Crazi Taxi


I took the ferry and drove over to Gent, Belgium last weekend for a few days of Trappist Ales, Culture and Meat.

It is a prime requisite of mine to plunder the arcade cabinets at every available opportunity, and the ferry is no exception. So I spent my pound-coins wisely, often paying for some wank-and-poo-smelling teenager to go co-op with me. I don’t mind, I’m no mushypaedophile.

Anyway.

I go into the bar area of the ferry, feeling a little worse for wear, only to find the holy grail of Sega cabinets: “Crazi Taxi”. I set off, coin in hand, but am stopped in my tracks by a “downie“.

Here’s where my problems starts…

The downie sits down at the cab and starts messing with the steering wheel. I thought, “give it a couple of minutes and she’ll get bored and fuck off”. I was wrong.

After 5minutes, she starts pulling invisible money from her pocket and pretending to play the game “fo‘ real”.

I did ponder on a number of solutions as follows:
1) Treat the downie as I would any other member of society with that mental age and just tell her to sling her hook. I felt this was a socially responsible way of greeting “the disableds” with open arms and treating them as I myself would wish to be treated. If I was a Downie. I did not pursue this course of action, for fear of a Dover-ScummerPaedo-Beating.
2) Take pity and look to the source of her happiness, offering her my £1 coin for her to play a proper game. Think that this would be a great gesture yet totally patronising, I gave it a miss. Another reason for not pursuing this course of action, was my fear of a Dover-ScummerPaedo-Beating.

In the end I broke free from this scruple and played it on the way back, four days later.

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