For those of you who've never taken a Brooklyn cab before, I'll quickly fill you in. Rather than having things like a "meter" or a posted "fare chart," Brooklyn cabs (which are often just unmarked, old Lincoln town cars... if you're lucky) have arbitrary fares. If, let's say, your cabbie got laid earlier in the evening, your ride from the heart of Brooklyn to midtown Manhattan might only cost you ten bucks. But if your cabbie just lost $300 at the OTB and you wanna ride three blocks, expect to plunk down an Andrew Jackson.

If you're lucky, the fare will be agreed upon beforehand and the cabbie will stick to it. Two Saturdays ago, I was not lucky. I was out in Brooklyn with my girlfriend and two friends and it was past midnight (which means the subways going into Manhattan no longer run... yes, Brooklyn sucks, people) and we unfortunately had no choice but to flag down a Brooklyn cabbie. Which is, by the way, always an awkward situation. Because these motherfuckers are just driving regular cars. So like 80% of the time you flag them down, they stop. Because they're cabs. But the other 20% of the time they don't stop. Because they're just old people who own Lincoln Town Cars.

So we got "lucky" that the dude we flagged down did indeed stop. "Where to?" the pushing 70-year-old cabbie said in a gruff quasi drunk indistinguishably foreign accent.

"Union Square. How much?"

"For all four of you? Fourteen." Which is not bad. It's more expensive than a regular cab would charge but, as I said before, regular cabs don't go to Brooklyn... sort of like how high class hookers don't hang out with the homeless (there's just no money to be made there). But it's definitely hovering around the "I just got laid" rate for these neckless fuck faces.

We piled into the splendid rust bucket and, in no time, were zooming down the street. Actually, not zooming. More like swerving. Constantly swerving. And since Brooklyn cabs don't have seat belts, it was a fun fucking ride.

About halfway into the ride, one of my friends (the drunkest person in the cab) started talking about something borderline gay, like how he likes to count the veins on the cocks he sees in pornos or some shit. We found the conversation funny. Our cabbie did not. He took his lazy (probably) European eyes of the road and stared down my friend for the rest of the fucking ride.

After several near crashes, we finally pulled into Union Square. My drunk buddy, feeling slightly shitty for possibly pissing off the cabbie, throws the dude a $20. "Keep the change, my man."

"Where's the rest of the fare?" the squat little fuck grunted.

"Huh? It was $14, right?"

"Twenty two dollars. To Union Square."

"You said $14," I said. Which, as you can attest to, he did.

"Twenty two, I said, but you can be liars if you'd like and not give me."

This of course set the entire car into a rage. "You're a fucking liar and you suck at driving, you fat fuck!" my other friend said as he angrily pushed his way out of the car. My girlfriend threw her gum out in his back seat. We were all stunned.

As soon as we were all out of the douche mobile, we stood there in awe for a second. The fucking gall... what a dick head... can you believe...

SMASH!  As the cab was driving away from us, the motherfucker got into an accident. Instant karma, bitches.

Even though the bitch got his, I still wish I hadn't taken that fucking Brooklyn cab. Because Brooklyn and its cabs suck. And, most importantly, Brooklyn cab drivers? I fucking HATE you.