This captivating part of the world has served up some pretty amazing experiences since I arrived here a few short years ago—from the majesty of the sun setting over the Pacific to my first encounter with Ranch Dressing but nothing prepared me for my most memorable and surprising experience to date—a ride in a clean cab.
I've used cabs in cities all over the world but my senses have always been challenged in Vancouver cabs. At best, it's an unpleasant variation on the multi-ethnic experience—like being verbally assaulted by a group of Peruvians at the Bangladeshi celebration for Welsh war vets. At worse, it's proof that aromatherapy works both ways. Close your eyes and inhale, it's like a game of Name that Flavour—chicken tikka, Marlboro Lights or armpits—armpits that haven't had any meaningful interaction with soap since The Beatles.
Cab companies should offer a choice when a customer calls. "Hello, I'd like to order a cab". "Very good sir. We have beef burrito, lamb korma or this week's special—stale beer and Yorkshire pudding..." Marketing companies could use cabs to launch new product lines by simply flooding the back of the cab with an aroma, accompanied by appetizing background music.
Longer trips can be hell. The judicial system should take a look at introducing a custodial sentence that involves incarcerating suspects in cabs and driving them back and forward across town until they confess. Pilot schemes have been in operation for years—notorious murderer Elmer Laidlaw, interrogated for months in a police cell suddenly confessed to multiple homicides when he was threatened with a cab ride to Vancouver Airport. When he heard that the car was a hybrid, he confessed to murders that hadn't yet been committed.
When I finally reached my destination, I complimented my driver on the cleanliness of his cab but stopped short of telling him he smelled nice.
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