Regular big city taxicab passengers know the routine: You get inside the back seat of the cab and notice a divider separating you from the driver. You rattle off your destination and sit quietly, perhaps impatiently, as the traffic moves slower than a turtle. The driver, weaving in and out of congestion, doesn't speak.
When you arrive, you pay, get out and watch the vehicle disappear into the sea of yellow formed by other cabs. Later, you wouldn't recognize your driver if he stared you in the face.