Posted by: nastypen | January 31, 2007

The Strangest Taxi Ride Home Ever

I don’t have the greatest relationships with Metro Manila taxi drivers. I lambast them in my strips. I immensely distrust them. I think they should be whipped with barbed wires for asking extra when their taxis smell like gym socks.

However, there are some cab drivers that stop me at my tracks. Like there was this one old cabbie who has a diwata (fairy) friend who sits on a rock by the river. Or this cab who used to be a driver for a politician.

I had the most surreal taxi ride home last night. I wasn’t feeling well and I decided to ditch the gym. I hailed a cab and the hoped they will take me in because I just wanted to go home. A beat up red cab stopped and I opened the door, out of habit, I told the driver where to take me before jumping in. The cab driver made a face and agreed.

I sat comfortably up front decided just to get this cab ride over with, go home, play with Onyx and go to sleep. The cab looked at me and assumed I was a student of this rich kids’ school near where I hailed the cab. I just smiled. Don’t want to rectify. He further pushed on said that I look like I enjoy eating “hamboorjherrz.”

Ugh…I thought not another cab driver who will make running commentaries on how I weigh. Yet, he rattled on and on about how it is great to eat and that I am living my life the way he would have liked it. He then proceeded that he likes meat on his women. I raised an eyebrow thinking “What a nice segue…from my body image to the women he would like to f*ck.”

He rattled on and on about how he likes big boobs and all that “more cushion for the pushin'” jazz. He looked at me and smiled and said that I can have as many women as I want with my looks and before I could correct him he said that a lot of women like to have teddy bears like me. That I’m so lucky to be me.

Now, this guy talks a mile a minute. He is like rapping. He is like one of those beat poets, but without the pretense, he just rattled on and on like an uzi. I did not speak much with him around. His conversations became more intense.

Speaking of big boobs, he remembered in the 80s how he could watch the toro (live sex show) for free because the gay manager has a crush on him. He told me that this scrawny dude had such a big dick and the lady had such great boobs. Yet, he was disappointed that the lady was embarrassed and did not moan and shudder in pleasure. Probably it’s all those dozens of men watching her having sex may have hindered the pleasure principle I thought. The cab driver told me of the machinations of the toro. One cannot holler and whoot as the show goes on. They live sex couple would change positions throughout showing their acrobatic skills. The audience can, however, whisper what they want to see. The audience cannot jerk off while the show is going on. “That’s sick,” the taxi driver opines. If you want to get off, there were the bathrooms for that where they could be some ladies waiting to service you.

The cab driver resigned to the fact that the good old days are gone. That there are no more toro shows in the city. If there were, the places would be too dangerous. He told me of the year and it was during the Marcos era. And I wonder why a lot of people think it was the glory years of the country.

He said jerking off in the presence of other people is sick in the ehad. Then he paused and muttered, “Well, in Manila City Jail, we would stare out the windows and if we see beautiful women walk by, we jerk off.”

As we approached Makati’s huge south cemetary, he said he was imprisoned for seven years….for murder. This is the part when I absolutely called on my poker face powers. I wanted to get off the cab run away screaming as my instincts would have told me to do s. But I just stayed put.

He stabbed a man with an ice pick. That man so happens to be the son of a policeman. I mean you just can’t make this stuff up. Ok, you can. But fiction or not, it was a fascinating story nonetheless.

He said his victim had it coming. The son of the policeman was abusive. He would kick the children sitting by the streets. He would forcefully get the money collected for cara y cruz (card game) sessions at wakes. The cab driver said, “He was being tough. So he and I fought. he didn’t run away when he could. I got an ice pick and stabbed him. I didn’t take out the ice pick when I knew I got him in the heart. And I knew he was dead, I took out the ice pick. I didn’t run away. I waited for the barangay tanod to collect me and throw me in jail.”

Silence equals me praying that he does not have an ice pick in the cab.

He said, “You know if you want to kill someone, the ice pick is the best weapon.”

I was just wondering how he got only seven years for murder. He said he has a cousin who finished law and he told the courts of a move for rehabilitation. The cab driver was plucked from the hell hole that is the Manila City Jail and moved into the military-camp style prison somewhere south.

He said life there was routine and that he almost went mad from the withdrawals. This is the point where he decided to tell me that he was a drug user. He said after a laundry list of drug activities he indulged, “Formula 44? Just one bottle of that and you’re high. i would usually watch Rambo films when I’m high because the gun shots and the explosions are great when you’re high. If the high is weakening, I would drink beer to prolong the woozyness.”

He said in the rehab center, you are seen as powerful if you got transferred from the Manila City Jail. There were actors and sons of rich families and politicians in that facility doing work like scrubbing the floors, cleaning the toilets. He even mentioned one actor who was caught selling drugs but got off after one year for good conduct and the fact that a very powerful movie producer offered him a job.

He said that the facility next to the rehab center was a maximum security jail. There were no conjugal visits there, ergo prison sex was rampant. He looked at me and snickered, “Think twice if you want to commit a crime, you’ll be a popular prison bitch. they like good looking guys there with smooth skin.”


He said that the mestizo inmates have had a queue of guys wanting to do the love that dares not speak its name up their ass in that prison facility. “The prison big shots find it hot,” he says, “and they do it everynight, even among themsleves. Palitan sila. (They do it intervals), you do me and I do you.” he shook his head. “That is pretty weird. I mean you are not a man now if you let them do that to you. You should ready to strike and kill.” this is the part he made stabbing gestures while driving and me stifling a whimper.

We passed by the Powerplant mall and he grunted, “Those rich people there! they think they’re so good! They look at me when they hail a cab. They judge me. Sometimes, I want to stab them. I want to go back to jail. I miss it, you know. sometimes i wake up and still think I’m in jail. But those people! They think they’re better than me. I’ll stab ’em if I get the chance and if I lose it.”

I laughed and said, “Please don’t stab me. I have plans for nexxt month.”

He smiled and touched my arm, “No. You’re educated. You’re nice. You didn’t flinch at my story of my past. You smiled at me. I won’t stab you.”

I got off and had to lean on the wall to catch my breath.

Moral of the story: Smile at Metro Manila Cab drivers, you never know if they ice picks and with criminal records.



  1. Bro Bear, I would be frightened if I were in your place. I do judge taxi drivers by their appearance. Hay. You should either take driving lessons na and get yourself a car or buy a car and get yourself a chauffeur. Dapat and driver mo walang criminal record. Hehehe

  2. My gosh, I had a similar experience with a taxi driver myself! Only this guy wasn’t a murderer, but a Philippine president wannabe. He had a whole platform planned, and he favored the abolishment of Congress and the judiciary, replacing it with a jury-type system that plucked 70- to 80-year-olds to investigate and process the cases. When I asked him who would shoulder the costs of investigation, he said, ‘pag-usapan iyan pag presidente na ako.’ Most of the questions I asked were answered with that: ‘pag-usapan iyan pag presidente na ako.’

    He claimed to have his entire platform and constitution in his head, not writing it down because someone else might take credit for it.

    Hello, Manila Sanitarium? Yeah, one guy dug himself out of his cell with a spoon…

  3. Hmmm. Ahk. I admire your beauty queen composure. I doubt if even Gloria Diaz herself could have kept her cool in such a situation. Bravo!

  4. omg! that is so… weird.. graveh. LOL. baka kung ako ang nandun na stab na ako. Hahahahaha. anyway, i have a friend, namimili din sya ng taxi driver, hindi para masigurong safe sya, gusto nya gwapo at may potential i-booking. he even contracted throat gonorrhea because of that. eewww. 🙂

  5. oh my God!!! that’s a very scary story. psycho taxi cab driver… he wants to kill all the rich people in powerplant mall… grabe. thank God you got out of the cab safe.

  6. buy a car na kasi!!!!

  7. my strategy? i begin the blabbing…and interviewing…and some more blabbing…until i get a non-verbal cue that the driver NEEDS me to stop. however, there are some cab drivers who have really interesting stories to tell. i end up giving them a tip. believe it or not, it gave me the idea of starting a new blog to feature my conversations with strangers. whatever happened to that idea? hmmmm.

    did you see our pics, mare?

  8. may nagtutok na sa akin ng icepick before.

    hindi siya masayang maranasan.

  9. Lesson learned huh? Basta be careful. Choose a cab or call those cab companies that picks you up. Even though there’s extra charge, I’d rather pay that extra than get stabbed or die of nervous breakdown.

    Be very careful. Kalokah!

  10. wow, scary… but interesting and exciting at the same time! miss ko na sumakay ng taxi. mahal taxi dito sa japan. *sigh*

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