The 'Taxi Driver'
Since we're here, I might as well tell you about the 'taxi driver.' All the guidebooks say that the Termini train station in Rome is a haven for pickpockets, and at the airport, con men will pose as taxi drivers. So when we arrived in Rome's train station from Venice, the boys and I and our five heavy bags headed straight for the taxi stand. Right in front of the first car, there's this little old man. I say 'Taxi?' He says 'Where you going?' I tell him, and he says that's right around the corner. 'I take you.' Then he points to this huge dolly/hand truck thing.
Then I understand, he wants to shlep our bags to the hotel in this hand truck. How much? 10 euro. I know that's more than the taxi ride would cost but I'm intrigued. I know the hotel really is close by, so I say OK. He throws the bags onto the cart and starts moving, fast. It's a kind of grimy scene, and the kids and I are racing to keep up with him. For the first few hundred feet, I'm afraid he's going to disappear with the bags. But then I realize this guy is serious. He starts crossing into traffic, dragging us with him. The cars are stopping. He's charging through the Piazza de la Republicca, a large intersection/traffic circle full of cars.
Then I start asking him questions. He says he's 60 years old and has been carrying bags at the train station for 23 years. I see he has a pack of cigarettes in his pocket. I tell him he shouldn't be smoking. He tells me, 'Is no problem.' I tell him, 'Not yet.'
When we get to the hotel, he tells me it's going to be 15 euros. 'But you said 10.' 'Is far.' I don't have change so I have to go to the snack bar across the street. He lights up and waits for me. When I get back he takes the money and shakes all of our hands. 'Ciao.'
Then I understand, he wants to shlep our bags to the hotel in this hand truck. How much? 10 euro. I know that's more than the taxi ride would cost but I'm intrigued. I know the hotel really is close by, so I say OK. He throws the bags onto the cart and starts moving, fast. It's a kind of grimy scene, and the kids and I are racing to keep up with him. For the first few hundred feet, I'm afraid he's going to disappear with the bags. But then I realize this guy is serious. He starts crossing into traffic, dragging us with him. The cars are stopping. He's charging through the Piazza de la Republicca, a large intersection/traffic circle full of cars.
Then I start asking him questions. He says he's 60 years old and has been carrying bags at the train station for 23 years. I see he has a pack of cigarettes in his pocket. I tell him he shouldn't be smoking. He tells me, 'Is no problem.' I tell him, 'Not yet.'
When we get to the hotel, he tells me it's going to be 15 euros. 'But you said 10.' 'Is far.' I don't have change so I have to go to the snack bar across the street. He lights up and waits for me. When I get back he takes the money and shakes all of our hands. 'Ciao.'
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