i needed to charge my car so i drove to universal even though theyve been jacking up the rates

before i could get there, i got a ping at the sheraton next door to go downtown, which i normally wouldnt have taken, but the thought of grabbing a nice al pastor burrito at my new favorite joint called sonoratown had me salivating.

pulled up to the door of the hotel and mama mia my passenger was a vision.

you know how bad uber is to their drivers, when they can only retain drivers on average for 90 days, when every day miami 10s hop in that back seat and chat you up for a half hour.

it reminds me of when i was working at E! my boss hated me, and one day he took me outside to get me to quit. he sat me down as he smoked a cigarette and was all youre a college grad, you think youre some hotshot writer, you admit you hate it here, so why do you stay?

and on cue, two leggy interns from E! News strolled by and sang, hi tony.

rideshare is different because i adore it. only time it’s bad is when i need to drive very long shifts multiple days in a row. because im a thousand years old my arms get sore and my legs will feel like rubber when i get out to take a leak. but those days are in the past. thankfully.

so there i was at the universal sheraton and miss venezuela slid into the back and asked if she needed to wear a mask because she saw i had one on.

im only wearing one, i said, because im a sensitive artist and the smoke and soot of the air from these fires makes me cough.

she nodded as we eased down the hill from universal down to lankershiem as a giant inflatable minion eyed us from the top deck of a parking structure.

her name was eyezeya

i asked her, wheres that from?

she said the future

nothing better than a sassy lassie when the worlds gonna end, i said, merging onto the 101 freeway in unusually light traffic at 5pm. i guess everyones at home watching the fires on tv, i said.

god bless no congestion, she said. it was busy at the hotel, thats for sure, the long haired natural beauty said, sipping through her starbucks straw.

turns out your girl is a front desk clerk and due to the massive winds that caused the fires from malibu through the palisades to pasadena, tens of thousands of angelenos have been displaced, some because their homes had been totally destroyed, and over the last few days every hotel room for miles have been booked.

poor zeya had to tell people who had lost everything that there was no room in her inn.

little kids with dogs staring at the beautifully lit swimming pool saying, mommy they have a hot tub! while my future wife had to break the bad news.

we have had entire families like the mom, dad, grandma, granddad, uncle, dogs, cats take up seven to eight rooms, she told me, as we hit a little backup near the silver lake exit. some rooms were just for the animals, she said. some rooms were a half-dozen little kids with one older kid babysitting. loud. boisterous. giggling. things crashing.

its like a movie, she said, where everyone is still in shock, having as great a time as they can because soon it will dawn on them that things are about to suck

and a little lilt choked her up a bit

it was dawning on her too.

dont cry sweet girl, i said turning down lou reed, because if you cry i’ll cry

which made her laugh

and then cry.

haze hung halfway up the skyscrapers of downtown in a horizontal line like mourners looking down on LA

and then i misted up

because i had some people lose their dream homes too

people i love

people who have done nothing but the right things, the right way, and then one day you wake up in your house for the last time. and you never saw it coming.

i clicked the robot car button so the tesla could drive itself.

impossible to navigate through the tears.

dug into the glove box and grabbed a crisp stack of jack-in-the box napkins

handed half to zeya and took the rest for myself

dabbed my face and blew my nose

comically exaggerated like the loudest trumpet

and she laughed

then cried

see how much they tipped

he said he was 40, but looked 30.

smelled 21 like he had just gotten out of the gym.

fellas, never skip a day of showering and get in a car. dudes think, who would notice? a little brut under each arm and alls well? 

alls i can assure you my friend, is not good. 

the fare was good, so i cracked the window and stopped mentally whining. 

his name was marcus, forgettable features and style. dressed to fit in, not to stand out. my goal too.

he smelled funky because he had just helped inhale an eight ball of blow, downed ten shots of jameson, and dont tell his wife, but he rubbed the legs of a red-headed hooker who sat on his lap for two hours. it was his birthday and his boys wanted him to enjoy turning the big 4-0 in k-town.

since marcus was korean, that meant kbbq, karaoke, bottomless soju, and npg girls. npg? he used a three letter term i couldn’t make out. he was slurring words. did he want to go to sleep back there? 

whats that, i asked? 

they’re girls who will hang out with you in the karaoke rooms, and with your friends, he explained. there’s a knock at the door and five or six girls line up. if you like one of them you choose them. it was my birthday so i chose first. i took a white girl. not the prettiest. not the fittest. one that doesn’t always get picked. but pretty. they cost $100 an hour, 2-hour minimum. no sex, but you can rub their leg. 

no sex, I asked? what an interesting culture. 

some places you can have sex, he said, places that have private bathrooms in the room. but in most places, the girls give you their phone number and you can call them in a few days for sex, or a bj, or whatever, he explained. 

are they topless? 

no. 

why not?

thats not how it is. 

what if you tipped them? i mean, i dont mind not having sex with them, in fact im not sure i want that at all, but if theyre there to look pretty, lets all take our shirts off and sing ozzy ‘til the dust settles.

ive never seen that happen, he admitted. 

marcus, if it was your birthday and i was one of your boys, and we all had npg girls, i’d make a rule where we all changed clothes after every song, like what the replacements did on snl. 

change what? he asked, very confused. 

ok after the first song, i wear your clothes and you wear my npg girl’s clothes. then the following song i wear hers. we’d all rotate. but the singing must never stop marcus. in fact, since its your birthday, another rule must be that you have to always have a bra on.

i dont know if thats allowed. 

can you do drugs with these women? 

yes, we split an eight ball tonight.

so you can coke these beauties up and do saki bombs, but you cant wear their bras? what sort of country are we living in?

i dont think you understand, he said, trying to calm me down

BUT I WAS CALM

so all of you have girls, but none of you had any sex with them? 

correct, he said, adjusting his glasses after putting his phone down on the seat.

where do you get your blow jobs? he asked me directly

me? im gonna be 58 in a month. at my age, bjs are like finding money in the street. it happens and you look around to see if this is a hilarious prank, but you know it’s all luck having nothing to do with you. 

you will remember, oh yeah thats where i found $20 in the gutter.

you dont use an app? he asked and told me about a site called humaniplex

this is why i drive rideshare, i told him. you people teach me everything.

WHAT ON EARTH IS HUMANIPLEX? 

it’s where you can pay girls for blowjobs and handjobs. 

i looked at him via the rear view mirror in the back seat. it was dark and i couldnt see very much. 

i tried to ESP him, dont pay for things you can get for free. but my powers arent what they used to be.

ive been married almost 20 years, he confessed, and my wife doesn’t do that any more. once we had our second daughter, she looks at me as if i was disgusting. 

bro, we are disgusting. 

but she’s my wife. two minutes would mean so much. for my birthday she didn’t even give me a real kiss. i got a pat on the back as i left the house to get my lyft.

don’t drink too much soju! she said. 

then he handed me the npg girl’s card which I discreetly placed in the soiled wrapper that once held my jack in the box taco. 

you don’t want it? i asked. 

i already put her in my contacts as soju.

and when he got out of the car he said, don’t tell my wife

see how much they tipped

so many times i want to cancel the ride right before I get to the pick up.

psychologically, this might be why i’ve never been married or even engaged. 

it’s not that i haven’t dated incredible women, it’s because i am equal parts an idiot and also ridiculous.

it was a slow day of being peppered with $4 and $5 offers and i wanted to drive for a few hours and do some fat trips. so when i saw a $42 ping to go from silver lake to palmdale i couldn’t mash the phone quicker. especially after i saw it was estimated to take a little over an hour.

uber and lyft try to shoehorn us into a $25 an hour death spiral. so half-hour trips for $12, fifteen minute shorties for $6. if you take those trips you’ll never make enough profit to save up for your next rideshare vehicle after you and your passengers destroy your current car. 

the keyword is profit. people say, oh youre making $25 an hour you should be happy. we would be happy if the car was free and the insurance was free and the repairs were free and the women kissed you all over and sat in the back seat and said, oooooh weeeee do i love a bald king, heres my number and my best friends number. what time you get off? and also if the maintenance was free and food and drinks on the road were free. and it was nonstop $25 every hour for 8 straight hours. but that’s not the case. 

so you really need to make more than $25 an hour, which could be plausible if people tipped, but we know they dont, so I feel you’ve gotta adjust if youre gonna stay in this field.

step one, cut your expenses. in my case, i switched to an electric car whose energy and maintenance costs are a fraction of a gas vehicle. step two, take these long ass trips far away from la, even if a ride back is not guaranteed.

but by now you know the only guarantees in life: rock-n-roll will save yr soul and the chicago cubs will break your heart. so gamble on yourself while continually saying little prayers to the angels.

it was risky to pick up bebe and her kids at a silver lake children’s center. when i saw that the mom had a giant stroller, plus a collapsible wagon, plus three little girls, and mom was yelling at the kids because they had knocked over the wagon which spilled soccer balls and toys on the ground, i have to be honest, i thought about hightailing it out of there because — were the kids gonna be crying for an hour in the car? Was the mom going to be a terrible person? and who awaited us?

also, do i even like kids? even for an hour?

but they were black, as am i, and i have a soft spot for my people. i am not a nyc taxi driver who would have def canceled on that scene. i am a christian man who, even with the grace of god, still might not make it to heaven, so… i put on a smile and helped the kids and mom load up. 

they were three little girls. adorable. one cuter than the next. oldest was in 4th grade, middle was in 1st, the baby was in her car seat and almost one. deandra, delilah, and dee dee, respectively.

they immediately won me over.

mom was ok too. just on her last nerve.

shush for a sec, my princesses, i asked them, i need to tell uncle elon where we are going.

i pressed the button on the wheel and said the address. within seconds the giant screen gave us directions to their destination – grandma’s house up in palmdale. 

one thing i’ve noticed with tesla navigation: it gives me different routes than waze ever did over my years with rideshare. i’ve taken several trips from hollywood to palmdale. they typically go from the 101 freeway to the 5 to the 14, which is a like being at the bottom of a letter C and riding that curve to the left and up and back around. 

elon routed us as a bird would fly, a straight shot. but that would take us through the desert mountain road. A two-lane scenic wonder that in all my years id never taken.

it was like discovering there was a door to your attic and finding the most beautiful treasures up there. it was green and desolate and naturey and 20 minutes from where id spent the last 23 years of my so-called life. 

it was so remote that the girls’ internet and my music streaming capabilities died and for a while we were driving in silence, which if you know me, is unacceptable. 

who knows a song? i asked the kids, who were being good even after the mom had warned me “they bad kids.”

I DO I DO, deandra said, but then got cold feet when she couldnt think of the first line. 

who is it by? i asked.

she didn’t know. 

was it… and i sang poorly, but loudly like bill murray in a dive bar, i’m not a girl… not yet a wo-man

mom laughed, the girls didnt get it. 

NO, the eldest child said, all covered in a hoodie despite how hot it was outside. we’d learn later she and her mom were hit as pedestrians when two cars crashed into each other, and that she was insecure about the scar on her forehead. 

mom was stoked because a big settlement would be coming any day and they wouldn’t have to bop from a crappy motel to aunt’s apartment to grandmas house.

their $75k ship was fixin’ to come in.

was it? and i sang even louder this time: a screen door slams, mary’s dress sways, and like a vision she dances across the porch as a radio plays 

NOOOO, Deandra yelled laughing 

ROY ORBISON SANGIN FOR THE LONELY, i continued, poorly but with purpose HEY IT’S ME AND I WANT YOU ONLY. DONT TURN ME HOME AGAIN I JUST CANT FACE MYSELF ALONE AGAIN

NOOOOOOO! the two older girls said laughing almost screaming

he crazy delilah said, directly behind me. 

lil dee dee, what song do you know? i asked.

she don’t talk yet, the mom said. 

dee dee was playing with her ipad in the middle of the back seat which was making sounds in spanish. 

does she parlez vous espanol? i asked. 

no, i think she might be slow. 

i looked in the rearview at the little child, smiling at the cartoon animals dancing on her screen, smudged with fingerprints. fully engrossed in her world. she was eating the remains of the candy corn i had handed out to the kids, which i had just purchased at the dollar general because apparently halloween is somehow weirdly near.

don’t be surprised if she already knows how to speak but has just been holding it in, i told the mom. one day next month she’s gonna tap you on the shoulder and in a full blown british accent be all, mummy, may i have a spot of tea before i resign for the evening? two lumps of sugar if you please. 

the girls laughed as we drove through the bright sunlight in the mountains.

i get scared going through here, deandra said. poor dear. we were up high and the roads were one s-curve after another with steep drops. some of the travelers had pulled over at a vista to take a photo on a cliff side.

white folks, momma said quietly.

do you all believe in the lord? i asked. they said yes. i said do you all say your prayers every night? yes, they said. 

you know you don’t have to save your prayers for night? god likes to hear from you in the day too. he loves hearing from you. let’s say a prayer. 

the mom looked at me like, yep, he crazy.

lord, please help — girls repeat after me — lord

lord, they said. 

please help our handsome driver 

please help our handsome driver 

grow his hair back! 

grow his ahahahahahahaaha

i lifted my cubs cap and said, ok when you laugh the prayer doesn’t work. focus, ladies!

let’s try a different one.

lord, please let us 

lord. please let us 

make it to grandma’s house safely. 

make it to grammys house safely! 

a-men! i said loudly. 

a-men said deandra, delilah and the mom. 

and a few seconds later, a-men chirped little dee dee in the sweetest tiniest voice. 

see how much they tipped

1:30am. 20something fresh-faced guy with frazzled hair walked outside a packed bar that had just announced last call.

he hugged a blonde, then a brunette. friendly-like.

when he opened my door, i had to yell, CHARLIE because it was so loud out there. everyone was hopped up on booze and summer nights and full moon and et cetera, probs

YEAH! he yelled back. got in. shut the door.

have a good time in there? 

it was ok. 

just ok? were the pretty girls not pretty enough for ya

meh, he hiccupped

oh sorry, were you looking for pretty boys? i asked. never know. 

he hiccupped again, and asked ever feel like you’ve seen enough? 

no, i said. kill yourself. 

charlie paused, then laughed his ass off. 

he was in the business. from austin. produced some pretty big music videos. i told him, thank you, because im from the generation that grew up on those things and thats the best way to learn about new music.

he said, it doesnt pay, and theres long hours. no one cares.

i was like, yeah but you’re learning. if making art was easy, youd be bored of that too.

art, he scoffed.

it was warm. there were a surprisingly number of hookers out. most looked like moms in short dresses. some trying for eye contact. others pretending they were waiting for the bus. 

ever notice hookers dress less skanky than anyone on these streets? i asked charlie. who hadn’t until then.

ever get tempted by any of them? he asked, as we were stopped at a light, and a shockingly beautiful young latina shook her barely covered bottom in our direction, energetically. 

what would i even do with her? i asked. she had sneakers and a mini dress. several shiny necklaces reflected the street light above. both silver and gold. long tattoos crawled up her bare legs. red lipstick. a lot to take in. but i did appreciate her energy. and deep down i shared in her joy of being alive in this incredible part of town on a perfect night. 

free.

what do you mean what would you do with her? he asked. 

well, im a weirdo. the only things i pay for are things either i want done quickly or things i cant figure out how to do.

so like, ive got this roomba, and also a ring doorbell. theyre sitting in open boxes because i dont know how to hook them up. if she could install those things, for sure id give her $100.

he laughed, and said, you wouldnt want to do things with her your girlfriend, or, are you married? your wife – won’t do with you?

maybe i need to turn this uber around and get you back to that bar. it is saturday night in hollywood and those girls you hugged got dolled up for hours and are now full of overpriced booze. why would they say no to your little kinks?

charlie said, the line is you dont pay for them to come, you pay for them to leave.

i guess he really wanted this to be about hookers and not him. fine.

heres what id do if i had money for hookers, tonight. id get that big black mom over there, that short mom over there, those two skinny sad ones over there and you and id pay ‘em all to dance in my living room for an hour.

and have you shoot it on your phone for a music video.

ahahahaha, he laughed and hiccupped.

look, if youre gonna puke theres a barf bag in the thing in front of you, i said. 

im not gonna puke. he said, we turned down western with its hot dog vendors and taco tents lined with white twinkly lights.

he said, i know what id do with her, referring probably to the dancing sneakers girl.

whats that? 

id have her tell me it’ll be ok.

see how much they tipped