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I'm young, smart and sexy. While I get a little shaky outside of city limits, I know Portland really well. I know the fastest way to get you somewhere, and I know the cheapest way (they aren't always the same thing). I can have an intelligent conversation on almost any topic. I've lived in eight different American cities, and visited many others. My Spanish is passable. I can take you to a sushi bar you'll love. I can also take you to a strip bar you'll love.
I have the coolest business card in town. I do interesting things with my spare time. I've got a good book in the passenger seat and am listening to good music. I can make you laugh, and/or I can give good advice. You will like me, you will like the job I do, and you will tip me well.
I am, in short, the shit.
I have also missed this gentleman's turn.
He's one of the premier development economists in the country, and we've been having a fascinating conversation about the autism of the neo-classical economic model. And I just missed the turn off of Columbia that will save him some money on the way to the airport.
So now we're taking a longer route, and I'm no longer quite the hot shit young pseudo-intellectual. I sheepishly tell him that I'll only charge him what the fare would've been if I hadn't screwed up, but the conversation's gone, and the tip's not great.
—nightcabbie@wweek.com
WWeek 2015