Old Mercedes retire in Beirut

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The predominant sight that awaits a visitor on Beirut streets is likely that of an army of ancient Mercedes in various states of decay, that slow down and honk at every pedestrian. These curious vehicles are what we call services (pronounced a la French, "sehr-vees"), a very practical and very cussed-at mode of public transportation. The services are halfway between a taxi and a bus. They have a fixed route like the bus, and are only 1000 LP, twice the price of a bus fare (the latter being about 30 cents US). If you want to hire one as a taxi, which means you can ask them to take you to a certain place out of their way, you pay 5000 ($4 and some). Like a taxi, they are faster and have access to more areas than a bus (not to mention you never have to wait as they swarm in the streets like ants in a honey jar), but like a bus, they take more than a passenger -- if you get on a service you will have to share it with strangers.

I mentioned above that the services were the subject of much cursing. The way I see it, there are two ways of looking at them. The pedestrian point of view and the passenger point of view. To the pedestrian, services are bloody annoyances. When I walk down the street I have to bear the eternal and nerve-wrecking honk. The honk means "Where you headed? Hop on board", and it is infuriating to be constantly honked at when you just feel-like-walking-dangit, are going in the opposite direction, or are in th every process of shutting the door of your own car. I tilt my head back to say no (local gesture) or when I'm in a venting mood, simply yell "No!" to them without looking. That doesn't mean I can have peace because they'll honk to the next person they see, etc... Drivers hate services because they stop in the middle of the road to embark or drop off passengers, slow down anytime they see a pedestrian to honk-ask them if they need a ride, and generally drive like complete morons, even by Lebanese standards. Not to mention they often leave little pieces of their car all over the country. The venerable machines they're driving look every day of 50 years of age, although I have seen some brand new, polished 20-year-olds that give me the vague feeling of having stepped in a time machine. Broken lights, absent mirrors, a bumper that's held in place by scotch tape and a window kept shut by wedging it in place with a couple of screwdrivers -- that's the usual look of our services, if you don't include the creative ornamentation such as No Fear stickers, CDs inserted under the Mercedes logo, plushes hanging from the mirror and such. If you're very lucky, the cushions inside will be new, but generally expect a cloud of cigarette smoke and seats that are almost reduced to their springs. I pity the poor drivers who have to freeze in there in winter and choke in summer.

When I'm walking, the services are a pain in the back. But sometimes I need them. In this case I stand on the sidewalk waiting for one to slow down and tell the driver my destination through the window. "Sanayeh?" If it's not his route, he drives on without answering (that's something I always find rude). If it is, he nods or goes "Climb in" and I embark. Now I'm on the other side of the mirror, with a whole different perspective.

As soon as a passenger gets in, the driver starts a conversation. The amazing thing is when the passenger picks it up as if they were old friends continuing something they had previously interrupted. It seems that there is a tacit agreement everywhere that a service is not just transportation, it's somewhere to have a talk. It's actually almost exactly like a chatroom on the 'net, with lurkers not allowed. "Wait till you hear what happened to my wife and I, brother", replies the passenger to a remark made by the driver, and soon they're having an animate debate on the state of the country and what the driver's children are studying. From time to time the driver turns to the other passengers in the back seat and asks "Isn't that right, miss?" just to make sure they don't feel neglected. I was once in a car with 3 other passengers, none of which knew the others. Next to me were a woman and a man. The man suddenly asked the driver to tell him when they reached a certain place, because "I haven't slept in two days, and in case sleep gets the best of me..." "Don't worry friend, I will tell you". The supposedly sleepy man then kept on talking until the woman next to me burst into giggles and whispered in my ear "And he said he was sleepy!" After a minute the two of us and the driver were laughing good-heartedly and telling the man "Uncle, you will lose sleep completely if you continue!"

The driver also offers passengers whatever it is he's having, be it water, cigarettes, pistachios,... Last time, I had just bought a pack of biscuits and opened it in the car to eat, so I reciprocated by offering some to the driver and the other passenger. He declined but told me to help myself to tissues.

The most entertaining is to watch service drivers among themselves. When a driver refuses a client because it's not his route, another service that witnessed the scene would pull up and ask from one car to the other where the client was going, and "Call her and send her to me will you?". I also saw today, one service asking the other if he had change and both of them exchange the money through the open window, while driving. They simply slowed down for the exchange, undisturbed by the fact they were under a traffic agent's nose. Not that he would object, anyway.

I almost forgot this one episode where the car stopped on the side of the road to let me get off. There was a girl seated to my right and she had to get out to allow me out. As she opened the door, a motorcycle crashed into it. Unemotionally, the driver and passengers looked at the young idiot as he was painfully getting up, and asked him if he had any brains left. I do believe the girl had to maintain the door shut manually after that -- all in a day's work judging by the driver's lack of reaction!

The pearl in my collection of service driver stories happened one day that a hysterical client signalled the driver. She asked if he was going to a certain place and he answered "I'm going to Bouchrieh" (near the destination she was asking about). She flipped out and started shouting that if she wanted Bouchrieh she'd have asked for Bouchrieh -- at which point the driver indifferently said "Hop on, we'll fight in the car". I had just bought a sketchbook to have a travel diary of Beirut itself, and as soon as I heard this I knew this should be the opening quote for it. What amazes me is that the client did as she was told -- she got on and continued arguing. The driver wasn't trying to be insolent nor to shut her up, he simply meant it.

I find the services delightful, but I'll be happy when regulations will force the least safe cars (and drivers) off the road, as well as when seatbelts become compulsory...

Article © Joumana Medlej