Sorry the Bentley was in the shop, princess.

You're not on vacation, you're at work. Who cares what takes you to the hotel?

(I'll make an exception for the old GRK cab driver that almost certainly had to go door to door in his neighborhood and introduce himself by law. That and he once was late picking us up in the morning, which I can deal with, but he felt that the correct thing to do was drive 120 mph in his hot-rod cab. What was his name anyway, Ernie? Eli? Someone help me out here...)