I was sitting on a cab stand with two other drivers, and we were out of our taxis, talking. A cab from another zone stopped on the street next to us, coming to a screeching halt. The back door popped open and a young man with a baseball cap leaned out and barfed for at least two minutes. We were revolted. The guy finally got out of the cab and paid his driver.
The driver looked at us, and without exchanging a single word, we had a conversation: Sometimes this job sucks. These drunks are tiresome. Good luck, my friend.
He got in his cab and drove off.
Meanwhile, the drunk guy held up both arms, index fingers extended: "I'm ready for the next round!" He staggered across the street and into one of the bars.
At least he had the sense to deposit the contents of his stomach outside the guy's taxi.