Yesterday was easily one of the worst days of my life. I had my monthly pregnancy check-up at the hospital. It had been nearly three weeks since I’d gone into premature labor and was put on strict bed rest.
I’ve turned into a bit of a hermit these days, so I was overly apprehensive about going all the way to the hospital for my appointment. Mika had ordered me a taxi, and the driver did me the favor of showing up 10 minutes early so that he could start running up the meter. Luckily our apartment has a view of the street and I saw that sneaky devil so I waddled down the stairs and got in that taxi early. The meter was already at €9.20. Gee, thanks.
I asked him to drop me off at the ER, simply to avoid walking up the hill and stairs at the regular entrance. But he didn’t know that – for all he knew I was going to the hospital to have my baby.
The meter stopped at €11.80 so I handed him €20 and asked for €8 back. Hey, I’m practically French now so I don’t have to tip taxi drivers anymore. That’s when he proceeded to yell at me. A pregnant lady being dropped off at the ER.