What struck me first about the taxi was how spacious it was.
“You like?” the taxi driver asked. “I did some custom work to it.” And then his eyes twinkled and then he added, “And check this out.” Then he pushed a button and a LCD screen drifted down in front of the passenger side window. Instantly on the screen showed the logo “DVD”.
“What kind of van is this?”
“A Renault.”
I blew out a breath. “I didn’t know Renaults made vans like this. Very impressive for a French car.”
“They don’t. I totally redesigned it all. It sucked before.” And he laughed. He started fiddling with the dash. “I must apologize but all I have is Indian music videos.”
“No problem,” I said. And it was true once the slick, very polished Bollywood produced music videos started playing with their perfect Indian female singers – and their wonderfully epic choreographed moves – I was mesmerized like a three year old watching a Disney movie.
The taxi driver had given me his mobile number the day before and I told him that I would always use him when I came to Malaysia. So I called him to take me to the airport at 7 pm.
In the middle of a late afternoon monsoon he arrived promptly at 7 PM in front of the JW Marriott regardless of the traffic jam outside the hotel.
He was very fluent in English and it seemed like we just “connected”. Reminded me of my high school barber in Alabama.
“So what are you?” I asked after getting comfortable.
He laughed loudly. “I am full 100% Taliban!” And he laughed even louder.
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