About re-qualified taxi drivers with unusual biographies. Recalled from the history of August 1 about a Canadian taxi driver-scientist who met a taxi driver-graduate of his university:
https://www.anekdot.ru/id/1034656/

Many criteria have questioned whether this is possible. well well.

I remember my best taxi driver. He really saved me. The flight was in the morning. Leaving home very early in the morning. And if I was late for him, I would have gotten a real ass. I was very afraid to sleep. It was a mission. But he slept. He was in some frustration and agitation, wearing around the house like a rage with the last collection. In the firefighter mode - for all about 40 seconds. Because the pre-ordered taxi has arrived and is waiting.

The firefighter came out of me fucking. As I rushed, I ran out in about an hour. After a long time, I can’t remember why I was so delayed. Certainly something of an important importance. Per the passport was not found in the ordinary box. Maybe you put the money in the wrong book. Not the essence. It’s that I ran out like a sparkly cock and honestly told the taxi driver the time of my flight. With sadness untold, he promised to add five hundred if he delivered to such a time. Otherwise a black shit. It is an honor to be on this flight.

I noticed that he shrugged. How he didn’t hit the price of ten in this arrangement – I’m surprised. Instead, he encouraged us that our case was hopeless.

Then began the French series Taxi. Through the deserted curved streets, which are unknown to navigators, it flashed through the entire center of Moscow to the traditional traffic jams in Leningrad. I didn’t know if I should be grateful or not. But in the traffic, life was not in a hurry.

Who is driving an alien? I looked at the taxi driver. Ordinary Slavic face. It’s amazing for a taxi. Looking further, the face is also smart and strong. It was as if they crossed an academic with a special force. It doesn’t get stuck in the traffic, but it does get stuck. What fucking unseen thing did I get? have talked.

He was my pilot. In the sense that many times he flew with me on board on the route Vladivostok-Moscow and back. He is my taxi driver. Not in my clerical sense, of course. I am his passenger. But guys, I’ve got my ears up! A few polite questions passed by in the middle of a long conversation. I’m convinced that Nippon is, of course. Yes, I am lucky in a taxi b. airliner pilot. He is lucky at the airport and is not especially excited that will not lucky me further, a few thousand kilometers away.

But how so? My brain exploded. This man at 40+ was raising huge IL-62 and Tu-154 into the sky. Take hundreds of passengers to another part of the planet. He successfully planted them, judging by the fact that they were still alive. Now he’s 50+ and he’s dragging my lonely body on the ground. How could this happen?

It turned out, simply. After the liquidation of the Russian fleet in the form of these very IL-62 and Tu-154, they were replaced by Western airbuses. The pilot 40+ did not want to re-learn them. Afraid that he is no longer young, he is poor in English, and threatens a few hundred passengers headed by him. Better than a taxi.

We surprisingly quickly arrived at the airport in this congestion. At last, I asked him what it was. When you have a couple hundred souls behind you, and you are responsible for them. He smiled, right now you were behind my back. In the only copy. Suppose you are at least two hundred. What difference? The main thing is that I want to live myself. I drive for myself and I sit. But most of all, when I was younger, I liked to drive the car, not the passengers.
What is SP? I asked Sonny.
The driver seemed to be disappointed. He explained politely:
The station is like that. It is called the North Pole. I usually dropped them from the air and flew back. But sometimes they cleaned the lane. How not to sit here?

have not agreed. I still regret not having met this man. Is it hard to drive so fast? I just didn’t have time to remember.