hill from BART (straight uphill).  I was kind of tired, and I was slightly dehydrated.  After we got settled in the taxi and the driver stopped at the next light, I reached into Annie's bag to grab her pink, stainless steel, water bottle.  You know, the kind where the whole top screws off giving you a wide mouth for gulping.  As soon as I was tipping it up to my mouth, the taxi sped off, having been giving access to do so by a friendly green light.

The water didn't just dribble onto my chin and shirt.  It splashed.  All over my neck, down my shirt, back of my neck, bottom of my hair, and in my nasal passages.  I almost drowned... in a taxi... drinking from a bottle of water.  Return to the beginning where I was already uncomfortable in taxis.  Now I feel like a noob.

The next time I am quietly judging (to myself) someone who looks cautious as they are stepping on an escalator, I'll try and remember that my taxi anxiety is no less ridiculous.

I'm lying.  I'll still make fun of people scared of escalators.  What is this, 1849?
~RoB