You Can't Stop the Music

We have added Croatia to the list. Having acquired Portugal and Croatia this trip, Linda now lacks only 64 regions recognized as countries by the United Nations before she completes her official Global Domination Bingo card.

Dubrovnik turned out to be a really pretty place -- wonderful harbor, picturesque Old Town. The weather was warm, the crowds were few. We had fun. I will load pictures tomorrow on Shutterfly and put the link in the next post.

In the taxi on the way back to the ship we were subjected to some music that sounded like a bad Nashville backup group trying to cope without the steel guitar while three drunk guys and one very drunk woman sing nonsense words at the top of their lungs.

"Croatian music," said the driver, turning to see if we were impressed by the native noise.

"Very nice," said Linda in her most insincere voice. "Is it new or old music?"

Now those of us who spent most of our lives being polite and lying to clients have learned that Rule No 1 is to never embellish and never ask additional questions about the topic. So it is to Linda's credit that she didn't know this rule. It is to her discredit that she didn't know it, as well.

The taxi driver thought about Linda's question and pointed to the radio/CD player of the car. "Yah," he said. "Say day."

Having trapped herself in this extraneous conversation, Linda tried her best with a knowing "Mmmmmmm," in reply.

At which point the driver looked mildly exasperated and punched the eject button of the player. Taking out the CD (and mercifully stopping the native music) he showed it to Linda. "Say day," he said, as one might to a puppy that had peed on the carpet one too many times.

"Oh, CD!" said Linda. "Yes. New!" she said.

The driver put the CD back in the player, but did not hit play. He also did not take us to our destination, leaving us off quite short of our destination. While other passengers' taxis were whizzing past us on their way to the ship, we were walking along the pier wondering what we had done wrong so our driver wouldn't take us all the way.

"We both nodded enthusiastically and told him we loved the music," I said.

"He knew we were insincere," Linda said. "Taxi drivers can spot that a mile away. Next time it happens, we have to really look like we enjoy the music."

I don't know if this sort of moment is likely to come around a second time, and I certainly hope it doesn't. But I do agree with her general premise. Taxi drivers are pretty good at figuring out when you're just trying to take them for a ride.