The trip from hamilton to pearson airport taxi is often a routine one-hour drive with constant traffic on the highway. But occasionally, a routine journey might become exceptional. When my experience started, it was a cold December night and around midnight. I had no idea how much of a memory this cab ride would stick with me for years to come.
A delayed flight was the beginning of it all. With no other means of transportation, I had to reserve a cab in order to make it to Pearson Airport in time for my early morning departure. Samuel, the middle-aged driver, showed up on time. His cheerful manner instantly put me at ease, and his cab was an ancient but well-maintained sedan.
"You mean Pearson Airport?" He smiled as he assisted me in loading my bags and inquired. "It appears that our late-night drive will be quiet."
I relaxed back in the seat, anticipating a smooth ride as the car drove out into the broad highway from Hamilton's dark streets. However, destiny had other ideas.
Samuel abruptly reduced his speed around twenty minutes into the journey.
"I apologize, Miss. We're being rerouted by the GPS. The regular route is undergoing some significant construction," he clarified. We left the freeway and entered a network of smaller, more isolated roads as a result of the detour. The more we drove from civilization, the more darkness fell over the car.
Only the occasional owl's hoot or the soft rustle of trees moving in the chilly breeze could break the eerie silence. Despite my faith in Samuel, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety.
"Have you ever driven this route?" Trying not to show my nervousness, I asked.
"At night," he acknowledged. Don't worry, though. We'll arrive in plenty of time. A classic rock station was playing quietly on the car radio while he spoke in a comforting tone.
We came up to a lone guy standing at the edge of the road just as I was starting to unwind once again. He motioned for the cab to stop by waving his arms.
"Do you think we ought to stop?" Samuel inquired warily.
The man, his breath evident in the chilly air, came up to the car before I could respond. He appeared harmless yet desperate.
He clarified, "A few miles ago, my car broke down." I must make my way to the closest gas station. Could you please help me?
After some hesitation, Samuel consented. The man went into the front seat and introduced himself as Jack. His presence changed the mood in the car, making the previously peaceful trip more uncertain.
Jack started sharing stories about other late-night experiences he has had on these roads as we started driving again. I was interested and a little concerned by the almost mesmerizing quality of his speech.