Last Sunday night I went home with K because he had had a little too much to drink and although I'm not usually worried about him getting home safely, this time he had to go to work in the morning so I wanted to make sure not only that he got there, but that he was awake and well enough to start the first full week at his new job.
However, I hadn't been tea-total that night either, so when we got to the train station at his home town and saw no busses for the time being, we headed over to the taxi stand - my arm firmly hooked through his to prevent him from stumbling too badly - and being slightly tipsy myself, I read the big sign that hovered over the waiting cabs, out loud. "You are not obliged to take the first taxi in line."
To our alcohol-fueled minds this was like a red rag to a bull and we got into the second of two cabs waiting at the little turning circle they have there (there were others waiting further away that we didn't really notice at the time, I remember now). But the driver was having none of it. He was telling us we couldn't do that and that the other driver was his buddy and he wasn't going to steal money from his friend. K protested feebly: "But the sign says..." "I don't care about the sign," the taxi driver said. "I didn't put that sign up!" And he started his tirade all over again...
Eventually we relented and walked over to the first cab, pretending nothing had happened. This driver either didn't realise what had happened or played dumb. Then I heard K muttering under his breath in the back seat: "That was rude!"