I recently took my final ride in an Atlanta taxi.
No, I’m not moving. Neither do I plan to drive, walk or bicycle everywhere in this only partially pedestrian-/bike-friendly city.
My latest experience with an Atlanta taxi was simply the last straw in a old, troubled relationship.
Since I moved to Atlanta nearly two years ago, Uber has been my go-to car service. The cars are cleaner. The drivers are nicer. The pick-up times are more reliable.
Writing that sentence, I just realized that Uber’s cheaper pricing really is at the bottom of my list for using them. How about that.
Anyway, returning from a business trip to San Diego last week, I found myself arriving at the Atlanta airport at around 8:30 p.m. Normally, I would take the MARTA train back to Midtown and either get my husband to pick me up at the station or take an embarrassingly short Uber ride back to the condo (if the sun hasn’t already gone down, I’ll happily hike the mile or so back).
For those familiar with MARTA, however, you know that trains get stupidly scarce at night, and I was facing a 20-minute wait for a train, plus a 20-minute ride to Midtown, plus another, say, 10 minutes to get back to the condo.
Just taking an Uber could get me there in less than half the time.
Only I had read that Uber drivers were having trouble picking up passengers at the Atlanta airport. Airport officials had been running stings to identify, fine and even tow Uber drivers illegally picking up fares at the airport. I didn’t have time to be part of a sting, nor did I want to get a driver in trouble.
So I headed for the taxi stand. I had just received excellent taxi service in San Diego, after all, and I figured that maybe it was time to give Atlanta’s cabs another chance.
Upon arriving at the San Diego airport (where Uber drivers can pick up fares), I had opened my Uber app out of habit, only to find that surge pricing was in effect, presumably from that night’s NFL game (Steelers vs. Chargers). I shrugged, turned off the app and headed for the taxi stand.
The taxi that picked me up was clean. The air conditioner was running. The driver was polite. The credit card machine faced the back seat for easy access.
The fare was reasonable – I think I would have probably only saved around $2 taking Uber with non-surge pricing.
But back to Atlanta.
The airport’s taxi concierge asked where I was going and told me to “take the yellow one” as she pointed vaguely toward the front of the line. LOL. There were at least three yellow taxis parked close to one another in that direction.
Luckily (?), one driver hopped right out out to grab my bag. I asked him if he took credit cards, because the last time I had taken a taxi in Atlanta, the driver scolded me for not telling him I was using a credit card before I got into his car, despite these facts: His cab signage indicated that all company drivers accepted credit cards, his credit card machine was attached to the console and was clearly working, and he was picking me up in the most business-y of all the business-y areas of Atlanta. And he took credit cards.
This driver nodded, and we were off. I gave him the address, and he muttered something about needing to stop and get gas. I said, conversationally, that I had been flying all day and was really looking forward to getting home, not wanting to have to bust out the argument that he would have to get gas on his own time.
Compared to my San Diego taxi, this car was an atrocity. The seats were torn. The windows were down, and stayed down until we reached 60 mph on the interstate and I had to shout to get the driver to roll them up because a. Has anyone ever been in an Atlanta taxi with a working AC and a driver with enough sense not to drive over 40 mph with the windows down? and b. The driver had immediately cranked up a classical music station upon leaving the taxi bay, then proceeded to try to converse with me about stuff and things over the noise of the music and the air rushing in.
There were three warning lights glowing on the dashboard: the oil pressure warning, the alternator/battery charging alert and the service vehicle soon indicator. Reassuring.
I was glad it was dark so I didn’t have to see the condition of the tires.
We got to the condo relatively quickly, and the driver pulled in EXACTLY where I told him not to park, since he was totally in the way of any other cars trying to enter the parking garage (luckily, no one else drove up before he left).
He then spent five minutes searching for his credit card machine under the detritus filling his front seat. There was junk everywhere, mostly pieces of paper that he flung around nonchalantly, as if this were the way that he ALWAYS handled credit card customers.
He even walked over to a taxi that pulled up in front of my building (in the precise spot where I had requested that he park) to see if he could use that driver’s machine. Uh, no.
He finally found his own machinery and ran my card, no apologies.
I will never set foot in another Atlanta taxi. I’ll wait 30 minutes for the train if I have to, just to avoid having to deal with the run-down cabs and the amateurish drivers this city seems to perpetually offer.
I’m embarrassed to think that visitors face this ridiculous transportation offering when they fly into our airport
Taxi companies have gotten by with a broken customer service model for a long time because they’ve been a protected species. The industry’s go-to response to competition from Uber has been to run to regulators for assistance rather than changing their own game. Atlanta taxis in particular certainly aren’t sending out clean, well-maintained cabs driven by polite, punctual drivers who can take a credit card from a business traveler without drama.
It’s not a very endearing response.
No more second chances, Atlanta taxi drivers. It’s you, not me, and we’re done.
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