The Uber jingle alerts me to a potential pickup in the Mission District in San Francisco. I will call the rider Beth. I follow the blue line to the green dot (Uber driver app specific). I spot her leaning against a street light post. She looked like a supermodel who just left a photo shoot; not a drag queen, but a supermodel. She stumbles into the car. She is extremely inebriated and reeked of alcohol, the air in the car thickens. "Hi Beth", I said. She tried to answer and before then, I hadn't realized it was possible to slur the word "Hi". She lived in the Cow Hollow area, so it was going to take some time. The Uber app says the trip will take 20 minutes, but the app is rarely correct in its estimations. I didn't say anything to her as I expect it would be really hard to understand anything she said, so I just focused on driving in silence. I cross my fingers hoping that later, I wouldn't be trying to find a place to wash my car's upholstery.
After sitting in stoplight traffic for 20 minutes, I look to the back seat from the rear view mirror and she had fallen asleep. That was fine. Good for her I thought, sleep it off. So many scenarios went through my head. Will she die like a Rock Star by drowning in her own vomit? If she pukes, I'll have to pull over. My stress comes from a basic fear of the unknown in this moment. As I approach her address, I turn a corner and hear fabric against fabric sliding, she had fallen over, passed out in the back seat. "Oh Shit", I said under my breath. It was just a few more minutes until I reached her address. I found a place to pull over, which you may or may not know is nearly impossible in San Francisco, I consider myself lucky. I open the door and said, "Beth?, we're here". No answer, no movement. I repeat myself a bit louder this time, "Beth? Beth? We're here". No answer, no movement. I pause to consider my options. In days past it would have been considered a gentle gesture to shake someone's shoulder in this scenario. But not in this future. More scenarios pass through my mind. I can't leave her on the sidewalk, even if I could remove her from my car. The thought of being here with her for an extended amount of time concerns me as it could impact my income for the day. If I call the Police, she could be fined for being drunk in public. If I call an ambulance, it could cost her a lot of money. Though I will consider it if the situation becomes life threatening, but then it might be life threatening now as I have no idea how much she drank. I left her there in the car and went to the door to the address she gave, hoping she had roommates. I knocked. A man answered the door. I thought I had the issue resolved and I was a bit relieved.
"Hi, I'm Beth's Uber driver and she is unable to exit my car."
"Who the Fuck is Beth?", he says.
"She entered this address as her drop off", I point out.
"Well she doesn't live here", he slams the door. His response strikes me as disrespectful. "Sorry, I can't help you" would have been a more human offering and at the same time I realize I'm self conscious as an Uber driver at 58 years old. I feel my cheeks turning red.
I go to the next door and knock, no answer. I knock again. No answer. I go to the next door and knock, no answer. I try all four doors at that building. I decide to go to the next building and promise myself this is the last building I'm going to before I call an ambulance for Beth (An ambulance is a better choice, as a ticket would cost more and offer no medical assistance). I look back to make sure Beth is still in the car, I see no movement, but somehow her high heel was sticking out of the open door.
I knock on the first door. No answer. "Fuck", I say silently. I'm feeling embarrassed and I'm frustrated. I knock on the 2nd door, a young women answers. "Hi, I'm an Uber driver and I'm trying to drop off a rider, her name is Beth, do you .."
"Oh shit, Beth. Where is she?" she exclaims.
"She passed out in my back seat, I need someone she knows to get her out of the car."
"Of course, of course, hold on".
I didn't ask her name, but she was able to wake Beth and usher her out of the vehicle. I politely offered my help, but her roommate insisted she could handle Beth by herself. I suspected having a stranger, specially an Uber driver help her, may have been discomforting. I closed the door and left as they struggled on the sidewalk. Just a few feet away, while I was at a stop sign, I looked back to watch them nearly fall. I didn't hang around long enough to watch them negotiate the ten steps to their front door.
It's not unusual for women to give anonymous addresses for pick ups and drops offs, many other people take this approach as well. This is done in an attempt to protect them from the creeps of the world, I get it. I felt lucky to be done with that ride, but I know from experience others like this are coming soon.
Like Coke, Uber has now reached a brand status which appears sealed in social interaction and pop culture. Even people who use Lyft occasionally refer to it casually - "I'm going to Uber". Uber is the new floating convertible, gliding across the dessert on a remote planet in deep space and I, like Obi Wan, meet many types of odd and seemingly normal beings while driving. There is one thing I can say with certainty, everyone has a story and some of these stories can be deeply personal.
It is easy to imagine that many people hold judgements about the type of person who drives for Uber and about the work itself. That is, if they think about it at all. Distain and mockery for the Uber driver is frequently expressed and it could be argued that it is natural course. It seems to be a silent, but common understanding amongst the populace that Uber drivers are inept, anti-social, incapable, mindless, untalented individuals. It is an assumption that Uber drivers where born yesterday and never accomplished anything else in their lives, that they had no passion. It is also a common belief that there is truth in every joke.
After sitting in stoplight traffic for 20 minutes, I look to the back seat from the rear view mirror and she had fallen asleep. That was fine. Good for her I thought, sleep it off. So many scenarios went through my head. Will she die like a Rock Star by drowning in her own vomit? If she pukes, I'll have to pull over. My stress comes from a basic fear of the unknown in this moment. As I approach her address, I turn a corner and hear fabric against fabric sliding, she had fallen over, passed out in the back seat. "Oh Shit", I said under my breath. It was just a few more minutes until I reached her address. I found a place to pull over, which you may or may not know is nearly impossible in San Francisco, I consider myself lucky. I open the door and said, "Beth?, we're here". No answer, no movement. I repeat myself a bit louder this time, "Beth? Beth? We're here". No answer, no movement. I pause to consider my options. In days past it would have been considered a gentle gesture to shake someone's shoulder in this scenario. But not in this future. More scenarios pass through my mind. I can't leave her on the sidewalk, even if I could remove her from my car. The thought of being here with her for an extended amount of time concerns me as it could impact my income for the day. If I call the Police, she could be fined for being drunk in public. If I call an ambulance, it could cost her a lot of money. Though I will consider it if the situation becomes life threatening, but then it might be life threatening now as I have no idea how much she drank. I left her there in the car and went to the door to the address she gave, hoping she had roommates. I knocked. A man answered the door. I thought I had the issue resolved and I was a bit relieved.
 |
| Not the actual building... |
"Who the Fuck is Beth?", he says.
"She entered this address as her drop off", I point out.
"Well she doesn't live here", he slams the door. His response strikes me as disrespectful. "Sorry, I can't help you" would have been a more human offering and at the same time I realize I'm self conscious as an Uber driver at 58 years old. I feel my cheeks turning red.
I go to the next door and knock, no answer. I knock again. No answer. I go to the next door and knock, no answer. I try all four doors at that building. I decide to go to the next building and promise myself this is the last building I'm going to before I call an ambulance for Beth (An ambulance is a better choice, as a ticket would cost more and offer no medical assistance). I look back to make sure Beth is still in the car, I see no movement, but somehow her high heel was sticking out of the open door.
I knock on the first door. No answer. "Fuck", I say silently. I'm feeling embarrassed and I'm frustrated. I knock on the 2nd door, a young women answers. "Hi, I'm an Uber driver and I'm trying to drop off a rider, her name is Beth, do you .."
"Oh shit, Beth. Where is she?" she exclaims.
"She passed out in my back seat, I need someone she knows to get her out of the car."
"Of course, of course, hold on".
I didn't ask her name, but she was able to wake Beth and usher her out of the vehicle. I politely offered my help, but her roommate insisted she could handle Beth by herself. I suspected having a stranger, specially an Uber driver help her, may have been discomforting. I closed the door and left as they struggled on the sidewalk. Just a few feet away, while I was at a stop sign, I looked back to watch them nearly fall. I didn't hang around long enough to watch them negotiate the ten steps to their front door.
It's not unusual for women to give anonymous addresses for pick ups and drops offs, many other people take this approach as well. This is done in an attempt to protect them from the creeps of the world, I get it. I felt lucky to be done with that ride, but I know from experience others like this are coming soon.
* * *
Like Coke, Uber has now reached a brand status which appears sealed in social interaction and pop culture. Even people who use Lyft occasionally refer to it casually - "I'm going to Uber". Uber is the new floating convertible, gliding across the dessert on a remote planet in deep space and I, like Obi Wan, meet many types of odd and seemingly normal beings while driving. There is one thing I can say with certainty, everyone has a story and some of these stories can be deeply personal.
It is easy to imagine that many people hold judgements about the type of person who drives for Uber and about the work itself. That is, if they think about it at all. Distain and mockery for the Uber driver is frequently expressed and it could be argued that it is natural course. It seems to be a silent, but common understanding amongst the populace that Uber drivers are inept, anti-social, incapable, mindless, untalented individuals. It is an assumption that Uber drivers where born yesterday and never accomplished anything else in their lives, that they had no passion. It is also a common belief that there is truth in every joke.
Often, during the transport of riders, I find myself enduring repeated attempts to penetrate that barrier; the barrier formed of unease and retention. I am not insensitive, so I easily accept not speaking with my riders, but I am also aware that not all my riders seek to impose this boundary, thereby voluntarily engaging in conversation. I've discovered that people are wrapped up in their own stories, their own moments, their own thoughts, their own life. The inside of a car can be a quiet respite from all of that mind fodder and in contrast, snowball into a fervent and comedic cacophony. I enjoy both at times.
There is much to observe from the driver seat. It's similar to being the hairdresser, or massage therapist or dentist asking you questions while his fingers are in your mouth. Equally, there is so much to consider outside conversation. I've grown a sensitivity to my various observations and physical senses while driving for Uber. I think about how they tie into current events, past and present. Because I travel up to 12 hours a day in a car in greater portions of California's Silicon Valley and surrounding Bay Area, I have much to take in. I was born here. In that time it has become an epicenter of international commerce; the tech capitol of the world. That fact is an important consideration and is occasionally weaved into my posts, but whether or not a conversation commences during any particular ride, I still apply my imagination, instincts and intuition.
Many would assert that driving for Uber is a simple matter of driving from point to point. That there is no skill to be had or to advance in, that it is devoid of intellectual pursuit. Those opinions may hold some truth, but consider this, the human condition it seems, is universal. For me, driving for Uber is a unique place from which to observe and to take note.
In any one day, I will see license plates from all over the United States; Montana, Nevada, Louisiana, New Jersey, New York, Michigan, Minnesota, Oklahoma and more. Each day I will hear at least ten different languages, Chinese (Cantonese and Mandarin), Farse, Hindi, Taiwanese, Arabic, Spanish (Mexican and European), Portuguese and more. So far there is enough evidence to suggest that there is a common thread in the human condition.
I liken my following blog post's stories to the Japanese Pachinko game, where the rider's stories are the steel balls. They make a lot of noise as the bounce down chaotically and independently, inevitably landing in the same place - This is why I blog, this is what I want to share.
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