World Cup Diary 2 July: "Taxi" for the taxi driver

World Cup Diary / Jonathan Wilson / 02 July 2010 / Leave a comment Free £25 Bet

A passable pizza that just about made up for the most farcical cab ride in history

Jonathan Wilson tells us about the taxi ride from hell in his bid to meet up with fellow betting.betfair World Cup diarist Dave Farrar...

That’s like being in Oxford and not knowing Jericho. Like being in Manchester and not knowing Salford Quays. Like being in Sunderland and not knowing Roker. Like... you get the idea. Like asking somebody to point to their elbow and have them say “hmmm, el....bow? ellllll..... bowwww?”

So I left the hicksville sanctuary of Rustenburg yesterday for the heaving metropolis, and decided that it was high time I met up with Betfair's other diarist, Dave, for a meal last night. It was a meeting fraught with frustrations, firstly as Dave was held up by Mick Jagger's agent, and then as I underestimated the idiocy of Johannesburg's taxi drivers. The more time you spend abroad, the more you appreciate London's cabbies.

The first two I rang didn't turn up. The first said she wasn't "good on times" when I asked how long it would be; the second seemed aggrieved, snapping "we don't have any cabs in your area" when I rang up asking why the cab she'd promised would arrive 15 minutes
earlier hadn't turned up. At least the third one did show up, even if he proved to be the thickest bloke ever to sit behind a wheel.

Things didn't get off to a great start when he rang Rabson, the deskman at my guest house, to say he was on Grant Avenue and ask for directions. That's fair enough; the guest house is on Nursery Road, a small street off Grant Avenue. Rabson, very clearly, told him to drive down the hill towards the mall and to turn left once he'd gone past Faff restaurant. It really couldn't have been easier. Five minutes later, the cab called back, further away than when he'd called the first time. It took another 20 minutes and six further phone call before Rabson, haranguing him both in English and a local language, got him close enough to Nursery Road that we could see him and wave
him in.

I'd arranged to meet Dave about 45 minutes earlier on Seventh Street in Melville. Melville is about 15 minutes from Norwood, where I'm staying, and Seventh Street is a major road of restaurants and bars. Getting a cab there from Norwood is like taking a cab from, say, Finsbury Park to Upper Street in Islington (my apologies to non-metropolitan readers; for those in Newcastle, like going from Benton to Osborne Road in Jesmond; for those anywhere else, just imagine a really incredibly simple journey).

The driver didn't know where Melville was. "Hmmm, Mell... ville? Mellll...villlle?"

That's like being in Oxford and not knowing Jericho. Like being in Manchester and not knowing Salford Quays. Like being in Sunderland and not knowing Roker. Like... you get the idea. Like asking somebody to point to their elbow and have them say "hmmm, el....bow? ellllll..... bowwww?"

"Is it near Auckland Park?" he asked. I had no idea. I reminded him he was the cabbie; me the tourist.

He radioed for help. "Let's go to Auckland Park and find the way from there," he said.

"Let's not," I said.

I asked if he had a map. Eventually he admitted that he did, and got it out of the boot. I looked up Seventh Street, looked up the street we'd drifted onto, and found it was just over the page. I started navigating.

Even then it was a nightmare, like dealing with a slow and stubborn remote control. "Left at the next junction... left... left!.. LEFT!!...LEFT!!!! Stop. Stop! STOP!! STOOOOPPPPP!!!!! Turn round. Round. Right. TURN THE CAR RIGHT!" Eventually I arrived, 75 minutes late. Dave, bless his patience, had moved through two bars to a
Portuguese place that did passable pizza, and we passed an enjoyable night slagging off whining Australians (the details are hazy now, but I seem to recall the two red cards linking back to Ray Illingworth's 71-72 tour and Bodyline, and a general sense they don't like it up 'em), and concluding we want Argentina to beat Germany tomorrow, currently [2.44] on Betfair.

Tags: Argentina World Cup team, Johannesburg taxis, Jonathan Wilson, World Cup betting, World Cup diary