The complete stages of getting a taxi post-night out in Glasgow
My Blue Lagoon chips are getting cold
Getting a taxi post-night out in the centre of town is a situation every Glaswegian is well acquainted with, and it’s an absolute nightmare. There’s nothing like that frantic, freezing late-night search for a free cab. Do Network ever really send someone? Do you really know who’s driving your Uber? And, unless you have some form of trust fund, can anyone really afford a Glasgow Taxi?
My own personal horror stories include walking home barefoot in the snow, paying £20 for a mile-long journey from Bamboo to Murano and having a random girl wrench open the taxi door and jump on me in desperation. So, here I give to you the comprehensive steps of your inevitable 3am taxi crisis on Bath Street.
1. The club closes
It’s 2.55am. Many shots have been consumed and you’ve spent the last hour or so lost in the eyes of what you thought was a tall dark and handsome stranger. Then, with the upping of the lights, the grim reality hits you all at once. You need to get out, fast. Cursing yourself, your drunken time-keeping and your beer goggles, you fumble through the crowd out on to the street. Every car is booked or in the process of being hailed and trying to phone for one is futile. You briefly consider throwing yourself into the arms of the stony-faced bouncer as you see your club bae scanning the crowd, presumably for you.
Whether or not you’re fleeing from a sweaty random, staying that little bit too long in the club is a recipe for the following series of disastrous events.
2. Drunk food
It’s cold, you’re hungry and Blue Lagoon is calling your name. Did someone say cheesy chips with a side of pakora and garlic mayo?
3. Aimless wandering
You, your chips and your misinformed judgement venture out on to the streets, believing that if you wander far enough, a taxi will appear. This almost always results in arguments, someone walking in bare feet and, inevitably, no taxi.
4. Phoning a friend
Hopelessness is beginning to set in. “Please. I’ll give you a tenner fuel money?” Unless your target is super generous or a member of the night time street pastors, you are unlikely to haggle them into giving you a lift.
“What’s the name?”
“Aw yeah yeah, that’s us, we booked ages ago.”
The Glasgow taxi driver is a seasoned pro at detecting if you’re lying or not. They can smell the desperation. Blagging is shameless, never really works and usually requires a return to the drawing board.
6. Return to the drawing board
Katie’s gone a weird shade of blue, Chloe’s started crying and everyone is pretty miserable. You seek shelter and reconvene to see if anyone has any new, innovative ideas. They don’t. Cue return to steps 3, 4 and 5.
Finally, your knight in shining armour, in the form of Barry and his blue Skoda Fabia, appears out of nowhere. You don’t know what kind of divine intervention brought him to you but you’re just grateful to be warm and en-route home… Until the next time that is.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.