Missed Flights:


I called a cab company and scheduled a pick-up for 4pm on Saturday. We were flying out of Newark NJ. It’s quite a small airport so we didn’t need to be there a full two hours ahead of departure time. The drive was supposed to take 35 minutes from my apartment to our drop-off at terminal B. At 4:05, I called the cab company to ask why they were late in picking us up. The dispatcher had our chauffeur call back on his cell phone to tell us his location. I honestly had no idea what the Indian driver was saying, so we waited around for him to get there. After 30 minutes, we were about to take a different cab. Just then, our guy showed up.

We scorned him for being 40 minutes late and told him that he needed to step on it. His GPS said that we would be arriving into the airport with 40 minutes until departure time. Approaching the New Jersey tunnel, we hit traffic. The GPS arrival time jumped to 30 minutes before departure. People were supposed to merge under the tunnel, but our driver didn’t understand this concept. Our driver was trying to cut off a man, blasting very ghetto music, in a red escalade. We heard the man shout, “Are you kidding me?!” Our cab drove by and scraped the front of the escalade. The guy behind flailed his arms, and I honestly thought we were about to get shot.

After this hit and run, the three of us in the back seat became skeptical of our driver’s credibility. He began bypassing the routes that his GPS told him to take. At first we just assumed that he knew of a shorter way to get to the airport, so we sat quietly though our lives were in this man’s hands. The GPS arrival time was now 10 minutes before my flight departed. At a light, the driver rolled down his window and asked a woman, “Where Newark?” This was the moment we realized our driver had no clue as to what was going on. I had to take matters into my own hand as my sister called our mom crying. She began searching for later departure options.

I loaded the directions to the airport onto my phone and began yelling the directions to the driver. I said to turn left, and he turned right. The man did not know the difference. I roared, “NO,” because he couldn’t understand anything else. He screeched to a stop and the following car ran into our tailgate—the second minor accident caused by our incapable driver. In the middle of the road, he got out to yell at the guy behind, “What da hell! You crazy man!” Us three in the back seat began screaming at our cabby to get back into the car. There was no time for his foreign babbling because he was going to cause us to miss our flight.

I ended up having to point in the direction that we needed to go because this idiot didn’t know his lefts and rights. We managed to arrive at the airport at 5:59. I was unable to make my fight, but the two girls made theirs with 5 minutes to spare. I was left on the curb with all the bags, and a dead phone. The cabby got out and looked at me with his hands placed firmly on his hips. He was waiting for me to pay him our travel fare. I think I almost growled at him as I made the meanest face I’ve ever made. I told him there was no way in hell I was paying him. This psycho almost killed us several times with his inability to signal/drive, had us all sobbing in the back seat of his car, caused me to miss my flight, and still wanted money?! This loser shook his head at me as he got back in his car and drove away.


Alena Netia Horowitz

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