don’t hang up when i tell you they were two crypto manboys living in separate gated communities in an already exclusive part of orange county.
why do the wealthy need gates in rich neighborhoods? they don’t, but they do it anyways because sometimes you wanna look down on the poor and sometimes you want to look down on the almost-as-rich-as-you.
brad waltzed out of his two-story mcmansion with a spiked diet coke in a red solo cup wearing a blink-182 cap, sporting some gray in his five o’clock shadow. he moved the tricycle from the driveway onto the edge of his large lawn and away from the shiny cybertruck.
i was to drive him to his buddy’s house not far away and because it was lyft black, the most expensive platform i am qualified to drive in my vehicle, i excused everything. in part because i was being paid $40 to take him 10 minutes away. if i can make $25 an hour im happy so… wanna drink from a spilly cup back there? fine.
want me to wait at the first gate? whatever.
$40 is $40 and i had just crept from el segundo to irvine in impacted traffic with a very vocal back seat driver who screamed when i hit a plastic cone that scuffed my front fender, and it all took me an hour an a half and i only got $38.
so take your sweet time, brah, $40 in 10 is the universe evening things out.
while we waited to get buzzed into his friend’s second gate, brad said to me, i dont know how to use this app, would you mind if i added a stop after we pick up my business partner?
typically adding a stop is something i hate, because lord knows where they wanna stop, and murphys law they take for ever where they’re stopping. but on lyft black, add a million stops, lets stop at ever corner.
i can help you add a stop if you want, i said and held out my hand to get his phone, which he pulled away like i was gonna steal it.
no no, he said, what im asking is, which would you prefer? me to pay you on the side, or for us to do it on the app?
seriously, i said earnestly, i just want things to be easier for you my man. the customer is always right. right?
im trying to help you out, brad whispered, then taking a sip from his cup.
finally catching the hint that maybe he didn’t want his wife (or whoever) to see where he was going if they were tracking his lyft receipts, i agreed. cash is king i sang, then, where do you want to go after we get your bro?
there’s a restaurant called the red o in Newport about 40 minutes away, would you be cool taking us there?
no problem, i said. i actually know exactly where that is. traffic has been bad today but if it’s truly 40 minutes, i can do it for $40.
now, gentle reader, i knew i was offering this wealthy young man an extremely good deal, but call me monty hall, but i like making extremely good deals.
for many reasons.
i knew lyft would charge these guys $100+ to get from the highlands of huntington beach to newport beach mall, and i knew they’d probably do it for $60. but at my heart im a hippy and $40 for 40 minutes is the correct amount, so that’s what i asked for. he accepted and said he’d give me more, which is usually the kiss of death.
while we drove up the hill to his buddy’s immaculate home, he told me how 10 years ago they’d both gotten surprise $20k bonus checks at the place they worked.
brad said they were already making good salaries and at the time were in their early 30s and single and considered it found money, so they put it all into bitcoin and boom, very quickly they became multi millionaires.
wait what? i said.
yep, brad confirmed, sipping from the cup.
the fare will now be $42, i told him
he spit out some of his coke and laughed along with me.
when we got to johnny’s house he wasn’t outside yet so brad called him.
you here? johnny asked.
yeah, been outside for 19 minutes, brad joked, be respectful.
i laughed and thought, am i a frat boy deep down? why is brad winning me over?
johnny got in and as we zigzagged down the hill and through the dark, perfect roads with giant trees and wide lawns, the men teased each other about their smokeshow wives and spoiled kids and asked each other about thanksgiving that had just passed and the errands they were forced to endure.
i grilled mine this year bro, johnny bragged.
is grilling a turkey a thing? i asked.
oh it’s a thing, brad said pridefully. i did it last year—best turkey i’ve ever made.
really? so what’s the secret to doing it right?
first, you gotta have the right bird, johnny began, also sipping out of a cup, i noticed. get a Willie Bird from Williams-Sonoma. they brine it for you so it’s perfectly seasoned. no neck, no gizzards—clean as brad’s girlfriend’s cooch.
hey now! brad laughed and they clicked plastic then took swigs.
how much do they charge you for this wallybird?
johnny laughed WILLY BIRD, because it’s from william sonoma. price? i have a wife, so I don’t ask those kinds of questions. but i’d guess… $200.
brad nodded and said sounds about right. a good turkey at whole paycheck might run you $160. if you’re going basic, maybe $120 at Albertsons. but a Willie Bird is something else. plus, you don’t have to deal with the mess in your kitchen. have you ever brined your own turkey? it’s like world war three in there.
and his kitchen is all-white, johnny noted.
shit, my whole house is all-white: couches, carpets, christmas lights, brad said.
but not your sidechick, johnny sneered.
clink.
brad was into it and said, i stuffed mine with apples, oranges, and onions, then poured white wine into the pan. then i wrapped it in foil for the first four hours, and then you take the foil off for the last hour to crisp the skin.
if theres one thing i love it’s crispy skin. so i looked in the mirror and asked, you can cook it for an hour and get crispy skin without drying it all out?
it’s perfectly crispy, he said. the trick is taking the foil off at the right time. and pay attention. you can’t get baked while it’s baking. i set a lot of 15 minute timers so i kept peeking at it.
the best part is watching brad fuss over it, johnny said, he’s out there with an apron and a thermometer in one hand and a corona in the other checking the temperature and missing the football games. puffing on a stogie. dog trying to get anything that spills.
that’s called attention to detail, johnny. can’t rush greatness.
usually i wait until after the story ends to tell you how much they tipped, but what came next was not a tip, technically, it was the cash he gave me for the ride from johnnys to newport.
when i parked in the curved valet he said, forty bucks, huh?
i was all yep.
he peeled off a $100 bill and aimed the red Solo cup at me as a toast.
thank you so much i said and slipped the benjamin into my glove box.
while i pulled the car out of the valet and made a turn at the light i heard a noise in the back seat. something had fallen to the ground. a cell phone with a photo of a cybertruck.
so i looped back around, parked in the lot, opened the passenger side back seat door and there, in a small puddle of watery booze was the phone.
because ive been to this rodeo, i had a roll of paper towels in my trunk. retrieved that, wiped off the phone and tried to clean the water on the rubber floor mats but holy shit there was a lot of water.
so i went into the trunk and got a beach towel.
in hitchikers guide to the galaxy douglas adams says to always have a towel.
in la always have a beach towel.
i soaked up all the liquid from back there, balled it up and put the towel back in the trunk, making a mental note not to leave it there over night.
then i walked into the restaurant looking for the men.
i spied the blink-182 trucker hat and said, brad? they were at the bar, ordering shots.
i held up the phone.
he opened his arms and we hugged.
thank you! oh my god. thank you.
it’s my pleasure.
hey wanna have a drink with us?
im DRIVING i reminded them, and took off into the night
wondering if in the morning id have a tip in the lyft app once he remembered what went down.