Since I lost my job in November, the world came crashing down like a mountain after an avalanche: after the initial landslide, rocks and boulders keep tumbling down with certain regularity, even after finding new employment back in late January. I still haven’t found solid footing, but life requires I keep trodding on.
One thing I will forever appreciate about the United States is the so-called “gig economy“, where you can start making extra cash with only a phone and a willingness to adapt, without the hassle of job interviews and whatnot. My choice was ridesharing, both Lyft and Uber. It would not help with big expenses like mortgage and car payments, but it would pay the bills if I kept to a certain rhythm and played it smart. So I started driving the day after I became unemployed –no rest allowed.
For a person my age, there is something inherently weird about ridesharing, because how many times were we told as children that the last thing you wanted to do is to get into a stranger’s car? Oh no, you either used a clearly marked taxi cab or any other type of public transport, or you called a parent or friend to get around, no exceptions. But somewhere in 2009, Garrett Camp –whom I only recently found out had also created one of my favorite web services, StumbleUpon (RIP)– and his friend Travis Kalanick decided that paying $800 for a private ride on New Year’s Eve was excessive. Also, Camp saw how hard it was to find a cab on a snowy night in Paris. So that old notion of strangers in our cars got tossed out.
Let’s ignore the fact that of COURSE you’re going to pay a lot to get a driver on New Year’s Eve and of COURSE it’s hard to get a cab in the frickin’ snow, but the success was undeniable: since Uber launched in 2010, it coordinates an average of 28 million trips every day from its six million active drivers and couriers (it also delivers food and groceries and, as I found out myself, packages). Lyft started in 2012 under much less elitist conditions (early on, riders were encouraged to sit in the front seat and fist-bump the driver), but right now the two, besides differences in the apps and the additional services Uber provides, are almost like Pepsi and Coke. So I chose both.
As a writer at heart and, despite the clobbering I sometimes take, very much not a misanthrope, I actually enjoy my days on the road. I’ve seen places in the Orlando area I had no idea existed, including places that seemed to open through a secret road and areas I wish I had never seen, especially at night. Plus, the stories I’ve heard and lived through are rich fodder for both this blog and whatever book I might finally bring to life in the future.
One day, after dropping off a couple at Camping World Stadium for a game, I had another hail call nearby. I briefly saw the fare before accepting, and it honestly took me aback –there was no way that was the right number, right? I picked up a short blond guy with a crew cut, super nice and humble. I helped him load a cooler and a couple of bags in my trunk (by the way, I drive a Kia Rio), and as we got in, I saw that yes, the fare was correct, because I was driving him to New Port Richey, a town almost three hours away.
God bless his soul, after I expressed my surprise, he said he would understand if I canceled the ride. But this was three days after Christmas, he looked so tired, and the fare was impossible to ignore. I said no problem. He was one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met, and on top of it all, he tipped me almost half the fare. I drove back home satisfied I did my job as both a driver and as a human being. A week later, believe it or not, I drove another guy to the same town, but this guy was a tool, spoke to me only to ask I first raise and then lower the air conditioning –and did not tip. Talk about yin and yang.
Those long rides are a double-edged sword, as you can imagine: the fare is good, but besides the toll it takes on your car, you risk either having zero business after they’re done or having to deal with some… interesting folks. One day, I picked up a tiny Haitian lady who clearly didn’t speak much English and drove her home for an hour and a half while she watched videos on YouTube in very loud Creole. At one point, Ed Sheeran blasted at a higher volume, and I finally couldn’t take it anymore, so, as politely as I could, asked her to turn it down. She said “Okay” and actually turned it off, and a few minutes later I dropped her off in God knows where.
My first ride with Uber was also a strange one, to say the least. One night, I picked up a short, shifty-looking guy who, right off the bat, sat up front, which was kind of a no-no, but OK. He’s constantly on his phone, seems like he’s had like fifty cups of coffee. He asks me if I make any money with this, and I say kind of, that’s it. When we come up to a stop sign, he immediately tenses up and says “Slow down, slow down!” We pass the sign with no issue, and he sort of sheepishly chuckles. “You don’t wanna get pulled over with what I’m carrying”, he says all casual. “But don’t worry if we do, I’ll just jump out”.
Um… What?
I drop him off on some back road. Not in front of a house or any building, I mean on the road. In the dark. With no house in sight. Expecting the Manson family just leap out, I hightailed out of there.
The fun part is, he wasn’t even drunk. I did pick up a VERY drunk lady not two weeks ago and even ordered her food through a drive-through, but I try to avoid party zones to avoid puke puddles if you know what I mean. The people stinking of weed are harder to avoid, one of them part of a party of four (one of which was a baby). But the weirdest ride has to be what I will call the Great I-4 Rescue.
I was dropping off a mother and her two sons at the outlets on Vineland, and another ride request came in, which I accepted. A few minutes later I get a call from an unknown number, which got ignored. The same number calls again, and this time I pick up. An immediate sense of regret sets in as I hear, in a clear Indian accent, “Hello, good afternoon, is this Juan?”
I groan quietly, and I’m sure we all know the reasons I did by now. I say yes, speaking, and wait for the health insurance offer or the “threats from the IRS”. What I did get was even weirder.
(By the way, just for fun, watch this video where this superhero engineer takes down an entire call center with mice, roaches, and a glitter stink bomb. Yes, really.)
“Yes, I am your Uber rider. We are stuck in the middle of I-4, our car broke down. Can I send you our exact location to your phone?”
Again: Um… What?
Fifteen minutes later, I am rescuing three young Indian men from the middle of the worst highway in Central Florida during rush hour. Turns out they had rented a car from the airport and were on their way to Clearwater for the weekend when their car broke down. They called a tow truck, and after the guy hooks the car up they try to get in. He tells them it’ll be too heavy for the tow. They ask him if they can ride with him, then. He says it only fits two more, that one of them would need to stay there. They ask him what are they supposed to do now, and he says, casually, “Just call an Uber, they’ll pick you up from anywhere”. I mean, he wasn’t wrong, but still… What an asshole!
I’m guessing this is one of the reasons I keep driving even though I’ve found a job, to keep finding stories like this, but also because sometimes you need a little extra cash to cover a bill, or you just want to feel helpful. It’s tiring, it’s potentially dangerous and takes a toll on my car, but it gives me something to do. Plus, try avoiding your thoughts at 1 am at a RaceTrac or a Wawa in the middle of nowhere. That’s where perspective lives and clarity comes for dinner.
And yet I pray for the day I’ll never have to do it again.
My Mind in Letters 