A contrast in cabs

Back to work as usual after my weekend in Kola Kinabalu. The last day was nice and peaceful, although I got a tad lost on my way to the beach. I apparently zigged and should have zagged and wound up walking about 15 minutes down the wrong road.

Except for the nasty blister on my pinkie toe, it was no harm, no foul, though. I eventually found the beach and got comfy on a big piece of wood and read a Dave Baldacci novel.

The flight back went all right, even though checking in was a nightmare and I sat in the very last row of the plane. My assigned seat was the middle, but there was no one to my left so I moved to the aisle.

Normally, I like to sit in the front and I don’t know how I got back there but I had been a bit concerned that I’d get tangled up trying to get off and then get stuck at customs and immigration, delayed, etc. The fear was because the flight has gotten in really late before and caused people to be late for work the next day. (KK is a popular destination for colleagues.) For me in particular, I had a meeting at 9 a.m., so I was a little worried that something would go wrong and I’d get in at 2 a.m. and oversleep, or something.

But the flight was fine, and then the waters just parted for me to get out. I’d spaced out and forgotten where I was flying into, I guess. Chinese residents returning home tend to come back loaded with stuff that they cannot get in the country (sounds weird, I know) and therefore people from the 30 rows in front of me were still gathering their stuff as I weaved in and out with only my backpack.

Then, in the terminal, the moving sidewalks work to my advantage because I tend to walk on them and not just stand. For some reason, they’re considered rides here, as are escalators. Signage in many stores tells people to stand and not move on the escalators, and for whatever reason, people just stand on the moving sidewalks as well.

Not me. I went through the terminal, kind of picking my spots to weave around (since everyone stands, there’s no clear passing lane) or just bypassing the moving thing and walking – my normal pace is faster than those things.

So I got through to immigration (diplomats use the “special lane”) fairly quickly and ran out to catch a cab home.

The cab stand, the legit one, is in a fixed place and you go and get in line and wait your turn, which isn’t bad at all. But of course, there are taxi hawkers everywhere, assaulting the non-Asian looking people as soon as they walk out the gates.

“Taxi?” “Where you go?” “Miss, need taxi?”

And no amount of shaking your head stops them. They just keep coming. (Note: this is not China-specific. Jakarta was horrific.)

So, after two head shakes and people still physically coming at me, I stuck my arms out, literally pushing them away.

This gained me a chorus of “oohhs,” though I am not sure why. Leave me alone and let me get an honest driver to take me home.

And I did. But the cab was far, far more boring than the one I’d taken upon arrival in KK.

Holy cow. I’d gotten in at 3:30 a.m., and followed the hotel’s instructions to go to the legit taxi stand’s desk, pay in advance and get a ticket to my destination.

Exited the airport to the cab stand itself and was motioned into the lead cab.

Oh my. OK, it was in the wee hours of the morning, but I don’t think I was dreaming. The cab looked like a normal cab from outside, but from inside, it was party central.

I’m not even sure I can accurately describe it, but it was a totally pimped out ride. The interior – and I mean all of the interior, ceilings and walls included – were upholstered like a leather sofa. By that I mean they had the patterns of leather-like material that were buttoned down every few inches, creating those little pockets that normally gather dust.

Does that even make sense? It really didn’t in a cab, especially on the ceiling. I mean, I can handle seat-like material on seats, even if it seemed weird in a car. But dark navy leather-like pillow coverings all over the ceiling and walls of a car? Totally bizarre.

Kind of like this, in navy. All over the cab.

Coming off the dash, there were several placards that said things like “VIP” or “party.”

The stick shift had some kind of diamond-looking topper on it.

The dome light would have been amazing had it have been a disco ball, but it wasn’t quite that. Instead, it looked like a crown. Yeah, I know, you’re thinking all dome lights somewhat resemble crowns, aren’t you? Well, this sucker was about six inches across, too. It was a lighted crown, not a solid circle light.

But the best part – the part that I really thought I was hallucinating – was  that at two points during the drive (I think we were going slow and he was shifting a certain way), little beads of rainbow light came shooting out of the dash, pulsating in time to the music. They kind of fanned out in a light display kind of way, dancing on the leather-like pillowish ceiling and walls and reflecting off the dome light.

By all outward appearances, it was a normal white cab. But oh my gosh, it was so utterly bizarre inside. The cab driver spoke no English, so I couldn’t ask him about it, but I couldn’t help but wonder what else that cab was used for.