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Hoorah for the Taxi Driver!

New Year’s Eve is normally tainted by the inevitable end of the night quest for a taxi, but not so this year for Al…

Published on January 5th 2007.


Hoorah for the Taxi Driver!

We all know the feeling. It’s two in the morning, and you’ve had a skinful. Your stomach’s like a washing machine, your head feels like someone’s dancing on it, your ears are ringing and your contact lenses seem permanently attached to your eyeballs. All you want to do is climb into a taxi and get the hell to bed before you have your dinner in reverse.

And so begins the task of seeking out one of those black chariots. It’s no mean feat, as anyone will tell you. Like a UN weapons inspector, you uselessly search around in the vain hope that one will pull up alongside you and beep his horn.

The taxi ranks have got queues bigger than the Next sale, and when you do finally see one with the orange light on, you begin frantically waving your arms about and whistling like one man and his dog at the special Olympics, while he calmly picks up the bloke ten feet down the street from you. Enraged, you feel like you’d bite someone’s nose off just to secure your trip safely home.

So as I made my way into town for my New Year’s extravaganza last week, the whole getting home part of the evening was bothering me already. After singing Auld Lang Syne with a cracking meal in Room, our little party made our way to Manchester 235 at about quarter to two. Imagine my surprise when I counted no less than eight taxis sitting idly on Peter Street (no I wasn’t seeing double by that point). How strange, thought I, almost deciding to go home there and then. But no, I wasn’t done yet, I had drunken gambling to do!

Leaving 235 at about 4.30am, heavier of booze but a little lighter of wonga, I dreaded to think how we were going to get home. Several of our group couldn’t quite walk in a straight line, let alone the 5 miles or so back to my house, and I didn’t think Jayne’s floor could cope with us all. I walked to Deansgate… crossed my fingers… gripped my lucky rabbit’s foot… and waited…

…for about thirty seconds. Yes, it’s true, one of those wonderful boys behind the wheel rolled up within moments, and beckoned me in like I was an old friend. Glancing up, I noticed he wasn’t alone. There were taxis everywhere! It was like that Carlsberg advert come true, it really had to be seen to be believed.

So I’m here to say thank you boys, thank you for abstaining from the falling down juice, and delivering us home safe and sound. I’m sure you made a killing (I can’t even remember how much you charged us), but who cares, it was wonderful to see so many orange lights when usually there are none. Now, what are the chances a few more of you could make it out on every other Friday and Saturday of the year?!

Alastair McCall

Did anybody have a similar experience on New Year’s Eve? Did you notice an unusually high amount of taxis in the city centre? Leave your comments in the form below…

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Comments and rants below.
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It wasnt the fact that there were more taxis but the fact that the City Centre was one of the quietest New Years Eves ever!! Many people decided to have house parties than brave the weather/long queues/high prices/inability to get to the bar!!

P Iggy

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Yeah there was lots of taxi's some trying to charge triple prices you naughty taxi men!! and you should of seen them drive really fast away from me when I said I from the council, £31.00 for 6 mile journey they certainly were trying it on and its a shame they feel it necessary to try and rip people off !!

Anonymous (contact details provided)

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I stumbled out of Manchester 235 in the early hours of New Years' day morning and two turned up outside straight away, it was like they had come just for me and my friends! Though it did cost us £10 just to get to the kebab place in the Northern Quarter...

Anonymous (contact details provided)

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