Auto-Pilot

For visitors to Chennai, one of the first 'characters' you will meet is the ubiquitous auto-driver. Auto-rickshaws in Chennai are the color of yellow-jackets and nimbly buzz and dart through traffic on their three wheels. Drivers typically wear loose fitting light brown pants and matching top and decorate their front The compartment is open, with an optional rain-flaps for monsoon rains, and the back seat can comfortably seat three. While the wind hitting your face might give the illusion of speed, in reality autos are probably traveling only slightly faster than a juiced-up lawnmower.

Auto-drivers in most Indian cities work off a meter, though for whatever behind-the-scene union/political machinations, Chennai autos are a perfectly open market; one must negotiate for each ride in a choreographed script that resembles a three-act play;

Act I: Introductions - Usually auto drivers can spot someone looking to be transported; one or two will circle, asking, "Auto, madam? Auto madam?" Depending on the age and disposition of the driver, I'll either smile brightly or furrow my brow and layout my destination. Another quirk of Chennai is that, along with the new moniker for the city a few years back, most of the street names have been re-christened as well. The problem with that is that very few people ever truly knew the old names and now with the new names the confusion abounds. Therefore the end destination you give the driver is never your exact street or office location but rather a general landmark or reference point. Once a landmark has been established, the second Act begins.

Act II: Conflict - As a foreigner here in Chennai, I expected to be over-charged but the truly outrageous pricing drivers spit out at me is truly hilarious. After you've established a landmark, you utter the phase, "Evlavu?" (how much?), and wait for a split second as the driver sizes you up. I like to imagine their inner-monologue being, "How stupid is this woman, hmmmm?" After they spit out their offer, usually 175% more than a fair price, the hand-waving, complaining, gesticulating and courting begins. If the price is truly outlandish, I'll usually walk away with a dismissive wave of the hand. If the driver is in his vehicle he'll sputter something and follow behind me, incrementally lowering his price by 10RS a round. Often we'll go three rounds unless he's so disgusted by my counteroffer that he speeds off to his next victim. All this takes about 1 minute. Often you can leverage the appearance of another auto to expedite the price-lowering; though sometimes the two collude to impose a price floor. (in this latter case you know it will take awhile)

Act III: Resolution - After a minute-worth of back and forth you either accept the final price or move along to another auto. I can count on one hand the number of times I think I've "won" against them; the battles are hardfought but I rarely emerge with a fair price. Sometimes the amount of time it takes to negotiate is just not worth the extra 10 or 20 RS (around 20 cents and 40 cents).

To those who live in cities with metered cabs, I am pea green with envy.