Hasa Diga Eebowai

I’m seeing The Book of Mormon this week, hence the title, but you don’t want to hear about that. You want to hear about the weirdos in my backseat. I took two girls to a concert at the PNC Pavilion last Monday where the traffic was so bad one of them left the car to pee in the woods and came back and found us with no trouble at all. Last Friday, I took a drag performer to work which led to some fun conversations on what ended up being a 45-minute trip. I also made a food delivery that night to a hotel in possibly the most sketchy location it could be on a highway access road. Furthermore, I had a rider cancel on me because of trouble with the police. I wish I had more to add to that story but all I can say is there was about 3 minutes between when they ordered me and when I arrived and the police were there when I showed up. Jumping to this past Friday, I had my time wasted by an Indian restaurant who left me waiting by the register for a half hour before realizing they never sent the order to the kitchen. Finally, last night, half my trips were deliveries and half of those didn’t answer the door or their phones when I arrived with their food. I’m convinced people are drunkenly ordering food and then passing out. Either way, I’m free to do with the food as I please after I wait long enough with no answer so I’m good for lunches this week. Until next time, stay gold.


Gotta sweep sweep sweep!

July 4th week turned out to have a drop in requests rather than more of them. Go figure. Last Thursday night, I picked up a gentleman that, based on some subtle nuances in how he spoke and the flow of our conversation, I believe was on the higher functioning end of the autism spectrum but I also believe he tipped me because I didn’t treat him any differently after I got this idea in my head. On Friday, I picked up a guy who worked in construction and he was determined to have me use the pickup/dropoff area outside of his destination that he had a hand in making. Also that night I had a food delivery debacle. I won’t call out the restaurant out of professional courtesy but I’m probably going to be a bit snippy if I ever return. What happened was I went there to pick up the food, saw a table in the dining area with various pick-up orders all bagged up and marked with the names and list of contents, found the one matching my manifest, grabbed it, and went on my merry way. As it turns out, that was not the full order but I put it to you, dear reader: why would you put half an order in the pick-up area? At least the recipient didn’t give me any major grief for it but it’s still enormously irritating. The next day I had a rider who had Uber stories that beat some of mine. She opened with asking me about the quality standards for Uber cars as she had a past driver whose car was crumpled up in the front. She also mentioned another driver who had to have his wife riding with him so he could pick up female passengers. I never realized I was such a paragon of virtue among Charlotte drivers. This past Wednesday, I chatted with a guy who was comparing Uber rates in Charlotte to those in LA as he had been there in the past as a witness on Judge Judy. Finally, last night I had to deal with the outer loop of highway surrounding downtown being completely blocked off by emergency vehicles while I had riders so that was certainly a treat. All and all, it was a pretty compelling session this time. Stay gold.