Then he whipped out his phone and showed me a picture of a young and long-haired man. It looked like he had snapped it off an old photo, because it had that telltale sepia and patterned border cutout. The man in the photograph had a hand on his chin and a come hither look on his face. It creeped me out a little bit. "Look, this is me, in 1973! You probably not born yet! So handsome, right? All the girls used to like me!"
I noticed then that his hairstyle hasn't changed, except his hairline is a little further back. I also noticed that the photo was his phone wallpaper.
"I bet you've never been entertained by your cab driver before!" he said. "Let me entertain you with my singing!"
Oh dear God.
I braced myself when he turned on the radio, expecting him to sing along to whatever song was playing.
Instead, what he turns on is a CD recording of him singing. A recording. Of him singing. A pretty good recording - it sounded like he did it in some kind of studio - but it was a recording. Of him singing. And he played it. For me. I thought he might be joking and had just put on a regular CD, and was just about to laugh when he sang along. He sounded exactly like the voice on the CD, complete with mispronunciations. He had a recording. Of himself. Singing.
"Nice, right? Uncle can sing or not?"
It was terrible.
"Last week when I played this for one of my passengers, she asked me to sing at her restaurant in Arab street!"
...no please.
"I told her I will think about it. If I do it, it will be on my own terms. Talent like this ah, cannot anyhow waste, you know?"
Facepalm.
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