Punk Cab Drivers

When I arrived in Baku, I had to claim my bags, get my international ticket from a representative from the embassy and then recheck in my bags in the international terminal.  It was a long and drawn-out process.   What made it even worse was Azal took so long to unload the plane, at least an hour.  This gave all of the cab drivers more than adequate time to hustle anybody waiting for their bags.  As it was obvious that I am a foreigner I was crowded with cab drivers.  Even though I told them “no” over and over, there were still insistent.  There was one who came up to me every 5 minutes to say, “taxi, hotel...blah, blah, blah.”  After coming up to five times, he slapped my shoulder out of frustration.  My right hand instantly curled into a fist and for a moment I had the thought of unleashing some of the frustration I have felt since receiving the news upon him.  But as quickly as my fist tightened it was released.  Going to jail for kicking the crap out of a punk cab driver would be of little comfort to my family, even if the guy was asking for it.  

I finally got my bags and hooked up with the person from the embassy who gave me my tickets for the rest of my flight.  I went into the international terminal.  I had 5 hours to wait for my next flight.  I sat at a cafe and worked on my laptop.  I was dead tire but could not get to sleep.