Taxi Tales: The driver's made a killing

By the time this thing goes to the web, the hole in my pocket would have been that more deeper, for I foolishly asked the driver to wait for me as I run like hell past Parliament House (Ridge) and headed towards what looked like a white tent to obtain my accredited pass for the ACP Summit tomorrow.

I have been in a queue for the past thirty minutes. Everything is A-ok. Kinda. Just want my pass so I can get outta here. Time is 14h35, and can well imagine that the taxi driver must be feeling that considering the rather-sweltering heat, must have gone and done a runner.

Certainly something my dark side would want me to do. Question is: will I succumb to the easiest option out there right now? Or will I listen to that omscient conscience...

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