Uber, Cairo, and the Scams.

After the romantic post dedicated to Cairo’s taxi drivers, here comes a brutal plunge into reality.

There’s an experience every traveler should have at least once in their life to truly understand the meaning of the word scam. And no, we’re not talking about buying a fake Anubis statuette for $200 or paying a European-level ticket price to enter the Egyptian Museum. We’re talking about something far more sophisticated: booking an Uber in Cairo.

Here’s how it works: you, poor naïve Westerner, open the app, see a fair price, enter your pick-up point, and smile, thinking that modernity has finally reached the capital of the pharaonic civilization. Then you hit “Confirm Ride” — and the theatre of the absurd begins.

Within thirty seconds, the first message pops up: “Only 30 USD cash ok 👍.” A few moments later comes the second: “Please, give me a good price.” Of course — because the driver isn’t a digital-era service worker anymore; he’s suddenly a victim of the system, a modern-day Che Guevara of the taximeter, ready to overthrow capitalism from inside the app.

If you dare to reply, “No, the price is the one shown on Uber,” you trigger phase two of the scam: the dramatic recital of creative excuses. “Road closed,” “extra toll,” “rush hour,” “different route,” “the app is always wrong” — a new justification every day, just like election promises but with more emojis.

The ugly truth is simple: many drivers in Cairo don’t use Uber to provide a service — they use it to hook unsuspecting tourists and drag them into a private, off-platform negotiation. You’re no longer using a ride-sharing app; you’re unwillingly taking part in a back-alley auction where the grand prize is your wallet.

A system that’s supposed to guarantee transparency has instead turned into a playground for improvisation and extortion — delivered with a smile.

Why does all this happen? Because in Cairo, the concept of a rule is merely a suggestion, and a contract is just the starting point for an endless negotiation. Uber was designed, in theory, to eliminate haggling — but in Cairo, it serves only to start it.

So, if you think you’re going to get from A to B with a single tap, get ready to discover that you’ll have to pass through C first: Cash, Confrontation, and a full-blown Crisis of nerves.

The advice may sound brutal, but it’s necessary: reject any extra payment requests, report the driver immediately, cancel the ride, and book again. Every time you agree to pay $30 for a $12 trip, you’re funding the 2.0 version of the classic “clueless tourist” scam — and helping to keep it alive. By the way, when you cancel the ride, there’s an option on Uber that says “The driver requested payment outside the app.” It’s a little buried in the menu, but it’s there.

In Cairo, the desert is everywhere — not just beyond the city limits, but even inside the app, where respect for the rules evaporates faster than the Nile at noon. And as long as there are travelers willing to pay “because, after all, it’s just ten extra dollars,” the hustlers will keep thriving.