I got into the taxi and didn't make conversation.
"Cabra Road please. New Cabra Road."
Silence all the way, just one of those shitty radio shows where people ring in to tell of the famous people they've met. Apparently Adam Sandler is sound. So is Lorraine Keane. But Brian Ormond is a complete cunt.
Past Peter's Church and I ask him to take the next left.
"I have no change," he says.
"Well, I have twenty euro on me. That's all. And why did you accept the fare if you didn't have any change?" I asked him nicely, if a little impatiently.
"YOU TINK I'M TRYING TO DO YOU? I TELL YOU I HAVE NO CHANGE WHEN YOU GET IN."
"But we didn't even speak. You never said a..."
"I PULL INTO THE SHOP! I GET CHANGE."
"Look, I wasn't being snotty," I said in my best tired. "But I'm not paying over a tenner. That's what the meter says now."
He gruffed a bit more, muttered, tutted and swerved in a u-turn. He left me sitting in his car, went to Spar and came back two minutes later.
No more words. He got his tenner. I got my change. No harm done. Recession.