Another Chapter in a Book Where the Chapters are Endless

So we continue with July’s interesting ride tales. I thought for sure having been pulled over would be the best story from the month, but some of my passengers never cease to amaze (or amuse) me. We pick up where we left off on Saturday, July 11. I started driving rather late in the evening because I try to maintain somewhat of a social life.

I should have known that the I was in for some fun when my first pax were two women in their mid-40’s who were tipsy and extremely open about their sexual inclinations. I picked up “Cecilia” and “Sandra” from a local brewery and could tell immediately that these ladies caught a healthy buzz while they were out. Cecilia was irritated that her boyfriend had not picked up her 14 year-old daughter from her friend’s house like he said he would. Sandra was a little bit of an instigator in taking shots at the boyfriend for being so selfish since it was “Girls’ Night Out.” Cecilia gave me directions to where her daughter was and we set off to pick her up.

On our way there, Sandra questioned why Cecilia stayed with the boyfriend who had so little interest in helping her with day-to-day operations, but then chalked it up to “but I guess if the sex is amazing, you have your reasons to stick around.” Cecilia immediately corrected Sandra, admitting that sex with the current boyfriend was just “average.” She’s all about the butt play, and the boyfriend freaks out if she even lurks in that area of his during adult time. That’s like the Lyft holy grail of conversations when passengers start talking about butt stuff.

They asked if I was married, to which I quickly replied “Hell no!” and they laughed and told me to stay smart and single. Cecilia carried on about how her boyfriend is extremely vanilla in the sack and how she likes it rough sometimes.

“I want him to grab my head and push it down on his cock and make me choke on it!” She proclaimed. It made me laugh since most women I know hate giving head. I can only surmise that women like Cecilia are the ones who ruin it for other women when it comes to male expectations in the bedroom. And I’m sure there are tons of men chomping at the bit to find themselves a Cecilia. “I love it when they slap me in the face with their dick!” Cecilia was just precious and all Sandra could do was laugh hysterically at her friend’s candor.

Once we picked up the 14 year-old, the conversation became very tame and we discovered that the boyfriend had been waiting for the daughter to call so he could go get her, and that she didn’t call anyone but Cecilia when she was ready to go. The poor boyfriend was victim of an unfair character assassination during the ride, but of course, the drunken cougars decided that he should have text the 14 year-old to let her know he would go get her when she was ready.

We dropped off the daughter, who did not seem pleased at all that mom was already three sheets to the wind, and I continued driving a couple more miles so Cecilia and Sandra could attend a house party of a mutual friend. It was definitely a fun ride with those two, and I hope to see them again soon.

My second ride of the night was a previous passenger who had opened a new account because she had gotten a new phone. “Tabby” told me that she was headed to a party on the East side from the very southern edge of town. As we made our way to the freeway, I had my second run-in with law enforcement that weekend, only this time, it was through a DUI checkpoint. I have to say, they make those checkpoints extremely confusing for even the most sober drivers, including myself.

First of all, it was not that busy of a street where they had set up their perimeter. Secondly, the floodlights in an otherwise poorly lit area of town were beaming at approaching vehicles. The first officer you see is waving cars through from the median, and another officer about 50 feet further is also motioning as though you should keep driving.

I had my window down, and the glowstache was prominently displayed on my dash when I crept up on the next officer. I was slowing down, but didn’t know if I was to keep going, or stop right there. When I reached his area, I had to ask, “Do I stop or what?” I already had my license in my hand, and the officer reached for it without answering if I should stop.

He looked at it and asked if I’d had anything to drink. I replied “no sir,” as he gave back my license and he said, “have a good night” without even looking at me. I have to wonder if the only reason they ever arrest anyone at a DUI checkpoint is because someone admits to having a few drinks earlier. I can’t imagine that they actually smell the booze and see red watery eyes if they don’t even look at the driver. Are they just banking on people being honest about having boozed it up earlier? Or maybe with the confusing tactic of waving people through, but not telling them to actually stop helps them in describing how some folks drove right through the checkpoint without stopping in their arrest reports. It lends more credibility to the claim that a driver was just drunk and that’s why he or she didn’t stop. But I digress.

Tabby told me about her run-ins with police officers who have tried to get her and her friends to admit to doing drugs while sitting in a car in between classes at the junior college. She told the officer to go ahead and search her car for whatever he thought he would find since he insisted that he was smelling marijuana, and that she and her friends should just admit that is what they were doing. That seems like a common tactic among police; get a suspect to “just admit” something when they don’t have any concrete proof or probable cause of wrong-doing. But again, I digress.

We changed the topic of conversation and Tabby explained that she had tried out for the Voice a few weeks earlier and had been asked back for a second round, but didn’t make it out of that round. By the time she was telling me about her audition experience, we were already pulling up to her destination so I didn’t get to ask her to sing something for me so I could hear for myself how talented she was.

“Ally” and “Sean” were hanging out at a local bar ready to call it a night when they got in my car. As I was pulling away from the parking lot, they spotted a couple of their friends down the road and told me to pull up next to them so they could try to get them in the car. I parked the car a few feet ahead of two guys who were slightly stumbling with their arms around each other shoulders as Sean called out to them to get in the car. One of the guys, who was slightly more inebriated than the other began to unsteadily shuffle towards my vehicle until he saw Ally in the backseat.

“Fuck that. Fuck her, dude.” He mumbled drunkenly, and continued on his way down the sidewalk.

With a heavy sigh, Ally directed me to her address and the three of us were on our way. During the ride, I learned that the drunken guy who refused the ride was actually Ally’s fiancé and was pissed that when they started the night at a bar downtown, she didn’t tell him that her ex-boyfriend was there. Once they got to the bar I had picked her and Sean up from, she mentioned in passing, and her fiancé flew off the handle about it as if she was trying to hide something from him. Chalk it up to drunken rage, or jealous douchebag, but either way, I could imagine that wasn’t a fun night at home if he ever actually made it home that night.

I picked up “Cathy” and a couple of her guy friends when they shut down a bar around the corner from my house. Cathy is a regular now and frequents many of the same watering holes I do, though I have never actually seen her in a social setting. Since it was after 2:00 am and no liquor would be sold, we stopped at her friend’s house first so he could grab a bottle of Jack Daniels and continue drinking at the motel down the street where they were planning to check in for the night. One of their buddies was in town from North Dakota and they were looking to continue the party until everyone was too drunk to remain conscious. You gotta admire those booze warriors.

My final fare of the night was requested by a woman who wanted me to pick up her husband from a bar downtown after he had just played a gig with his band. They loaded the equipment into my trunk and “Joe” and his buddy “John” piled in my car and bombarded me with questions about my experience with Lyft and regaled me about their stories with Lyft, Uber, and cabs in general. Both gentlemen had consumed a fair amount of alcohol and it wasn’t until halfway through the ride that I recognized John as a kid I went to Jr. High with. I didn’t ask him if he remembered me, in all likelihood, he probably wouldn’t have considering his level of intoxication and the fact that we haven’t seen each other in more than 20 years. But it just goes to show you how small this town can be and how funny the job is.

The next day was really slow for rides. I only had three all day, but the most memorable had to be my second fare. I picked up both Artie and his boyfriend Andy. It was the first time I had ever ridden with both of them. They first had to go to Home Depot to pick up some items for Andy and his jewelry-making business then our next destination was Radio Shack. I didn’t even know Radio Shack still existed.

I waited for them in the parking lot at Home Depot, and when they got back in the car, we started to reverse from our spot. We were talking as I was slowly backing out, and didn’t notice or hear a man and a woman with several wooden planks on a cart saying “Hellooo! Helloooo!” behind my car. When I finally saw them, I stopped and they continued rolling their wood to their big ass diesel truck that was a few spots passed where I was.

Andy’s window happened to be rolled down when they passed by, and although I didn’t hear it, Andy said that the woman muttered “bitch” under her breath. I don’t get riled up easily by complete strangers, so it didn’t bother me none, but boy, Andy went into bitchy queen mode and came unglued. As we drove past them, Andy yelled out the window, “Don’t be calling anyone a bitch, you stupid bitch, fuck you, you old hag!” and proceeded to flip them off as we exited the parking lot.

I could tell that the woman was caught off guard being called out like that and I couldn’t exactly make out what she was screaming back to Andy, but I was laughing while Artie just shook his head and quietly said “you see what I have to put up with? He’s always like this.” That just made me laugh even more.

On the way to Radio Shack, the boys were trying to decide what they were going to eat for lunch until Andy said “UGH! That bitch just put me in the worst mood! I can’t even believe her. Now I’m mad. She ruined my whole day.” I’m stoked that my regular pax have my back even when it’s no big deal to me.

Deepak was my third fare that night, and as annoying as he is, I was even more annoyed when I drove all the way to his house to pick him up and as we were about half a mile from his house on our way to the casino, he said that he was too tired and that he wanted to just go back home. Not a very spectacular way to end a Sunday but that’s how I ended mine.

On Monday, July 13, I logged in late in the afternoon and my first call was from D.J., the strip club DJ. It was just him this time and he needed to go to the grocery store for dogfood after I picked him up from a Popeye’s Chicken. D.J. related that he was feeling pretty emotional that day because he just signed a letter allowing his ex-father-in-law to take his three kids ages 9, 10, and 12, to go live with their mom in Canada.

He said that he had pretty much raised the kids since he and their mom split over seven years ago. She moved to Canada when they were still very little and while they had only visited her once over there and she had come to see them only a handful of times, the kids were very much interested in developing a relationship with her and had decided that they would like to give living with her a try. As he was explaining the story, it became very apparent how much he loved his children.

He spoke to his only son (the 9 year-old) one on one and told him that this was an adult decision he was making, and that he needed to be a man of his word and own the decision for at least a year. D.J. was firm with his children in that he was going to let them move in with mom, but that they had to commit to at least a year because he was not going to pull them out of school in the middle of the year because they all of a sudden decided that they don’t like living with mom. Even though it pained him to let them go, he wasn’t going to stand in the way of them having a relationship with their mother. They were set to leave the last week of July.

Later that evening, Pedro requested a ride. Pedro is a fellow Lyft driver and was requesting a ride for his very inebriated cousin “Juan” and Juan’s 10 year-old daughter. Pedro called me to tell me that Juan was extremely intoxicated and would probably be a pain in the ass so he was apologizing in advance if Juan did anything offensive or was rude and obnoxious. I laughed and told him it was no problem, we’ve all been there.

I pulled up to address Pedro gave me and saw four or five people sitting out in the front yard and one shorter Hispanic man talking loudly and walking toward my car with an open can of Bud Light. He hurled a few slurred yells back at the party who was yelling at him, presumably because he was so drunk. Juan got in the car and was a very flamboyant gay man and yelled through my window for his daughter to come with us.

A little girl came up to my window and gave me the address I was to drop Juan off at and apologized for her dad being so drunk. It was funny, but sad at the same time. At first the girl wasn’t going to go with us, but then realized that they had to leave for out of town early the next morning so she ran back to the house to grab her backpack and the rest of her things.

I directed Juan to either finish his beer, or leave it outside the car, because the last thing I wanted was to get pulled over for this drunk sloshing around an open container in my car. He pounded what was left in the can and haphazardly tossed the empty can out the window onto the neighbor’s driveway. The 10 year-old got in my backseat and we were on the road, with Juan woohooing the whole way down the freeway. I lost count of how many times the girl said “Dad, shut up you’re drunk.”

Juan wanted to make a quick pit stop at the 7-11 to get more beer and cigarettes. I obliged him, but quickly realized with how fucked up he was, that stopping may have been a mistake. As he got out of the car, he asked the little girl if she had any money. When she said no, he stumbled into the store anyway.

As we waited for him to make his purchases, the little girl explained, “If you haven’t already guessed, he’s gay.” I wasn’t quite sure how to respond but just kind of smiled at her from the rearview mirror. She told me that sometimes their family was mean to him, and that’s why they left, because they were kind of making fun of him. I figured he was really drunk and they were just irritated with him, but I felt bad for the little girl who sees them as making fun of her dad. One of her dad’s brothers had passed away and that’s they the family had all gotten together and they were leaving for Sacramento in the morning where her uncle would be buried.

I saw Juan swaying at the register as he spoke with the man behind the counter. I thought for a minute maybe his card wasn’t working or something and contemplated for a moment whether I was going to have to actually go in and retrieve him. Luckily he was only in there for another minute or so before grabbing his bag of purchases and walking out the door.

He fell into my front seat again and excitedly yelled “what’s up motherfuckers?!” Despite his drunken stupor, Juan was rather entertaining. I dropped them both off and watched him storm into the house, again screaming “what’s up motherfuckers?!” I bet he’s a party. I later received a very nice comment from Pedro thanking me for getting his drunken family member home safely. You can read the comment on one of the photos from the previous post.

Later that evening I picked Artie up from work and took him to McDonald’s so he could get a late dinner for him and Andy. As we waited, Artie explained how he’s basically Andy’s mommy because he lays out his clothes for him for work every day. Sounds to me like Artie is the housewife, but that’s none of my business. 😉

The next day was another slow one. Tuesday’s usually pick up a bit because of the delicious taco specials so many restaurants around town offer. I took a guy to work at T-Mobile and had a pleasant conversation about dogs, bad drivers and how cats suck. “Jeremy” was super excited that I had candy and gum and took advantage of my customer service in that area.

Artie was my next fare and I actually picked him up from a grocery store for the first time in quite a few weeks. Before we took him home, we stopped by the mall to pick up Andy from work who had grabbed them some Chipotle for them. It just recently opened in the mall and Andy said he had pretty much been eating there every day since.

My third fare of the day again belonged to Gus, the Indian guy who I had referred to another attorney friend of mine. I picked him up from his house again, where he had just been hanging out with his wife, despite the criminal protective order in place for her. He was delighted to see me and told me that he wanted me to take him to my attorney friend right after I took him to the post office so he could deliver some packages. We talked a little about his case and he again asked me advice about firing his current attorney. Before he got out of the car at the post office, he told me how he was so grateful that he got me as a driver because he had been thinking about our last conversation and wanted to thank me again for talking to him about all that was going on with him. One thing that struck me about this ride was that Gus seemed to be a little paranoid and told me to let him know if I thought someone was following us.

I gave him my attorney friend’s number again and told him that I couldn’t just take him to his house, that he would need to schedule an appointment. He called my friend as I was driving him to the mall and left a message that I had given him his number. Once we arrived at his destination, he again looked me in the eye, told me how grateful he was to me and that I must be his guardian angel. We shook hands and he was gone.

After a couple of hours of no calls, I was about to log out of driver mode for the night, when I got Artie’s request for the second time that day. I picked him up from home and took him to Wienerschnitzel because, again, he and Andy needed to eat.

On Wednesday, July 15, Gus again requested a ride. This time, it was from a different residential address than I had been picking him up from before. When he got in the car, he again raved about how I’m his angel because he wanted to talk to me again. He told me that my friend never called him back, and I thought it was a tad strange, so I assured him I would text my friend and find out what was happening. As usual, Gus was very polite and thankful to me and shook my hand before getting out of my car at his house. He did tell me that his wife was staying with family so that way he wouldn’t get in trouble if the cops decided to stop by unannounced.

Like I said, Gus is a bit paranoid because during this ride, he was convinced that someone was tracking his internet activity and he believed it was an old friend who had done some computer work for him many years before. I just smiled and nodded placating his odd behavior.

My second and third fare was the same woman. She reminded me of Emma Stone, including the weird mouth thing that girl has. I picked her up from her boyfriend’s house, but learned that he was out of town with some buddies and she was going to have dinner before heading downtown to see a comedy show with a friend of hers. I dropped her off at the restaurant, then waited about a mile down the road for her second request.

Luckily I got it, and it was a solid fare since we ended up picking her friend up and that was out of the way of the comedy show. She was telling me about her much older boyfriend who was a doctor. She admitted that to most girls, he wasn’t attractive, but that she found him very attractive. She scrolled through her phone and showed me a photo of him, and when I saw it, I immediately recognized that he looked like Woogie from There’s Something About Mary. In case you forgot who that is, it’s this guy, Chris Elliott.


I shit you not, the guy is a dead ringer for this actor.

“Brittany” explained that it’s kind of a sore spot with her boyfriend, because everywhere they go, people tell him he reminds them of Woogie. I could only laugh and nod in agreement.

July 18, 2015

I decided to try my hand at making a little money while on a mini weekend vacation in Huntington Beach. After spending more hours in the car on the way to Huntington on Friday, July 17, I decided to take it easy and just hang with friends and make a healthy dinner to accommodate this serious diet I’ve been one for the last couple of months.

I woke up early on Saturday, which I never do when I’m in HB and logged in as a driver around 8:15 a.m. I was logged in for less than five minutes when I got my first request. “Kylie” was waiting at an AMPM gas station for me just around the corner from her boyfriend’s house who had already left for work. They had been to a ska show the night before and Kylie freely admitted that she was very hungover, so I kept the conversation to a minimum, because the last thing I want to do when I’m hungover is talk to people.

Kylie did tell me that she lived in San Diego, but that she had lived in Orange County for a brief period during school. Our destination was Costa Mesa and was a decent distance for the first fare of the morning.

After I dropped off Kylie, I was having problems with the app because while I was following Google Maps directions back to my friend’s house, I got another request just a minute later. I tried getting back to the app to accept the request, but unfortunately, it froze up and I didn’t get the fare in time. I went back to the map program to continue following directions and as I pulled up to my friend’s house, I went back to the app and saw that another request had come in that I had missed, but the phone had never alerted to the request like it normally does. I can only chalk it up to possible connectivity problems because that had never happened before.

Almost immediately as I pulled up to my friend’s house again, I received a request from “Steve” in the apartment complex that was halfway down the block. He had his wife or girlfriend with him and a couple of duffel bags. Their destination was an Irish restaurant just one town over in Fountain Valley. I gathered from their conversation that Steve was in a band that was traveling at the time.

My third fare was a nice young couple who was headed to Newport Beach to attend a wedding on a Yacht. It was a tad overcast at the beach at the time and was the weekend of the big thunderstorms in San Diego, LA and Bakersfield. H.B. was spared, but the humid overcast did lead to scattered sprinkles which made for a nice drive along PCH.

After the first three fares, I logged out for a bit and caught Trainwreck at Bella Terra. Funny stuff, though not a great movie by any means. John Cena definitely stole the show in that flick. When we returned to my weekend retreat, I helped make dinner then got a call from “Tyson” the Italian guy and his Asian friend, “Neil.” They were planning on meeting up with some chicks, and arguing over which chick was “theirs” for the night. They were pretty funny, and had me cracking up the entire drive to Irvine with their herpes jokes.

They were going to one of the girl’s apartments that one of them would be hooking up with later. They had never been to her house, and complained about how far it was when we were nearly there. Neil seemed to be the one who procured these girls they were meeting up with and taking to the Orange County Fair. He kept showing Tyson photos of chicks he was “talking to online” and every so often, I’d hear Tyson rant and rave about how hot some of the chicks were. Sometimes this job really is just a one big sociology study on human behavior toward the opposite sex. It was refreshing that while they were funny and joking around, they were never disrespectful in their discussions.

Later that evening, I picked up “Gigi” from McDonald’s as she was just ending her shift. I explained to her that I didn’t live in HB and where I was from. For some odd reason, she said that she had always wanted to go to my hometown. I warned her that it was an extremely boring place to live and that there’s nothing really fun to do so it would be a waste of a trip. Then she said that she’d really like to visit Taft, because some music video was filmed there. I hated to burst her bubble, but I had to be honest and tell her that Taft was a bigger shit hole than Bako and that she should aim higher in terms of travel experiences. I’ve never heard anyone say that they actually wanted to go to Taft, so it was quite strange.

As soon as Gigi’s Lyft was complete, I immediately received a request from “Felice.” I waited on her and her boyfriend for just a couple of minutes, but when they got in the backseat, wow! They reeked of booze, but were quite able to maintain. They told me that they had been day drinking at a bar earlier and were ready to head downtown to another bar and finish the night. Shakira provided the soundtrack for our ride and both Felice and her boyfriend sang the chorus to “Hips Don’t Lie” while not giving a single fuck. It was fabulous. I learned that Felice was getting ready to visit her sister back in Italy in a few weeks, but I couldn’t tell if Felice had an Italian accent or maybe a hint of a Portuguese accent. Either way, she was a lovely young lady.

Each time I tried making my way back to CenCom, I would get another request. I was definitely loving the consistency of each fare request and hope that I can try to make it back down to HB at least once a month to drive and make pretty good dough. It seemed like there were a lot more users in Orange County than back at home.

“Davin” and his buddy requested a ride and I picked them up from an area of the town I wasn’t too familiar with. They too wanted to head downtown with there’s no shortage of bars and clubs along Main Street. When they got in, I directed them to the goodies they could help themselves too, and asked what they would like to listen to on Satellite radio which I typically try to ask each of my pax.

Davin’s tall blonde friend asked if I could put it on xL Backspin, which at the time was channel 46. When I would catch the blonde guy in my rearview mirror, he reminded me of an old friend named Paul who passed away five years ago this September 1.


My buddy, Paul. RIP ❤

Paul’s doppelgänger was just a young Huntington Beach white boy with a taste for 80’s and 90’s hip-hop. This became evident when these two baby-faced white boys hollered “OOOOOOOHHHHHH!” when the bass line drum intro to Geto Boys’ “Damn It Feels Good to be a Gangsta” kicked in.

Damn, It feels Good to be a Gangsta

For those unfamiliar with the song, but have maybe seen the movie “Office Space,” this is the jam that’s playing during Peter’s carefree montage of living life and working post-hypnosis without being so high strung.

Office Space Gangsta Scene

Much to my surprise, these boys rapped along with the song in its entirety and lamented their high school days. At the risk of sounding old, they couldn’t have been too far gone from high school because they both looked extremely young. If I were keeping score, I’d probably say that the best and most fun rides for me are when there are two really cool guys are in my car talking about whatever and jamming out to their favorite tunes. It’s also funny to me that the only people who ever actually have music preferences during the trip are typically young men. It also cracks me up how much some white guys love rap. I dropped Davin and his blonde friend off in front of a bust Main Street bar while my stereo system blared Public Enemy’s “Fight the Power.”

“Les” and a bunch of his friends standing outside an apartment complex were waiting for me and another driver to escort them downtown so that they could party. What was weird was that the three girls that piled into my backseat while Les occupied the front weren’t dressed to the nines, opting instead for casual jeans and tops with flip flops or sneakers. I guess that’s not really the weird part given I was in the middle of a bro-beach town. I suppose the weird part was that they were literally three blocks from the middle of downtown that they could’ve walked instead of paying the three dollar fare.

But that lead me to another discovery about the Lyft system. Anytime I see the final fare at the end of a ride, the pax sees a different total. Their total is $1.50 more which is Lyft’s “Trust and Safety Fee.” But what was even more surprising is that rates in Huntington Beach are actually less than those in Bako. The base fare in Bako for a short ride is $4.00, while the HB ride minimum is $3.00.

My final fare of the night came shortly before midnight from “Chucky” and who I assume was his girlfriend. His apartment was just a block from PCH and the beach and when the couple got in, I was directed to the Newport Peninsula. We set off on PCH and I could feel a slight tension in the air given the silence in the backseat. My Spidey senses were tingling and I presumed that the couple may have been fighting before I picked them up.

About halfway into our trip down a drizzly PCH, Chucky apologized and asked if I could turn around and take them back where I had picked them up. No problem, buddy. Sounds like you got some major ass kissing to do since your girl doesn’t seem to happy with you. Of course, this is just what I thought, I didn’t actually say that to him.

I arrived back at my weekend base right around midnight and despite how busy Saturday night could have turned out, I opted to chill and hang with my hospitable homies for the rest of the night.

July 19, 2015

Sundays are typically slow, but being in a new city, I was eager to see how many fares I could get before I got back on the road home. My first catch of the day happened to be an older lady who was in the shopping center right across the street from where I was staying. “Jacky” was probably in her mid-60s or so, and her daughter had told her about Lyft since her car was in the shop. She had taken the bus to the shopping center, but I was her very first Lyft ride and she had many questions which I answered politely and to her satisfaction. She gave me a five star rating and left me a very nice comment about her first experience and how I made her feel very safe. If Lyft is keeping a personnel file on me, then comments like that should work to my advantage and I should get a bonus, right?

“Wong” was my second Lyft request waiting for me at Home Depot. He bought a ladder so we had to fold my backseat down so that it could accommodate more trunk space for him. He didn’t seem to speak very fluent English so it was a pretty quiet ride for just a few blocks for the minimum fare.

“Dave” sought a ride for his 14 year-old son and his friend who were waiting for me in swim trunks and carrying boogie boards. They just wanted to head down to the beach so they could go boarding. Beach kids are so lucky. I remember boarding in the waters of the San Diego beaches as much as I could during law school. Those were the days.

“Sylvia” lived in the same neighborhood as Chucky from the night before and was on her way to the big swap meet they have every weekend at Goldenwest Junior College. She was on the hunt for new luggage. We stopped so she could grab some cash and chatted along the way about the crazy weather and weird humidity it brought over the weekend. I learned that Sylvia was originally from Florida. When I questioned if it was business or pleasure, she truthfully admitted that what brought her out here was a 90-day rehab/recovery facility. After a surgery a few years ago, she became addicted to pain pills and was seeking treatment for it. She was very candid about it and confessed that she may have actually traded in her opiate addiction for a shopping addiction because she had been spending a little more money than she cared to admit as of late.

My final HB request came immediately after Sylvia was on her way to get her shopping fix. The first thing I noticed about “Max” was his very defined thigh muscle that started just above his knee when he got into my car. Max had a hell of a time the night before partying it up with friends and Jameson and was still hungover at 1:30 pm when I scooped him up from his house.

Max was a very good looking 24 year-old personal trainer. Blonde with an All-American boy smile, Max was pleasant, polite, and quite entertaining as he recorded a “Snap Story” on his Snapchat account, featuring me as we drove him back to his car. The coolest thing about Max was that when he learned I didn’t live in town, he told me to disregard my Google maps directions and said he was in no rush so we could take the scenic route along PCH. We talked about his job, favorite cocktails, and laughed about both having seen Trainwreck over the weekend. He agreed that John Cena was the quintessential meat head in the film, and since he works with meat heads all day, I imagine that Max knows what he’s talking about. It was the perfect fare to end my HB work day.

I got back in town before the sunset and logged back in around 7:30 pm. “Oz” needed a ride from his gig at Chuck E. Cheese and was in a bit of a hurry. He had gotten off work late, and he and his girlfriend were supposed to go to the 8:00 pm showing of Trainwreck and she got pissed that he was asked to stay late. I wished him luck as he jumped out of my car and ran into his house.

A half an hour later, a very good looking photo of “Adam” popped up on my phone. “Hell yes, I’ll go pick you up, hot stuff.” I thought to myself. Okay, I may have said it out loud as well. It was like I hit the weekend Lyft jackpot of good looking male pax. I have yet to have a stunningly hot female pax though. Again, I digress.

Imagine my disappointment when Adam swished his way out of the Mexican restaurant (where Will works) with tears in his eyes. He gave me an address, but was extremely distraught. He asked me, “How can you say you love someone if you don’t want to run away and be with that person forever?” Kind of a loaded question, Adam, but let’s talk about this, shall we?

Adam went into detail about how he was in love with a married man. This married man strings him along and plays with his emotions. He tells Adam that he loves him, and that if he would have met him three months before, he never would have married his wife. Sounds like a narcissistic, selfish closet case to me. Adam has a good job as a collector and moonlights as a bartender at various places here in town, including the most popular gay bar.

He begged his married boyfriend to leave town with him and start a new life somewhere, but was rejected. The way Adam was talking, it sounded to me like he ended it for good with the guy, because he was never going to leave his wife. He cried some more and just looked so defeated and tormented that I felt so sorry for him. The most surprising thing about the story Adam told was the fact that the wife knows about her husband’s philandering. But she doesn’t want to let him go either, so we have a stalemate love triangle folks. It’s so delicious. I love this job.

“Jose” and his wife were about to celebrate their 17th Anniversary, late on a Sunday night. We headed to a fairly new bar so they could get drinks and dinner and when we arrived, it was already closed. Faced with the reality of getting such a late start, the couple started kind of arguing about whether to go back home or pick a different spot for dinner and drinks. I rattled off a few suggestions, but they ultimately decided on the Moose Lodge.

My final fare for the evening belonged to one of my favorite DUI clients. I’d given “Javi” rides before, and if you’ll recall from a previous post, he’s the client who is Fredo’s cousin. Usually when I’m taking Javi home, I’m wearing both my lawyer hat and my Lyft hat, because inevitably we start talking about his case. This ride was no different. By the time I dropped Javi off, it was passed 11, and I was ready to call it a successful weekend.

I know I left you guys hanging last time about who I suspected was the pax who wasn’t showing the love in terms of my rating, but guess what? Everyone is a suspect. But because we’re 2/3rds of the way through July and there are so many more stories, I’m going to have to leave you with another cliffhanger. I’ll be interested to hear if you guys have any suspects yet. If so, please leave a comment with your guesses. In the meantime, I will work on the final July post and hopefully include some of my interesting August rides so far as well.

Until then, stay safe, and keep both eyes on the road!


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