mon_in_cairo's Journal

Now, I shall recount the story of the Horn That Wouldn’t Stop Horn…ing. Tonight, on the way back from Euro Deli I caught a cab driven by a really nice old man named Hassan. We got to talking (rather, he got to talking, in rapid-fire Arabic, and I just sat there nodding), and I really felt comfortable with Hassan—a rare occurrence with Egyptian cab drivers. Now, as relevant background information, you should realize that there are no traffic laws in Egypt. Rather, there are ‘suggestions,’ such as only forming three lanes of traffic in a three-lane street, stopping at intersections, avoiding rapid and unannounced lane shifts, and driving with your lights on (ask any cabbie why his lights aren’t on in the dead of night, and he’ll turn around, look at you oddly, and say, “To save battery!” Oh, yes. Silly me.). In lieu of enforced traffic regulations, cabbies rely upon one vital instrument: their horn. I could write another entire entry solely on the intricacies of cab horns in Egypt, but that’s for another time. So, back to Hassan. We approached a notoriously busy intersection near Euro Deli, and he honked, as usual. Only this time, the horn did not stop. What’s more, as it kept blaring, it got progressively louder. Hassan, being the jolly old man he is, turns around and says, “Ma’3lesh! (No worries!)” He proceeds to stop in the middle of the intersection, get out of his vehicle, open his hood, and fiddle with the engine for a good 20 seconds before he got the blasted thing to stop. This same series of events transpires at two more intersections. At the fourth intersection of the ride, poor Hassan was apparently wiped out, and he turns around and explains, again, “Ma’3lesh…mish 3eezeen (No worries…we don’t need it).” To my amazement, he just continues driving, into the deadlocked Cairene traffic, horn blaring at an increasingly unbearable volume. This in and of itself would make a good story, but then something even more hilarious happens. In addition to the horn blaring, his brakes also appear to get stuck. Now, aside from the practical problems of, you know, a strong burning smell coming from the engine, something uniquely Egyptian occurs. I’m sure I’ve mentioned to you before that Cairo cabs are often programmed to play “It’s A Small World” whenever the drivers use their brakes. (You know what’s coming…don’t you?) Well, shortly after the burning smell enters my nostrils, sure enough, “It’s A Small World” begins playing…nonstop. So, there we are, trying to navigate, say, six lanes of traffic, horn blaring, and brakes begging fellow drivers to realize that “It’s a small world, after all.” I have no idea how I kept my composure throughout the ride…but Hassan didn’t seem phased, so I thought it inappropriate to laugh.

And now...

( The Pics! )