The “crazy night” in Gazi that I referenced in my last blog was capped off by an unsettling event. When taking a taxi home early this morning (the metro system had closed around 1 am, so we had no choice), the driver requested 20 euros for the ride back; a bit pricy, but we were willing to pay the high fee in order to get back to our apartments safely.
Little would I know that the price for our ride would triple in amount. After handing him the twenty, the driver quickly pretended to count the money, thereafter showing me a 5 euro bill instead of the original 20. He then said something along the lines of “More money...” (the language barrier was particularly thick in this case). I was confused, checking my wallet to see if I had mistaken and replaced the 20 that I swore I gave him with a smaller bill. Trusting that I was the one that made the mistake, I handed him a 50 euro bill, thinking that this was a good way to break the otherwise large piece of currency. When he uttered “Smaller bills”, I decided that I would have to get out my two 10s that I was saving for lunch and dinner the following day, yet when I reached over to exchange these bills for my 50, it was gone. He claimed throughout the car ride that I never gave it to him, though I could see a piece of it sticking out of a glove box by the driver’s seat.
Needless to say, I spend the rest of the car ride sulking in anger; I have never felt so upset at any public employee in my life. Realizing that I had just been scammed 70 euro, I ran through my options in my head:
1. Call him out on it (which I did indirectly) - with the language barrier, this would be to no avail.
2. Reach over and grab the 50 that I thought I saw - this could disrupt his driving and even lead to a physical altercation.
3. Sit in silence - Our main concern was getting home safely. This would be the only option that wouldn’t jeopardize this priority.
I chose option 3. I woke up this morning and I stared at the ceiling (knowing that you’ve been scammed doesn’t exactly motivate you to get out of bed), replaying the entire event in my head, and after fifteen minutes, I was able to crack the slightest of grins. I could think of three possible explanations that helped justify the incident:
1. The driver needed the money more than I do - Stealing is never okay, no matter how much you need the money, however I felt some of the pain fade when I entertained the idea that my money could be going to something worthwhile, like food or clothes for the driver’s family. In reality, I might have burned the money on trivial souvenir junk or something like that. Although I would much rather purchase something than have an equivalent amount of money taken from me in such a belittling action, the end result (of obtaining no object of significant emotional, spiritual, or physical value) is nearly the same.
2. This was a learning experience - I had never had to pay for a taxi before. Looking back (and after reading countless websites that reference this exact scam and ways to guard against it), I should never have given him the money before the meter started, regardless of whether he asked for it or not. This was me playing the ignorant American tourist. I also learned that we place an extraordinary amount of trust in people like taxi drivers; it’s his word against mine, and considering that we are in a place where his word is in the native language, mine didn’t stand a chance.
3. A little “spice” for my life - Just as we go around sightseeing and exploring, unforgettable experiences don’t have to come in a cookie-cutter mold that traditional tourists drool over. And who says these experiences have to make you happy? I like to think that this taxi ride added something significantly more unconventional (albeit for a pretty steep price) to my trip than anything I had experienced yet. Yes, I felt dumb and furious afterwards, and though I am still slightly upset, I need to keep reminding myself what this trip would be like without a little extra “spice”.
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