A faint light comes into view at the other end of Granville Street, and I find myself leaping into the road. It’s 3 a.m. on a Sunday, cold air biting at my feet. I need a cab.
The previously halted cars rush by, strokes of taxicab yellow, and I awkwardly fling my arms into the air. In front of me, five different groups of people appear to do the same. Three partygoers gurgle with pleasure near by. Two women, wearing ripped nylons, flick their cigarettes into the sky and spew profanities at the passing cars.
My breath materializes into a mutant cloud in front of me. Then it disappears.
Cabs speed by like yellow bullets. Not one stops. Shadows can be seen moving behind the fogged-up windows. My legs quake. The robot voice on the other end of the phone encourages me to “hold on”, a taxi representative will speak to me soon, it’s faster this way, and to not drink and drive.
40 minutes crawl by.
I wait. I wave. I walk. I sit.
I turn around and walk two blocks. A bus is waiting. I get closer. It’s not my bus. I wait. Another bus arrives. I stand up. I enter. I sit.
Is it normal, expected for high-demand Vancouver cabs to be so unavailable on a Saturday night (technically early Sunday morning), especially when SkyTrain stops running after a certain hour?
Thoughts are welcomed and appreciated.
Let’s vent it out, together.