It’s time for a weekend mega-post. My first rider on Friday was so hyped about using Uber for the first time that he forgot the tickets to the concert I was taking him to. Hopefully, he was able to find an electronic replacement. I had someone leave their car keys in the back seat but luckily was able to get them returned before the night was out. My last trip of the night took me all the way to Cramerton, just east of Gastonia. I truly don’t understand folks who have to travel 15+ miles home and make the call at 3 am. I also feel it’s worth regaling the tale that one of my other passengers heard from a previous driver they had. It seems that while driving a couple in a rocky relationship on the highway, the woman attempted to jump out of the car. The driver managed to grab her leg and the boyfriend pulled her the rest of the way in. Needless to say, the guy pulled over, paramedics were called, etc. The kicker is that a couple days later, the driver gets reprimanded by Uber support for touching a rider. To the driver from that story, wherever you may be, my heart goes out to you, bro.
Because I went so late on Friday, I didn’t go hard on Saturday but it still proved worth my while. My second trip, and only surge, took me to the same country club where they played the Wells Fargo Championship. Now I’ve never been explicitly put down by passengers like these, but I never feel more intensely aware of my social class than when I’m dropping off people at a country club. I also had was probably my favorite group of riders in a while. We all basically spent the whole trip from 51 to Uptown loudly singing late 90s/early 00s songs like a bunch of idiots. It was a blast, regardless. To cap off the night, I had a debacle of mistaken identity. For the sake of anonymity, let’s call the riders Dana and Donna. Dana asked for a pick-up in a very congested strip in the city. I managed to find a spot to stop and wait and called Dana. She didn’t pick up. At all. All four times I called her in as many minutes. Finally I cancel. Almost immediately, Donna calls for a pick-up on the other side of the traffic light I’m stopped at, though I don’t see her. Then I get on a knock on my door and the person answers to Donna when asked. They also already know my name. They get in and I start to drive when the registered rider cancels. Now all becomes clear: this is Dana who has not realized I cancelled. Cutting to the chase, Dana finds another ride and I told Uber not to charge Donna. Check your phones people. No answer means a no-show means cancelled ride.