There’s nothing like a college-town taxi service. Maybe it’s because leaning over the front seat feels a little like being in a confessional (if the priest was wearing a tracksuit and sipping on Red Bull). Maybe it's because the tiny rearview mirror has a special way of reflecting your bad decisions in a big way. No matter the reason, that cozy environment somehow always leads to some deep personal realizations. 

For me, the cab driver-passenger relationship is a highly special bond. It’s kind of like going through recruitment: I endured a series of short trips around town, chatting up a variety of drivers, until I found The One. My rush crush of a cabbie is my go-to guy—he taught me more about life than I ever thought I would have been able to understand...mostly because he’s missing some teeth and speaks kind of muffled. I like to think I brighten his day.

Regardless of whether he knows it or not, I consider my taxi driver to be a part of my inner circle, setting the bar high for everyone else since '13. He taught me that a good friend will pick you up whenever you need them, day or night, no questions asked. They’ll be in your phone as “Jamal” or “Rico” and occasionally send you unexpected texts inquiring about your planned mode of transportation to and from that pool party on Saturday. My cab driver cares about my safety, and I pay him $2.50 a mile plus $4 flat to do so. Friendship is a two-way street, you guys.

Seeing as how I am a terrible navigator, I rely on my cabbie to know where it is I want to go and to empathize with my needs. All solid relationships are based off of clear communication and mutual trust. No matter how confident you are that you know where your destination is, nothing kills the vibe of an evening quicker than telling your friends you’ll meet them somewhere at eleven, getting lost, then showing up three hours later when the party is winding down with a $75 fare tab and some Taco Bell...or so I'm told. No one likes a flake.

My cab driver also provides me with all of the hot gossip I require, as all friends should. He lets me know if the party's popping before I get there, and usually sticks around for a minute after I arrive in case I need to make a quick getaway. Being able to read me like that takes time, and I appreciate the effort that he puts in—or, he could just be waiting for anyone else who needs a ride, in which case I admire his independence. A little separation is crucial in keeping healthy friendships alive.

Lastly, my cab driver taught me how important it is to take an interest in the people around you. There are all kinds of unique and weird and totally crazy people in every town; people you thought you never would interact with-- but who else makes your life easier or brings you joy the same way as you do for them? A simple conversation isn't hard to muster, and can open your eyes to all sorts of new life perspectives. Just make sure that your cabbie of choice gets you to the party on time.