Taxi drivers – from the comical to the ridiculous

by Maria Titizian

Published: Friday February 06, 2009 in Living in Armenia

Yerevan - As the taxi was hurtling along the winding lanes of the main highway leading into Yerevan, I could no longer control my rising anger. "Would you please slow down?" I asked a little too loudly. The Michael Schumacher wannabe finally released his lead foot from the accelerator and we slowed to a much more normal speed.

Two minutes later the driver turned to me and asked if I thought he had done something wrong. Had he committed a single traffic violation, he asked, while in the same breath informing me that he was a "first class" driver - a category harking back to the days of the Soviet Union, which for some illogical reason gets my back up.

I was so angry at his erratic speeding, that even after several minutes of calm coasting I didn't have the patience to answer his question. I did remind him that at the outset of our journey we had told him that we were in no rush and for him to drive within the speed limits. He ignored what I said and repeated his question once again. Had we not been in the middle of nowhere, I would have told him to stop the car so that I could get out.

My girlfriend, who as it turned out, was much more level-headed than I was, attempted to explain to the now irate driver that it wasn't his driving necessarily that was a concern, but that other drivers on the icy roads may not be as experienced as he, may cut in front of him, and due to the law of physics, that would increase our chances of being seriously hurt if he was driving too fast, and on and on. I stared at her rather incredulously wondering where she found the well of patience to deal with such behavior after living in Armenia for over a decade now. Instead of apologizing for speeding and making us, his paying passengers, nervous and uncomfortable, he was accusing us of being unreasonable.

Taxi drivers in Armenia are a special breed. Their cars are a completely different matter. When we first moved to Armenia, every piece of junk with four wheels had been converted into a taxi. The signs placed on top of their cars were usually imported from Turkey and read TAKS?. All taxis back then had the mandatory wool carpets, usually cheap imitations of oriental rugs, covering the seats, purportedly to protect the upholstery; but in Yerevan's sweltering summers, sitting on one of those carpets was like being burned at the stake.

I remember one time climbing into the back seat of a taxi that had been parked on a street corner. As soon as I sat, the seat sank about half a foot. It's a pretty safe bet to say that the coil springs were no longer operational. I tolerated sitting in the sagging back seat of a 1972 Russian-made Volga, with oriental carpets covering the upholstery - until about 50 flies appeared mysteriously and started buzzing around me. Thankfully, those days are for the most part over. The overriding majority of taxicabs today comply with most international standards, with a few exceptions.

The cars and any of their mechanical deficiencies are bearable in the face of cynical, opinionated, and unreasonable drivers. It's certainly not fair to lump all taxi drivers in one category; there are those who are familiar with the city and don't get lost. There are those who don't smoke when there are passengers in the car with children. There are those who don't make very primitive traffic violations, who don't speed, and who don't start driving until all passengers are safely in the car and all doors are closed.

The tendency with most cab drivers in Yerevan is to strike up a conversation with their passengers, especially if they're repats, diaspora Armenians, or tourists. The locals have learned not to engage  drivers because once they have your attention, they just don't let up.

We have a taxi company that we regularly use, and one of their drivers, Arsen, who is usually on the morning shift, picks me up from home and drives me to work. He just had his first child, a son they named Arman, who is now 7 weeks old. His wife, who is 35 and who was told by family, friends, and doctors alike that she would have a difficult delivery because of her very "advanced" age, delivered Arman in three hours flat and is doing fine. She's staying with her mother for a couple of days, because it was her mom's 60th birthday and she was feeling under the weather, so Arsen's wife went to stay with her along with the little Arman. Arsen smokes Marlboros; can't go for more then a few minutes without lighting one up; doesn't intend on being a taxi driver for the rest of his life, because the hours are long and the pay is measly. He has had three tickets in the last month, because all the traffic police are "corrupt."

Why do I know this information? Why? I don't initiate conversation with them. I just get in the car and tell them where to take me. But then they ask a question, and I hate being rude or uninterested, so I answer. Then they make a comment about a driver or a pedestrian, or a past presidential candidate, and then they have me in their hooks. And then I end up knowing everything about drivers like Arsen, his seven-week-old son, his 35-year-old wife who had him in three hours flat, and on and on.

The most comical thing about Armenian taxi drivers in Yerevan is their cynicism. I have yet to come across a driver who is more or less content with his life. Nope. Nothing doing. It was better during the Soviet years, one older taxi driver was telling my son and me one day. Everybody lived like princes. We never had to worry about anything. What is this now? We have to pay for electricity, water, gas! Who ever heard of such a thing? We could go to the Black Sea for two weeks for 50 rubles. That was the life.

I try not to get engaged, but how can I remain silent when someone says things like that? Don't you think that's the reason that the Soviet Union collapsed, I ask. Bah! he says and in the same breath continues, You know, Levon wasn't as bad as they are telling you he was. I don't know what the anti-­Soviet activist Levon Ter-Petrossian had to do with living better in the Soviet years, but I guess he felt he had to show his support for the former president of Armenia.