Taxi drivers. Some are stone-faced; others make you laugh all the way to the airport. I’ve had one or two who asked me for directions to my destination. Another cadre of them scared the daylights out of me—some with their driving, others with their apparent insanity. Overall, some of the nicest, most interesting people on this planet drive taxis. For example: I was hopelessly lost once in Hong Kong. What to do? Get in a taxi, of course. No English on one side, no Chinese on the other. Worse yet, I have no comprehension of the Chinese alphabet, and he just stared at that strange writing I offered. I pulled out the key to my hotel room. Sure enough, there was something I couldn’t understand plastered on one side of the key fob. What kind of airhead hands her hotel key to a stranger she can’t communicate with? But that’s what I did. And this gentleman took me right where I wanted to go, to my temporary home. I think I tipped him well. That was back in the day when the currency had pictures of the British royal family and as I recall some numbers I understood. Interesting--Arabic numbers on British bills used by an American in Asia. So by the grace of God and the honesty of a taxi driver, this American girl from Farmers Branch, Texas, got back to my hotel room.