because i’m a crazy person, i took a passenger from inglewood to san diego on easter sunday and i was accepting little rides back north up the coast to get home to LA.
figured i should start at the san diego airport. never been there before and can’t say i liked it. but there was a place where drivers could take a leak.
got a trip from the airport to oceanside where all the military bases are. pretty sure he was a spy because when i asked him if he was, he said he was a consultant.
after that ride, i got an unusual ping to take a 7-minute ride back down south to carlsbad. the unusual thing was such a ride would usually pay me $5-$6 but uber was offering $12.50. was i reading it wrong? on your best trips, you make a buck-a-mile. this was twice that amount. Why?
the pickup was at a restaurant near the freeway and the drop off was a motel near the freeway. super easy.
her name was rose and she said she worked at lowe’s hardware. she was very chatty. i asked her if it was hard to work there, because you have to know soooo much.
she said she was a cashier and it was only hard when she had female customers because she was deaf and her hearing aids don’t pick up higher frequencies that well. i was shocked she said she was deaf, because i was wearing a mask, the radio played quietly, and she could hear me perfectly.
i’m so sorry about your condition! i said, waiting for the light to change so we could get onto the freeway.
don’t be sorry, rose said, it was a blessing. i hear dead people.
and i see them.
and it is not fun.
as she said that, i thought of my friend, a medium, who has told me about her gift and how she helps lost souls get unstuck.
it was all very confusing to me. as a christian, i felt torn, the good book says stay away from mediums and psychics, and then of course later, it says fuckit just love everyone.
that friend, like this woman, both said the dead are annoying. but rose also said, they can be mean. and frustrating.
they just don’t listen.
she cursed her alleged gift, one that her older sister, mom, and aunt all share.
those women embrace it, but rose said it gave her headaches and anxiety and kept her from sleeping.
but then, during the birth of my son, i had a stroke and went deaf, she said matter-of-factly.
OMG, i am so sorry! i said, wishing this ride was longer, because holy!
don’t be sorry, rose said. the deafness muted most of the voices.
it was a blessing. if I want, i can focus and talk with them, but who the fuck wants to do that?
because it was easter, i asked her if she believed in god and if she considered her deafness as a way that he could ease her pain?
yes, i believe in god. and jesus is there hanging out with people. i know that, she stated, flatly. but i have to be careful with spirituality.
do you pray every night and thank Him for–
I DO NOT PRAY! THAT BRINGS OUT THE VOICES! she interrupted.
she said her sister makes good money channeling and being a medium, and chides her for turning her back on the gift.
but, Rose said, if she wants to bring these souls from the other side and if she wants to deal with all the drama that can happen when you do that shit, then that’s on her.
i just want to scan hammers and nails at the lowes.
as we drove up to the parking lot of the best western where i can only assume she lives, i asked, where’s someplace where there are guaranteed lost souls, ghosts, spirits, etc.?
the cemetery! she said. people say dead people don’t like cemeteries but they’re wrong. they’re all over the place.
unlike the others in this collection, no names or places have been changed because, a year ago today when this trip took place, the woman gave me permission to you about our great ride.
her name is lillie. i shouldn’t have been there. the sun was close to setting and i was near my home but i hadn’t hit my daily goal yet.
i dont like to drive at night for a lot of reasons, but i figured if i could get just two more long rides, one away from home and one back, then i wouldn’t feel like a failure.
i declined one little ride after another, and finally got a trip from silver lake to LAX for $18… way below what i usually get paid for airport rides but uber estimated it would only take 36 minutes because it was Good Friday and the roads were pretty mild. so i went for it.
he was a lung doctor at one of the hospitals. we talked about smoking weed via a vape compared to a bong. it was delightful. no tip. fine.
once at the airport, i waited for a more profitable ride back to hollywood. lyft offered a $28 ride to hollywood blvd, my favorite street in LA. i took it. the passenger was a woman who appeared to be in her late 30s/early 40s named lillie, with just a small duffel bag. her destination was the historic (and slightly haunted) roosevelt hotel.
what brings you to la? i asked.
american idol she said.
YOU MADE IT TO HOLLYWOOD! i cheered, sarcastically, quoting the line the singing contestants hear when they are catapulted from the cattle call audition to the next stage of the still-popular TV show.
lillie laughed, and said it was not her, but her 18 year-old son who actually had made it to hollywood and was continuing on.
his name is iam, which she told me is short for william. they are from hawaii but were forced to move to seattle a few years ago because the island had become too expensive for the family of modest means.
iam is the youngest in the large family and was very close to his father who died a few years ago.
as we drove along the quiet 105 away from the beach she told me, before he died, my husband took his bonus check and bought our son a guitar. it was not expensive. but he loved it and played it instead of his ukulele. after my husband passed, iam said he didn’t like playing it because sometimes when he sang he said he could hear his father’s voice harmonizing with him and it reminded him of when they would sing together when he was young.
but that’s a gift, iam, she told him. that means your father is still with you. maybe everyone can hear that too.
she told me her son is insecure about his talent, his playing, and his looks since he is a little overweight.
every time idol advanced him, he would say, mom these other people are sooo much better than me.
lillie, every creative person doubts their talents, i told her. and if your boy has made it a few episodes into american idol, the girls are not going to care one bit about that. why do you think we love adele and lizzo? they broke the glass ceiling that popular singers have to look a certain way.
who’s lizzo? she asked, as we took the long off ramp from the 105 to the harbor freeway as LA opened up in front of us.
i could hear her fiddling with her phone. she found a clip of him during the “duets” episode. apparently his guitar broke right before he was supposed to perform. as luck would have it, the small company who made it was in LA, and the show sent someone down there and within hours the last gift his dad gave him was restored.
but in between, the show had to go on, so they gave him a replacement guitar and the whole thing made him cry because he loved his dad and the entire thing was overwhelmingly emotional.
lillie put her phone next to my ear. it was blasting. so i took it from her and nestled it on my dash as we drove down the 110 with the sparkling lights of downtown LA welcoming her to this crazy town. i turned up the heat because a previous hawaiian passenger told me everywhere in the mainland is cold to them.
when I finally saw iam i thought, damn that boy big. the guitar was tiny on his body. he wore it like a necklace, almost.
but when he sang, he could hit the high notes perfectly. he was a very good, subtle, soulful performer who looked exactly like someone from your neighborhood who was plucked and set down onto the stage. no fancy clothes, no fancy anything. just a strange gift to be able to casually sing.
he’s like a hawaiian willie nelson i told her.
who’s willie nelson?
i asked her if he had a girlfriend. she said no. there is one girl from school who he has a massive crush on, but he’s said, “we’re just friends, mom.” eventually he admitted to his mom that he liked this girl more than friends, but he was sensitive about his weight.
again, i told her, his life is about to change. i was tempted to namecheck meatloaf and john popper, but i kept it to myself.
then she told me that his audition episode was the highest viewed audition that american idol had seen in years.
lionel richie and luke bryan were crying as he told his story and sang the song. lillie played it for me as we cruised past USC. and i was like, you’re getting me to start watching idol again. i cannot believe how good your son is!
as we neared hollywood, i asked her if he had an agent.
she said no. she asked, what good would that do him?
i said, it’s going to be very hard to trust anyone in LA. you probably shouldn’t even trust me. so heres what you should do. there’s two talent agencies you need to contact as soon as you can: CAA and UTA.
CAA is the largest agency in LA and you need to tell them that your son needs representation from an agency who has not only done good work with idol contestants, but also with male contestants. because it’s way different.
i pulled up a picture of CAAs glass building in century city and said, people call their office The Death Star because of the hole in the middle.
tell them, iam is gonna fill that hole.
also tell them you want them to show you who they have worked with, and what results they have delivered. don’t get dazzled by CAA. go to UTA too. have them bid against each other.
you’re also going to need a lawyer to explain the contracts you’ll be signing. do not let the agencies get you a lawyer. reach out to some past idols who you like and ask them for theirs. even if your boy doesn’t win this whole thing, there are plenty of contestants who “lost” who went on to good careers. jennifer hudson being my favorite.
then we listened to her son a little longer and she said this is why you are my driver. i prayed for strength and direction on the flight here from seattle. and look, here you are.
a few months after this trip, iam won it all, easily.
i wasn’t doing so well myself because earlier in the day i had picked up some ADHD meds and they were not making me feel 100%, let’s say.
i was nauseous, out of sorts, and oddly horny.
i like to be at peak performance when i drive other people. even if they are crying in my backseat, which i rarely allow.
win was a student from asia. he was at an LA art school studying Toy Making which i never knew was a thing, but i guess if George Lucas made more money off the Star Wars toys than he did the movie, someone figured ah, let’s join the cash grab.
he was crying because several of his teachers hated his concepts. he had to look up the phrase Basic Bitch after one of them put that in the notes of his most recent project.
i’m going to get kicked out of school. my mother is going to be so disappointed. the shame our family will endure will be too much, he said between sniffles.
no one gets kicked out of art school, i assured him. they want your money.
win informed me that several of his classmates had been kicked out.
were they really booted or did they quit? i asked.
people love to quit shit, i said.
he just cried and told me how his mother carried the whole family on her back after his father went to jail.
ok, look win, before i start crying, what do these teachers want from you?
they keep saying they want us to think Outside the Box. they say they want edge. they say they want New.
fuck. i sighed.
what happened? win asked startled, probably concerned about the traffic or the benz.
im Mister Outside the Box, i said quietly. but he heard.
YOU ARE? please help me Mr. Anthony. please.
we were on lincoln blvd in venice, close to venice blvd. traffic was bad. there’s only a few places in la where when things are jammed up theres nothing you can do. this part of Venice was like that.
so i turned down the hendrix and spit my gum out the window barely avoiding a tesla, who’s driver then rolled up his windows.
here’s the problem bro, i am the wrong person to help you. i am incredibly dark. i’m black. don’t be fooled by my wrinkle-free light skinned complexion. all the darkness is inside me.
prick me. do i not bleed? of course, but my blood’s like ink.
win was incredibly confused. which was the point. and best of all he had stopped crying.
any idea i give you will be great. but very few teachers ever gave me good grades. IT TOOK ME SIX YEARS TO GRADUATE COLLEGE!
please mr. anthony. please!
uber refuses to change my name to tony. it’s just as weird for me to hear that name as i’m sure it is for you.
i will help, but know my heart is so dark im probably gonna go to Hell bc God judges us by our hearts and theres no faking that. also, ive done bad things that im trying to make up for, but inside of me is a caldron of wickedness waiting to boil over.
if i get kicked out mr. anthony, i have to return to china. much shame.
fine, win, but if you use this idea please do not mention me. if you end up making it and becoming rich, say it just dawned on you while you were in the back of an uber driving around LA. do with it what you want.
he was all ears.
first, when you pitch this, tell your teachers that once this becomes successful all of the profits needs to go to a homeless nonprofit like Invisible People.
ok ok but what is it?
in a way, it’s a parody of Barbie, but they’re hyperrealistic versions of homeless people.
but they also have all these accessories. that’s the real hook: tents, shopping carts, half-broken bicycles, rusty bbqs, weirdly healthy dogs, rickety structures covered with blue tarps, street lights that have been tapped into so the people can “steal” the electricity to run generators and little tvs.
the figurines of the homeless should be the easy part. young people with face tattoos. dudes with giant coats on in the summer. a guy who’s mostly naked sleeping on a bus bench that has an armrest in the middle of the seat so people cant sleep on it, a guy with an almost new Kobe jersey, and a guy dressed up in his army fatigues.
a once beautiful woman with pockmarks and dreadlocks. a fat guy in a wheelchair even though his legs work fine. and of course a few teenage runaway boys with skateboards and guyliner who do tricks in the alley.
so dark, win whispered.
and edgy and outside that box, i said, as we drove through an overpass lined with tents, old RVs and port-a-potties.
very.
but here’s what i want you to do. i want you to either pee on them or figure out a way you can make them smell bad.
then win said something that worried me. he said, we have chemicals that can make things smell like fruit or happiness.
ok, but do you have anything that smells like sadness?
yes.
sell the extra jars of bad smells separately.
win was so quiet looking out the window. as if he had just been offered the opportunity to sell his soul to the devil for a delicious slice of pizza. he took out his phone and started tapping the idea down in his notes app.
i continued, because i hate silence in my car.
each homeless person comes with two accessories, like a tent and a sleeping bag. and win, they’re tucked inside a pair of clean, new athletic socks, rolled up in a ball the size of your fist.
when someone buys the toys, there’s a little note in them stating that the bearer should give the socks to the first homeless person they see because fresh socks are always welcome to our friends living on the street.
he used both thumbs quickly on his phone. i spied on him from my rearview mirror. someones frown had turned.
you will not go to hell, Anthony, he finally told me. you are very nice.
nice? i said surprised.
so let me tell you about the second series of homeless toys. there will be a garbage truck, five cops, and three guys in yellow vests who roll by and put all the tents and skateboards and sleeping bags and clothes and reading materials and found items that had been collected
and they toss them into the back of the garbage truck and instruct the homeless toys to leave.
omg, she needs to barf. worst thing that could happen in an uber
i’ll just pull over and you can do it on the curb, i said, steering towards the fat burger.
no, i really want to get home, she said and buried her face into my always at-the-ready barf bag. reaching under my seat, i remembered, i also had an empty paper grocery sack that i handed to her, too. still i worried.
it’s the main reason i dont drive at night and why i hadn’t in years.
at this hour the people want to fight you, fuck you, or barf in your car.
im too sexy for all that, so i just avoid the night, which hurts my wallet because you can make some great money when you should instead be home bundled up taking hits off your vape pen and trying not to lose hope.
this trip, which is why i accepted it, was gonna pay me $44 to take her 18 minutes to the east of hollywood, the san gabriel valley, home to some of the best asian food in the usa. so say some of the asian folks ive driven there.
where should i eat over there? was something i would have asked her if i had not been paranoid she might puke if i made her think about food.
she was quiet. i was quiet. the radio didnt wanna upset her lil tiny belly trying to say hi to me, so it hushed up too, barely playing heart’s barracuda as i weaved in and out of lanes on the 101 freeway towards downtown.
other ubers, cabs, and drunks were annoyingly creeping the speed limit. there wasnt much traffic. were they tired? were they trying to sneak little glipses at their passenger’s young porcelain legs? better not be.
14 minutes the waze app said. 13. but it felt like eons. could there be any puke in that lil gut?
i needed to get her home, but the pretty legs were flirting with me. tattoos, i hadn’t noticed at first, were now whispering
hi tony.
itd been a while since i saw legs like that. thin but not scrawny. so pale even in the streetlight.
but i had seen some. more than some.
some. how.
how old was she? never got a good look. she had rushed into the front seat. yes the front. which is usually not allowed since covid, but women have a way of being allowed exceptions
even if your little skirt defies gravity and sense
cute silver purse sparkling next to her bare feet, shoes kicked over, so tired.
her enormous phone which had been dropped onto my dirty mats was glowing from someone texting her
r u ok? they wanted to know.
shhhh, she is, i ESP’d.
i believe in angels because she was so spaced out and vulnerable and they delivered her to the safest car in all LA. a bad man even lonelier than i was, could have, and maybe would have, crossed the line. out there, in the no name streets, where the train tracks and the river look the other way.
so they put her in my car, because i’m more curious about what heaven’s like than what her breath smell like.
plus, who knows, maybe she was an angel herself visiting earth on spring break, not remembering her tolerance, and whoops drunk at the wrong time in hollywood.
with 5 minutes to go, i wanted to tell her how much longer she had to fight the urge to purge, but what if that made her puke?
i kept quiet as supertramp’s breakfast in america played quietly.
when we turned the corner to the house i said my only words
manish was an indian gentleman from amarillo texas who is married to a guatemalan lady.
picked him up in the rain and dark and cold of LAX
i did not want to get him and take him to the hampton inn in north hollywood for this reason: it was the first offer i received shortly after i had dropped off a dancer at jet blue. and typically i liked to decline a few rides to get a sense of how much uber is offering at that time.
also, sometimes you get lucky and do a short trip around LAX for $14 from a hotel to a rental car agency two miles away. these are $4 rides that get overpriced for some reason.
but it was rainy and at $29 it was a decent fare because miraculously at that point in the early evening, the estimated time to get out there was a little over an hour. so fine.
who wanted manish to wait in the rain anyway,? not me.
as soon as he got in, (no luggage, just a duffel bag and apologies), i could hear a young girl’s voice on his facetime. maybe 5 years-old?
sweetheart, i will call you right back. please let me talk with the taxi man, he said.
he clicked the button, paused, said hi and asked if i wouldn’t mind stopping at a liquor store before we got to the hotel. please and thank you.
i was in a fantastic mood because of the dancer and the previous rides, that i said, for you, amigo, anything.
he got back onto facetime.
and what did you have for dinner? he asked, after showing her the dark streets of westchester we glided down, shiny from the rain and streetlights
quesadillas and carne asada, she sang, and then ok daddy i love you and quickly hung up.
after manish and i talked for a while, i realized when he said ‘my hampton inn’ he didn’t mean the one i was driving him to, but the one he co-owned in armadilla
as soft-spoken and overly polite as he was, i quickly learned he loved rum (same.)
but back in the day, he would often find himself shamefully drunk and he needed to put it in check.
a few years ago, he was simply the manager of the hampton inn nestled right off a lonesome highway, not far from an oil field that kept the rooms booked. one night he was mighty buzzed but he wanted one more bottle to say goodnight to.
so he stumbled into a nearby liquor store and struck up a conversation with a man from china.
aren’t you the manager of the hotel?
yes. yes, manish said sheepishly, slightly embarrassed he might stink of dark bacardi.
my brother has been buying little hotels and motels in the states: best westerns, motel 6s, driftwoods, and fixing them up and turning a healthy profit on the room rate increases.
as it so happened, the hotel was about to go up for sale. when it did, the chinese man bought it and told manish he would make him a co-owner and partner if he managed the place. which he did. and as the profits began to flow, manish bought five acres with two nice houses on it. he planned to rent the other one.
but then he saw carla.
who had come in to apply for the housekeeping manager job.
carla, was recently divorced, and had a daughter.
manish, a hindu from calcutta, hired her and a month later proposed.
wait a second my man. i interrupted, raising my hand and stopping his flow.
A MONTH?
yes sir, anthony, he said.
was it awkward asking this newly-hired woman on a date?
im sorry anthony, but in my culture we do not date.
i thought about it and said ok, but did you two smooch or something before you proposed?
i do not know what smooch means, but i am certain i did not do it to her. we never touched. i proposed and she said yes.
manish, you devil! i cheered from the front seat.
the 405 was super clear. the possibility and then arrival of rain convinced angelenos to stay home. but it was finished for the night and the carpool lane was magic.
after the wedding, manish’s inlaws moved into the second house. a few years later he produced his own child with carla, a daughter.
and as the profits from the hotel continued to grow, he bought chickens and goats for the girls, and most recently two ponies.
i returned to clapping.
no no, anthony, he said. all of these things are quite affordable in amarillo.
but what do you know about horses? don’t you gotta pay a guy to take care of them?
carla’s father is a ranch hand. he’s an expert with horses. and he’s very grateful for the free house.
together we went into great detail about the operating expenses of his hotel. as we sped past the getty center he asked me what time LA liquor stores close.
i said, either midnight or two am, depending. and i asked him what time they close there and he said 8pm. we looked at my alpine car stereo that read 8:15pm.
have no fear manish. i will get you the booze you want if i have to raid my own liquor cabinet.
i have none, im a stoner, but it’s nice to imagine an old school globe on wheels which opens up to a fully stocked booty of booze.
or whatever this is, dumb AI:
he told me he doesn’t like to drink around his daughter and when i asked him if he knocked back a few on the plane, he said he didn’t want the older woman next to him to think he was going to lose his mind and attack her.
so he had no drinks on the plane.
!!!
i will have two drinks as i wait for my food to be delivered, then i will have a third as i eat it, he said staring out of the window, visualizing the rum being slowly poured into those feeble plastic hotel cups.
i quietly prayed that he brought his own tumbler in that curiously small duffel bag.
it killed me that i didnt know the valley very well, because i wanted to give him a postmates recommendation for his dinner.
instead, i told him about pijja palace in silver lake, the brainchild of a young indian guy who was combining italian foods with his moms favorites. so like, indian pizza or curry pasta. the tiktok kids were loving it.
we got in a rabbit hole about food as i transitioned to the 101 hollywood freeway and he said, now you wont forget about my liquor store will you, anthony?
manish! you need to trust me the same way you trust those ponies with your sweet angels. in a perfect world, i would be a hotel front desk manager because customer service is my middle name, i told him
tony joaquin customer service bukowski
and we laughed. but i said, seriously i know the coolest liquor store of all and its right near your hotel
im so sorry anthony, but i do not require the coolest, best, or fanciest los angeles liquor store. i would be very happy with the closest one en route.
no problemo, i said, but then immediately worried that if he didn’t know a little spanish, he may have taken it the wrong way.
so i asked, why he was out here? and he said the chinese partner wanted him to meet his brother, because they want to buy more hotels and really, truly partner with him and grow the little empire.
but anthony, he said, i do not want any more.
i love my life. we work. we come home. theres our family.
satisfaction is not impossible to attain if you only concern yourself with having a good meal on your table every night and stop striving for more more more.
i completely agree with you manish, i told him, and noticed how he watched a small liquor store come and go and i did not turn in.
he became quiet.
and a minute later, a long minute, i watched his face in the rear view as we approached Circus Liquors,
coolest liquor store in all of los angeles thanks to its giant neon clown
and he heard my blinker’s click click click click click click
the rideshare waiting lot is usually filled with 100 cars of chain smoking men who dont really wanna drive, but really dont wanna be home with their families. so they sit there for an hour for a $20 ride to hollywood that takes another hour. that is $10 an hour gross.
gross indeed.
upstairs in the horseshoe, it was bumper to bumper because lots of people’s friends came to pick them up like good friends do. but do us all a favor. just pay for your friends’ uber. youre making things worse.
so i had a plan to drive just outside the area that would put me into the uber waiting lot queue over by the rental cars. this way, i could get all the pings that weren’t coming solely from the airport, and maybe someone dropping off a car.
it’s hard to explain, but these little scraps of trips can become very profitable around the airport because, well, the airport is where you get fucked. the hotels, the rental cars, the terminals themselves. everyone is trying to suck as much out of you because you had the nerve to use an airplane to gtfo.
cabs, busses, uber, and lyft are no different. there was a time when airport rides were THE ride to get with rideshare, but the companies made damn sure to end that gravy train real quick, maybe in hopes people wouldnt camp out in the waiting lots and drive around.
but control is an illusion. these drivers fucked up and got married too young or to the wrong woman or they hate their kids or they hate driving in LA so now they sit in that lot, as pollutants rain down on them and time drains through the hourglass.
i sat in the benz for about twenty minutes on a dirty side road riddled with potholes, next to a couple of guys setting up their homeless tent and bedding for the night as it drizzled. i declined one bad offer after another. $5 to go to inglewood, $7 to go to hawthorne, $15 to go to dtla. love you too uber, you so-and-so.
because it was so slow, i only wanted long trips for big money, which is the only thing that woulda gotten the angry dads out of the lot too. so it was a stalemate of sorts.
which is why, when alice’s ping came through for $45 to go to ontario, i said hell yeah and nearly knocked over my super big gulp.
is ontario far? yes. but at that hour, the eta was just over an hour. for reference, sometimes it takes me an hour to get from LAX to hollywood for $25, so… hell yes.
alice was peppy, sweet, borderline adorable and so full of life. she flew out here from iowa to go to a rave with some of her college friends who would meet her at their airbnb.
why was she at the dennys? uber wanted to charge her $400 when she opened up her app in the airport. so she figured she’d walk out of the airport and past all the hotels to the dennys.
i was in the plane for hours and i like to walk, she said.
as denzel washington said in training day: my n word
she was talkative and vulnerable with the cutest midwest accent and we were getting deep even before i made it over the 405 via the century freeway east
i asked her sheepishly, so when you say you’re going to a rave, alice, are you one of those straight-edge girls who are just there for the music and the plur or are you down to lose your mind on party drugs and dress up skimpy?
plur? peace, love, unity and respect? she giggled, and admitted she is not at all straight edge.
gosh, do i look that innocent? she asked turning the light on her iphone and checking herself out in my backseat window.
before we got to the 110 we had already agreed on several things. at the top was that she should definitely move to australia to get away from all the dramas happening in her life, namely her demanding family, weird friend group, and lack of a mans.
if i was a million years younger i woulda humorously cleared my throat, but come on america, alice was sneaky hot.
i was like, i wish we were driving to ontario, canada, because it got so interesting as she told me about this rare condition she has:
aphantasia
she admitted, with zero energy, that she has no inner monologue and she cannot visualize anything.
so if i say, ‘think of an apple,’ you can picture one, but i can’t. i know it’s green or red, but i can’t see it. stupid, right?
alice, this is precisely why i drive a car in the middle of the night to the middle of nowhere in the LA winter rain. do not stop telling me everything, i said.
she said, i also can’t solve problems in my head. so if i am at work, and someone asks me something hard, i will say, let me think about that, and i will put my head down but nothing happens. i shut down. im not thinking. im not feeling. im nothing. like a computer that has been unplugged. or a playstation on pause.
i said, alice, how can i phrase this, first of all, you’re incredible. i’m bursting with questions. my head throws raves normally, but now you have poured a bucket of lsd on it.
so my question is, have you ever had a boyfriend?
yes.
so when you kissed him, what would go through your mind?
nothing.
do you dream?
yes, but i cant see anything.
so you’ve never had a nightmare?
i’ve had nightmares.
you’re amazing i told her.
i am happy you think that. so many people don’t take me seriously and i haven’t been able to find a therapist who can help me with issues that are unique to this condition, because only 6% of people have this.
way too quickly, we got at the oddest airbnb, tucked into a little, new suburban neighborhood with no trees, just row after row of the same looking tall, narrow, identical houses.
manny makes way more money than me. the old man pays him $300 a day to live in a big house with he and mrs old man in the nice part of pasadena. no days off during the week, but every three months he’s allowed to fly back down to mexico to see his wife and son, freddy.
freddy had just turned two.
after little bonuses, manny makes out with $100k a year to do the things this man couldnt do any more like get out of bed, sit on the can, make eggs, and mow the grass.
manny also does the laundry for the old lady cuz shes getting old too.
boss was an executive back in the day. plenty of money but got parkinsons in his late 50s and it never got better.
i hate to say it but it sounds like a boring job, manny.
it is. and its led me to gambling because i sit next to him as he mumbles and i study the horses.
oh at santa anita? (which is nearby) i said.
everywhere. los alamitos, belmont park, i even bet on races in Japan.
what’s your system? i used to read a lot of Charles Bukowski who would drive from san pedro to santa anita and he’d study the racing forms in the passenger seat as his wife drove.
i dont have a system, he said, and i lose a lot. but i try to stick to betting on hot jockeys and trainers.
when LA is dead at night you imagine everyone watching tv inside their perfect homes. thats where the cars go when theyre not out, right?
we were flying. i had briefcase full of blues on low through the blue tooth
manny admitted he has a bit of a gambling problem where he loses $300-$500 a day on bad days, breaks even on good days and wins on very good days.
he blamed it on his phone.
it’s the app, he said. it lets me play all day, all night. i have to cut down.
when things turn sad and it’s only halfway through a trip, i try to redirect it to happier paths.
what was the best day of gambling you ever had?
manny perked up. i won $5,000 on a daily double. i put down $100 on a long shot and a favorite and it paid off.
what did you do with the money?
well, im saving for a bar i want to build in my hometown in mexico. so i put $1,000 into that account and i bought some clothes and went to the strip club and fucked the best one there.
wait, what?!
her name is salena.
was this in mexico or here?
in east LA amigo.
wait, wait. you can have sex with strippers in east la? i asked.
manny laughed so hard he started hiccupping. yes amigo!
how much do you have to pay?
$500, $600. she takes you to a little room. theres no bed, no couch. its just a little platform with some cushions. but theres enough privacy that you can do what you want to do. and i did everything.
everything?
everything: ass, mouth, i ate her out. excelente.
i paused and said, manny, whats wrong writh me? i dont think id go down on a stripper. i mean, ive kissed a stripper once in vegas because she had this tongue piercing and i kept staring at it. she said buy me a glass of champagne and you can kiss it.
same thing, amigo. these girls are no dirtier than the ones you’re already kissing. i ate her out good.
so what kind of bar are you saving up for?
a strip club!
are there no strip clubs in your hometown down there?
yes, but they’re all crowded. we could use another one.
and your wife would be ok with this dream of yours?
she knows me. just last night i was fucking her and my son was on one side of her and i was behind her, but i didnt care and she didn’t care.
she knows im loco and loyal. strippers dont count.
and she likes the money i make here and send down to her. and she likes the house i built for her from cleaning that old man. and she knows this bar will be what gets us a bigger house.
but you just built one!
si, but tony we learned a lot building that house and i will never start from scratch again. the next one will be a house thats already built and i will just add little things to it
and then rent out the house my wife and son are in now.
we were going to the mall next to the race track. manny was hungry.
her name was bella. she tried to kiss me last night from my back seat not long before the ball dropped.
i picked her up around 11pm in toluca lake in front of a crowded bar. her former boss, a woman, was drunk and needed a ride home to pasadena and bella was being so sweet and said she’d ride with her.
the whole way to pasadena, the drunk ex-boss was all, bella i feel so guilty. you’re so young, you should be out there. i’m so embarrassed.
and bella said, martha, you hired me. you promoted me. you were always the best boss to me. it’s ok. tony will take me back. this is a no brainer. you would do it for me too.
which is all true and just another reason only women should be allowed to carry guns.
dudes would draw a dick on their friend’s face with permanent marker, take his cubs hat, and toss him into the uber which they jokingly have sent to the police station.
in my backseat though sat two slurring women hugging each other as we sped through the darkness east up the 134 through Glendale.
dropping off martha was a bit of an ordeal. her husband waited in the driveway in his robe looking at his phone. she wouldn’t stop apologizing and bella just took it.
once finally in the back seat, bella started confiding in me saying that she was sad because the boy shes been talking with said he couldn’t make it to the bar tonight. i’m sad, i really like him. he’s the hottest guy at [big company].”
i was talking to her while peeking at the rear view mirror to try to get a good look. it had been so dark and also i intentionally try not to look at my female passengers at night because i have enough problems as a libra falling in love with people instantly.
so eyes on the road.
let me ask you some questions bella, if you don’t mind.
yes please, tony, she said.
she called me tony at the end of every sentence. a little annoying, but whatever. she was drunk. it was twenty minutes there and twenty minutes back, and i was making $46, because there are only a few nights a year, new years even and a couple of others, when you make reasonable money.
have you been on a date with him before?
define date tony.
you agree to do something, he picks you up, you do the thing, theres some sexual tension when he drops you off at home. if you’re lucky, theres a smooch and then you tell all your bffs immediately what you want to name his babies.
then we had one date, at the la brea brewery. and there was a kiss, tony.
when was that?
two months ago.
i hate to tell you this bella, but the cute boy has too many options. thats why there hasnt been a second date and why he didnt wanna go to toluca lake for nye.
she started to cry.
shit.
through the sobs she told me shes twenty-five, lives with her immigrant mom, and feels like she is behind her friends and The World.
i was all, bella, it’s not a race.
do you wanna be a 30 year-old divorcee with two handsome kids? there are worse things than being an incredibly big hearted single lady in the back of the greatest uber in LA
she laughed and blew her nose into the burger king stack of napkins i handed her.
do you have cats, bella?
yes! yes i do tony!
ok. if your cats are fed and snoozing across the room while you are on the couch, and you call them or scratch the pillow beside you, do they come lay on your lap?
no, tony.
do they come if you haven’t fed them?
sometimes tony.
you cant feed these boys, baby.
let this pretty man starve a little. stop telling him about places youre gonna be. stop inviting him to go hiking with you thinking youre gonna lure him in your alo pants. every girl has alo pants.
i have lululemons, tony.
i paused imagining, inappropriately.
do you know what im saying bella?
but tony, what if he never texts me again?
bella, we live in the second most populous city in the united states. what is your background?
i’m salvadorian.
do you have any kids or an ex-husband?
no.
no offense, but what? do you know how rare it is for a beautiful 25 year-old latina to enter a dating situation with no kids?
she started crying again. comparing herself.
omg you have such an advantage over all the other chicas. you dont see that when you go to latin clubs?
i dont go to clubs, tony.
well promise me that you will go. because you will get eaten alive. in the best way.
we pulled over in front of the bar.
the entire ride back, she leaned forward in the back seat, repeatedly bumping my side with her hand as she tried to talk closer to me.
occasionally, she would say sorry if she hit my side hard.
i was wearing my covid mask.
idling, she didnt move. stayed close to me. she tried an awkward hug but mostly got the back of my seat. then she kissed at my face but pecked 89% mask.
i turned around to her to get that good look, for science.
and i soaked it in.
dear reader, if anyone was overdue for a midnight connection it was yours truly. i havent gotten a good old-fashioned sloppy one since my last gf years ago.
its been quite the dry spell. but bella was slurring, clearly emotional, and it wouldnta been hard to get a tiny bit of action on one of those tree-lined side streets near the river.
but thats playing with fire.
so when i turned around to her, she slowly retreated and laid back in the seat to allow me that good look.
and holy 2024, she was fresh faced with beautiful hair, well-pressed blouse and a pair of oversized ann taylor slacks you’d see lauren bacall wear with a blazer and no shirt.
she was dressed to get kissed.
and here it was 11:45pm and her body language was saying come here dummy.
i said holy shit bella, youre a knock out.
next week, i want you to go to a latin club in this exact outfit, and go alone and dance and speak spanish
and if you are not the princess of the dancefloor with every man with a modello,
and if they don’t all swarm you and fight over you, email me and tell me im an idiot.
i handed her my business card
youre not an idiot tony. and she leaned forward and took a picture of the business card and tried to kiss me again but i gave her mask.
she plopped back in the seat and pouted. defeated.
i could smell her ariana grande ari perfume as i waved goodbye when she finally slid out of the car.
i waved, but didnt look back because i had just learned what and lead us not into temptation was written for
it was oscar sunday, griffith park. two babes in their 20s sporting skin-tight outfits heading to venice. first time to la. from utah.
the best way to describe the outfits are aerobicize, parachute gear, no bras, white nikes. but mostly power rangers and sunglasses.
because it was a few hours before the oscars, hollywood was a mess: the roads were closed, there were demonstrators and clogged freeways, so i was more than happy to take a ride to the beach even though i would only get $28. fuck it. waze said it would only take 45 minutes.
i knew it was a lie. it ended up being an hour but immediately we were talking sex drugs and youtube.
the blonde in the back, 22, told me she wants to be a sugar baby: my tastes are very expensive. i need a sugar daddy who understands that, she stated as her friend, pre-med, also blonde but maybe more natural? thus darker? giggled, clearly having heard this proclamation more than once.
i mean if he takes care of me, i’ll take care of him.
you’re 22? how old are you willing to go?
40? maybe 42?
i hate to tell you this, miss utah, but the 40 year-old sugar daddies wouldnt appreciate you. could you go older? wiser? easier to please? 50?
have you heard of anna nicole smith before, ladies?
they hadnt so i told them the tale. when it was over they were blown away. as was i. how did none of it ring a bell? the legend of anna has died with gen z? mama mia.
by the time we got on the 101 near coldwater, miss utah had settled on 60 as her ceiling.
what if he wanted you to bring a friend or two home from the club? i asked.
why would he want something more than what i can give? she asked, seriously.
lets pretend this man is truly wealthy. and has traveled the world. and has seen and done some things we cant even imagine. he might request some things that don’t make a lot of sense on paper, but in this uber we dont kink shame. life is fleeting.
fine, she sighed, looking out at a wee bit of traffic as we approached the 405.
the ladies were headed to a bar in santa monica they accidentally thought was in venice.
so i had them change the destination on their app, which lost me a few bucks but who’s counting. they were on a mission to retrieve the blonde’s wallet which they had accidentally left behind oscar saturday because their outfits had no pockets.
first time in LA you say? did the men of santa monica beach pay you any mind?
oh yes. free drinks all night. thats why we left without knowing we had no wallet, miss pre-med said. but ive been checking the cards online and no one has charged anything on them, so we are hoping the manager found it last night.
tell me about utah.
it’s terrible.
i hear it’s pretty, i said.
this is pretty, one of them said while we cruised in the fast lane between the unusually green hills of bel air and brentwood.
we had established early, that one was catholic, the other was agnostic and neither had boyfriends. so i asked, whats it like dating mormon guys?
so weird! they both said in perfect harmony, then laughed.
i hear they do everything but, i said.
EVERYTHING BUTT, miss utah laughed, and kept laughing cracking herself up. her friend joined in.
because they think only pee-pee to pee-pee sex is sex?
yes, they said and asked if i had ever heard of soaking?
is that where the dude goes in slowly but then just lays there without moving?
yes! they screamed, startling me as we took the curve from the 405 to the 10 west, sin in our eyes, i mean sun.
but here’s the weird part, the blonde said.
there’s a friend who’s The Shaker, she laughed so hard she farted. then her friend laughed. i rolled down the windows and they laughed more. perfect day.
The Shaker, the future doctor explained, shakes the bed so neither party engaged in the lovin’ can be held accountable because they arent the ones moving… they just happen to be on a bed being rattled around by the pal who has to feel a bit awkward.
we got stuck exiting onto the 4th street off ramp so i took off my cubs cap and said out loud, Lord, these are two lovely young ladies. please help them find their wallet, and eventually realize their dreams in the nicest ways.
drove to USC even though my sherpa told me not to.
forgot to tell this beautiful woman from MIT that i was in love with her and we should start a family in south pas. just drove.
drove even though i wanted to just snuggle up with a series of giant bong loads and ice cream. i got out there into the night and hustled until 3am for several reasons including we only die once.
his name was richie. an asian millennial from culver city who had just gotten back from vegas where he was ‘consulting’ with a wealthy nepo baby.
you might call him a finance bro, because richie works for a well-known bank where in order to keep their best customers happy, he’s instructed to hang out with a few of them to wine and dine them and make sure they see boobies.
this work has taken richie to hollywood, north hollywood, west hollywood, atlanta and tj with this particular gentleman, who also trades stocks through him.
they’ve won financing homes, boats, small businesses; and a loss with crypto and a czech ex, dominica.
was he on speed, coke, pills? bro kept talking and talking. this is just the part i remember.
his client is basically a 60-year-old teenager who can’t get enough of the best things in life including overpriced paintings of star wars creatures in contemporary times, a backyard pool equipped with dozens of jets and a heating system that makes it an enormous hot tub.
and naturally, blondes, redheads, and mexican hookers.
but even that has lost its luster. richie’s bosses are nervous.
so when the client asked him thursday night, can you meet me at burbank airport at noon tomorrow, there was richie decked out in a business casual outfit, walking in some comfortable shoes, with a little rolling suitcase, because they were going to gamble and drink and all the other vegas shenanigans.
richie, though, knew they would spend the bulk of their quality time at the spearmint rhino, home of “more 10s than I’ve ever seen, dude,” according to my passenger who had his eyes closed but never stopped his monologue.
if he had given me a chance to interject, i would have shared that i once ubered a young lady from brentwood to LAX and when I helped her with her rolling bag it was unusually light as a feather.
i joked with her and said, i love a girl who only packs bikinis in her carry-on.
and she admitted she was just popping into the rhino for a couple days of dancing.
which would cover her month’s rent.
richie blew his nose in some jack-in-the-box napkins I had handed him as we cruised down the 10 towards the palisades – another place i shouldn’t have gone because once you’re there, late at night, you can get stuck, but the angels were flying with me.
bro was chugging purple gatorade while telling me how he blew through a grand at the club in the first twenty minutes. a private room for $300, then the bottle girl pouring two shots for $100, one for him and one for the dance, and then, then
and then your money has vanished.
they know what they’re doing, he said, swiping left on his phone, wearing sunglasses, at night
as we got on pch he told me about the time last year where they flew to san diego, took an uber to the border, walked over the bridge, and toured the infamous tijuana hong kong strip club slash brothel.
if this guys so rich why’s he humpin’ basic mexican girls in TJ? i asked.
dude, i dont know. he can have anyone. he just likes talking dirty to skinny latinas who blow cigarette smoke in his face and drink out of the jd handle
in your line of work, is it appropriate for you to indulge too?
my role is to make sure he didnt get robbed.
typically, i wouldnt have gotten along with a guy like richie. he seemed a tad frattish, a little elite, and shallow, but we hit it off.
sex, drugs, and rock brings people together i guess.
and he was keeping it real with me. and he was keeping it real.
reminded me of the boy scout from Up, but all grown… up.
he told me about when he talked his client out of going to mexico, and instead took him to commerce where there are just as many skinny mexican dancing prostitutes with camel light breath, and a lot less danger.
there richie did indulge in a $350 half-and-half, he called it.
beautiful beautiful woman, he said smiling like it had just happened.
as he sighed, i got an opening to say something. i told him, i could never do any of that in a million years. im a germaphobe.
then i thought to myself, plus how am i gonna explain myself at the pearly gates: she was pretty?
st. peter’s gonna say they were all pretty. wtf tony.
but richie looked so happy talking about it. like he was surprised she was so thorough and attentive and comfortable in that cramped backroom whose twin mattress quietly sobbed over its destiny
but i was built for children, it sniffled with each grunt from above
i wanted to ask richie about the music because thats my favorite part of strip joints but i saw his phone had dimmed and he had successfully nodded off back there in between dark s-turns of the wooded palisades
just a few minutes away from the crashing waves of the pacific
