Whenever we go home late, no matter where we came from, Mr. Frost and I take a cab home and we start our roller coaster ride with a burden we carry every time we get in a cab at 10PM onwards.

Sleeping cab drivers. Every single time.

They're our curse.

"Sleeping", not "sleepy," because most of them actually slept through the trip. They close their eyes and drift off to sleep while their feet are continuously stepped on the gas pedal, waking up with a start when we're about an inch or 3 seconds away from the vehicle beside or in front of us.

It's amazing how this happens EVERY SINGLE TIME we go home late. Never fails.

And each time I see the cab driver's eyes close (through the rearview mirror), I feel my heart banging furiously against my ribcage, shouting at the top of its figurative lungs:

"I love my work! Please don't make me stop working! GET OFF THIS BLOODY CAB!"

And the funny thing is, you can never tell that a cab driver is on his way to Neverland when they stop to pick you up.

To keep the driver awake, Mr. Frost and I talk endlessly about nothing. We nervously laugh at the shallowest of things. We try to engage the driver in the conversation. Worked a couple of times. And never again.

We tried asking the driver to pull over, but every time we finally find our voice to talk, the cabbie is suddenly wide awake. I think they have a radar on passengers wishing to get off.

I'm not sure if my post actually made sense, but I don't really give a damn. I've got it off my chest and I'm ready to ride with another sleeping cabbie tonight.

Damn curse.