Dealing with Bangkok’s endles variety of taxi drivers is a topic that could produce enough material for several blogs (not including Dale’s cool blog about taxi decorations). I’ve been in taxis that stank, taxis that smelled like cinnamon buns, taxis that were older than I am and taxis that had Buddhist amulets glued to the roof. The drivers I’ve had have ranged from friendly old gaffers who like to practice their English to arrogant punk street racers who feel cooler with every millimeter the speedometer moves to the right. The bottom line is that getting a taxi in Bangkok is a crap shoot. So it was nice a few weeks ago when I was handed the document below as I got in a car at the MBK taxi stand.

My favorite Bangkok taxi story happened to me after I got back from Japan. In the Land of the Rising Sun, as you’ve probably heard, taxis are exceptionally clean, usually decked out in white doilies and lace trim, with drivers who wear suits, gloves and hats. The doors open automatically, and the driver would take you to Dallas, Texas if you asked him to. After landing in Bangkok and ignoring the small army of lying scam artists trying to get me into a ‘limo’ taxi that would cost me twice the normal price, I grabbed a metered taxi and was on my way. As I looked at my driver in a wife-beater t-shirt, ratty jeans and no shoes reach into a bag and pull out a fried grashopper the size of a small banana (which crunched really loudly when he ate it), the only thing I could say was, “Ahhh, Thailand.”

Obviously not a Bangkok taxi driver. Not because he's any less crazy, but because foreigners aren't allowed to drive taxis.

Obviously not a Bangkok taxi driver. Not because he’s any less crazy, but because foreigners aren’t allowed to drive taxis.

At any rate, when I got a taxi at MBK shopping mall a few weeks ago, I got this handed to me by the attendant:

I like the part where it asks you to describe the driver. "Uhh... Thai... dark hair and eyes... umm...."

I like the part where it asks you to describe the driver. “Uhh… Thai… dark hair and eyes… umm….”

It folded up into its own little envelope with the address of the mall management office on it, and it’s a nice attempt at giving people at least the illusion that they have the chance to report bad service. The ‘Details of Complaint’ section lists probably the four most common irritants, but I wonder what the followup action would be – I imagine a ‘special’ chute that these letters get dropped in that leads down through darker and danker layers of the mall until they come out in the basement into a basket labeled ‘fuel’ and are promptly thrown into the furnace by Thailand’s version of Freddy Krueger.

The luckiest taxi I ever rode in. I should have bought a lottery ticket.

The luckiest taxi I ever rode in. I should have bought a lottery ticket.

The only sad thing about it? I took a taxi from the same place last week and wasn’t handed anything. Perhaps someone actually used one and the mall was paid a visit by some lads from the taxi company?