Mixing Wine with Water

On Saturday night, three friends and I made the decision to take a taxi to the apartments instead of walking in the dark. That decision and cab ride inspired a story that will forever be remembered.

The beginning of our ride was like any other cab ride. George, our driver was very approachable and answered all of our questions about life living in Athens. All of a sudden, he received a text message, laughed, turned the us and said, "now you'll really experience the city." George immediately stepped on the gas, and started driving in the opposite direction. Dropping us off in Pangrati was no longer on his agenda.

Screaming filled the cab. We pleaded with him to let us out, but he wouldn't listen. A calm and eerie smile crossed his face at the expense of our terror. Seconds passed by like hours. I had no idea how long we were in the cab, but when we finally stopped we had no idea where we were or how to get back home.

When we got out of the cab, we were greeted by hundreds of protestors, with passion-filled eyes. We stood there, speechless, our feet frozen to the ground. We didn't know what was going on, where we were, what to do, or if George was going to give us a refund. Our decision was made when we heard police coming our way. Their blue lights and shouting were coming closer and closer and we did the only thing we could do; run.

Our group took off down the street, George included. He must have been scared too, apparently. The streets were wet with rain and our feet were constantly slipping through the streets, dodging cars and mopeds all the way. We ran for miles, and our lungs screaming, hearts pounding. The blue lights of police cars seemed to always find us even through our path of alley ways and market shops, so we continued to run. When we finally collapsed there were no police in sight. After we were able to stand, we looked up and saw the original Olympic Stadium, which is two blocks from our apartment. George, to our surprise was still with us. He turned to us, laughed, shook our hands and walked away. I was dumbfounded, why didn't I punch him in the face? Why did he find this enjoyable? But as his shadow slowly faded from the lamplight, I knew that I wouldn't trade this story for anything; my friends felt the same.

The next morning we met our class out by the stadium. The four of us looked at each other with knowing eyes, anxious for the story of our next cab ride.