After finishing up with a client at the Hilton (yeah, I know how that sounds), I waited for a cab in front of the lobby. It was rush hour, so I was mostly relieved when the girl dressed like a bellboy (bellgirl?) came running over saying "Taxi for you, sir."

She was running in that comical, lock-kneed way that some Asian girls seem to prefer. I always wonder if Asian people notice it, and associate that running style with femininity.

A large, black Volkswagen four-door followed her in. It looked like a cab, in that it had the little taxi lamp on the top of it, some faded Chinese characters on the front doors, and a Chinese-looking passenger getting change from the driver before heading into the hotel. I had little reason to question the cab's legitimacy, and anyhow it was rush hour. I was glad to have a ride home at all.

I told him where I was going. He disagreed with me about the route, suggested taking a route that would have been bad even if there were no traffic, and hellish with it. I told him, "I live at that complex. I know how to get there. Don't waste my time driving around in circles, okay?"

That's when I noticed there was no visible meter, or telltale red light on the center dashboard, facing out the windshield. He had no ID card, not even the mounting for it on the dash.

I started to get irritated. I used to avoid the giant, black cabs in the past... they were always the 2 kuai ones from the airport that were a giant rip-off in the first place. Furthermore, they were always assholes who did their best to screw you over. I was getting more irritated by the fact that he was gabbing on his cell and yelling at other drivers. Hang up and drive, idiot. I don't care if you crack your skull on the steering wheel when we get in an accident, but damnit, I want to get home.

I began listening to his conversation. He was talking freely- loudly even- about how he just cheated a guy he brought back from the airport. "No, he was Taiwanese. Only been in Beijing four days. Oh, 180. What do you mean? Of course I tried to get more. He was Taiwanese, not a laowai."

I was livid. I started counting out my change. There was no way this guy was going to overcharge me. I wasn't going to give him the chance. I'm not handing him a hundred then fighting him for the change. Even in traffic, this would only cost 28 kuai. "Well," I thought, "the traffic's bad, and, he is getting me home way faster than a real cab driver would." 30. My mind was made up. "He's not getting more than 30."

I was so ready for a fight. Full of piss and vinegar. I'd done this before, and this guy deserved it. He was still on the phone, still going on about how to cheat people. Some sick part of me was hoping he'd ask me for 180 kuai just so that I had the excuse to rail him in my best Beijing hua and pay him nothing at all.

I'd get him to go into the basement of my complex. There are security cameras down there. And people. If he tries something, he won't even be able to leave. There's only a single exit, and the guards have to lift the gate to let him out. I could even get on my scooter and follow him. No, that's psychotic.

He pulls up to the basement door of my building, audibly lifts the meter (under his seat?) and says, "28 kuai." Shocked, and a little let down, I hand him the 30 I'd already prepared. "Do you need a receipt?" he asked.

I'm still convinced, from his phone calls and his hidden meter that he was a cheat. He must have figured me out, somehow, but I can't tell what it was.

Sly little jerk. He even cheated me out of my opportunity to be angry with him.