Las Vegas has more taxis than trees, but I live on the outskirts near the Boulder Strip and few are brave enough to cruise the area. Not that cruising helps helps any; in Las Vegas, it is illegal to stand at the curb and hail a cab. All taxis are dispatch controlled, but rather than be bothered to send Car X to Location Y, they just assign them to fuzzy zones in the dedicated pools surrounding the major casinos. There, drivers simply queue like vultures, guaranteed a fare.
I waited outside Sam’s Town for a little over an hour, eventually throwing myself under the wheels of a taxi that happened into the parking lot to drop off a fare.
In other news, when running behind schedule I check my wrist as one would do in a cartoon. I don’t wear a watch, but it gives me something to do.