Psycho Taxi Driver

I've never had a scarier taxi ride. My taxi driver on my way home from work this morning was without a doubt on some kind of drug. Probably the ubiquitous methamphetamine used around here called shabu. First of all it was one of the most beat up taxis I'd ever been in. It looked like it might fall apart. When I got in I immediately realized the driver was high on something. He couldn't sit still and I could see via the rear view mirror that his eyes were bloodshot and glossy. The words of a reporter on the radio were unintelligible because the station wasn't quite tuned into the right frequency. It only gave off high-pitched sounds of jumbled words. The guy didn't seem to notice or care. And his driving genuinely scared me. I thought he might kill someone. He weaved into oncoming traffic numerous times to pass the line up of cars we were in. This isn't that unusual except that this guy didn't do it only when it was clear. He just honked for people to get out of his way while accelerating as fast as the car would go, just to quickly weave back into traffic. I prayed and tried to get the courage up to stop him and get out but I kept telling myself it wasn't that much further. I was just scared to speak to this guy. But the atmosphere of the taxi felt spiritually dark. It was awful. Even though I was more than half way home, I finally worked up enough courage to listen and act on what my instincts were telling me. Get out of this taxi! I seriously thought I might get into an accident at any moment or worse yet hit and kill a pedestrian. So I stopped the taxi, paid my fare and got out. Whew!