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I've had my fair share of uncomfortable commutes. Drivers often get too friendly to the point that they become intrusive. I've been asked numerous times whether I am single, or if I have a boyfriend, all those questions that feel borderline inappropriate.
I've never been the snobbish type and I'm scared of responding in any way that might put me into more harm. I often get haunted by the story of that girl who tried to ignore a stranger's intrusive question and ended up getting stabbed multiple times. The madman even smirked at her while plunging the knife into her stomach. God! How horrible.
So what I do every time I board a taxi and the driver gets too personal? I make up stories. Sometimes I tell them I married with two kids, other times I tell them my husband is a police officer. There are times when I pretend to be calling my non-existent husband to tell him I'm on the way.
I have carried numerous names along the process. Most of the time, I go by the name Jane, cause it's closer to my actual name Janice. Some drivers just wouldn't stop bugging me no matter how much I try to look uninterested with conversations.
"They won't remember me anyway," I often tell myself. I was wrong.
One time I took another taxi on the way home. I noticed the driver looking at me through the rearview mirror as I settled inside. I just didn't mind him.
He asked where I was going and I gave him the address.
"Where did you come from?" he suddenly asked as we rush through traffic.
"I'm sorry?," I answered, confused.
"What were you doing there in Labangon?"
"Oh, I visited a friend," which was true. But why would you care? Duh.
He continued traversing through the traffic and I tried to look busy with my phone.
My home is still an hour away and I'm starting to feel so uncomfortable.
The traffic is worst during those hours in Cebu.
As I glanced up, I saw him looking at me through the rearview mirror again. The taillight from the nearby car allowed me to see his bloodshot eyes. Why are they so red? Is he doing drugs? Am I in trouble?
I tried to remain calm. My mom has always warned me about some taxi drivers using drugs to stay awake for their 24-hour shift.
"What is your name again?" he asked, bringing me back to reality. He hasn't asked for my name since the trip yet.
" Kim," I lied using the first name that popped up into my head.
"But you said your name is Jane?"
I froze. Have I ridden this taxi before?
"My complete name is Kimberly Jane, wow! How did you know?" , I answered, covering a lie with another.
I'm not sure if he bought the lies, but he didn't ask further questions about my name.
The ride seems to take forever and I was very tempted to just get out of the taxi. Unfortunately, it was the rush hour and it would take me forever to get a new ride home.
"You live near the hall right?"
"Uhm, yes?" God, he even knows my exact location? How could he remember? I'm sure I'm not his only passenger in his entire life. He should've forgotten it by now.
My phone was basically useless, I had no cellular data, no-load credits. Nothing.
He turned to a dark corner towards our area. The road is usually deserted, making me feel more nervous.
I was holding my breath the entire time, getting ready to jump out of the cab should he do anything wrong.
Suddenly my phone ring, my friend called me to check if I already arrived.
The call was a life-saver and I answered it more enthusiastically than I should.
I saw the driver throwing occasional glances at me from time to time. I tried to keep my friend on the line as long as possible.
At last, we finally arrived! I paid the taxi the fare amount, thanked him (I don't even know why), then jumped out of the cab as fast as I could.
It's been 3 years since I arrived home safe that night.