Curious...

Coming back from the airport on the old Swords road as I don't use the Kesh. Hoping I'll pick up a fare on the way back to the city. Just through the lights at the boundary of the airport property and there's an airport police car, lights flashing, pulled over. Doors open, two officers drag a pretty but very angry blonde in pink tracksuit out of the car, manhandle her over to the kerb, open the boot, and throw her bags onto the pavement. I drive by, observing all. In my rearview mirror I see them leave, lights still flashing, and I see her putting out her hand trying to get a passing taxi. It's already booked.
Fair enough. I turn around, drive past her, do a u-turn, and pull in, getting out to open the boot for her bags. She's furious.
I put the bags in, and they're heavy. One of them even has a "heavy" tag. She's in the back seat, I'm in the front, -Ballymun, she says. -Sure. Are you alright? I ask. She looks at me. -It's not funny, she says. -I never said it was funny, I say; -I saw what happened and I'm just asking if you're alright.
-I asked you to take me to Ballymun. I didn't ask you to talk to me. I don't want to talk to you. Just take me to Ballymun.
-Fine, whereabouts in Ballymun?
-I'll show you.
-Can you give me the address?
-I said, I'll show you. Weren't you listening to me?
-
So as we get to the lights on the junction with the Old Airport Road and I swing right, she says -Why aren't you going through Santry?
-Because you didn't tell me you wanted me to go through Santry. It's all the same to me. It doesn't make any difference. It's more or less the same distance.
-It makes a difference to me, she says.
-Fine. Would you like me to go back and go through Santry?
-No. I told you I don't want to talk to you.
I've had enough, at this stage.
-Listen, I say, You told me to keep quiet, I kept quiet. Then you asked me why I wasn't going through Santry, and I answered you, and now you're telling me to keep quiet again. You are the rudest person I've ever had in this car. I didn't have to turn around and pick you up, but I saw you were in difficulty and I wanted to help, and right now I'm sorry that I picked you up. I wish I hadn't. I'll drive you to Ballymun.
There's silence. In the mirror I see her stonyfaced staring out the passenger door window. We come into Ballymun and I start to slow, waiting for her to tell me where she wants me to take her. We roll on, no information is forthcoming.
-Where would you like me to go?
-I said, I'll show you. Didn't you hear me? Next right.
She's left it till the last minute to tell me, and I've to get across two lanes of traffic. I say nothing. We swing the right and then she says -left here, but it's too late, and I have to stop and reverse in order to take the left. I still say nothing.
-Stop here, she says, and I do. I tell her the fare and ask, as I always do, -Do you want the receipt?
She looks at me icily. -Is this a joke?
-No, it's not a joke. My meter prints receipts. I'm asking you if you want the recipt. Do you want the recipt?
- No. She gives me the fare.
We get out of the car, I open the boot and put her bags on the ground, turn, get back into the car, wheel it around, and as I drive out of the cul de sac I see her struggling with her keys at the door.