woke up at 4:20am ready to rock, but there were no rides. by 5 i had showered, eaten a nearly stale croissant and pooped twice. still no rides.
at 6, i was out there. it was cold. turned on the seat heater. listened to howard stern. just before 7, the trips started coming in, and the rising sun lit up silver lake and echo park so beautifully that i wanted to climb baxter st. to see if it was even better up there.
not really. but still nice.
lots of good rides throughout the day, but the most interesting one was in inglewood with a guy with one lung.
when trips aren’t happening i make my way to south central because my belief is there will be less competition from other drivers who are scared of my people. which is how i got dwayne.
he emerged with a minute left to go and sure did seem to take his sweet ass time getting into my car and when he did, he was winded.
my lung… is gaining… strength, he panted. I wouldn’t have… been able to do… that at Christmas.
‘that’ being a walk down a short flight of stairs, then across a small yard and into the car of an impatient jerk who suddenly felt terrible for judging this frail Black man who was going to mcdonalds.
the app told me we were going to mickey d’s and that was it.
does mcdonalds know we’re coming? i asked slightly judgmentally because one of the biggest pet peeves of rideshare drivers is having to go through a drive thru. but it was 8am. maybe he works there?
no, I am so sorry, dwayne said. if the line is long, i will go into the lobby and if you could wait until the next stop, that would be so nice.
next stop? i thought. looking back at the app that said no such thing.
yes, the next stop, he said. apparently I said it out loud.
i could have sworn i pushed it in there. where is it in the app?
i said, it’s in there. just find Add a Stop and type in where you want to go next.
annoying things you can make me do on a trip, ranked:
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add a stop
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have me go in a drive thru
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wait for you to get something inside somewhere
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wait for you to get in the car
dwayne had checked off all of ‘em in 3 minutes.
if he had two good lungs, my attitude would have been much angrier.
three coffees, 12 sugars, 4 creamers, 3 mcgriddles with sausage, 4 hash browns and 5 apple pies, he said through his window at the screen.
but when he said it, he had to catch his breath mid-sentence and naturally the mcdonald’s worker kept cutting him off asking, what?
now i was mad at the mcdonalds guy
THE BROTHER SAID FIVE APPLE PIES i yelled into the box.
as we waited for the cars ahead of us, dwayne handed me a $20 and asked, if i pay you cash, can you to take me to the next stop?
why yes you can, dwayne, i said and tucked that bill into my emergency hidey hole.
but take note would be uber drivers, do not accept money for a new trip until you know the full details. they may want you to take them to malibu. or san diego. or omg in-n-out.
and if he passes out in your car and the meter is off, you are no longer protected by anything – you have no insurance for this and no record of anything. and now you have a half-dead Black man in your car drooling on his 3 mcgriddles and 5 apple pies. that’s a lot of explaining you’ll have to do,
especially if the cop looks at the receipt and it says five pies but they only count three.
but bro was strong, gasping for breath a lot, but hanging in there.
so, fuckit. i asked him how it happened. how did you lose your lung? please say from gambling, i joked, and he smiled.
one day i was feeling a little light headed, so i went to urgent care and the nurse asked me if i wanted any water. i said yes. and when she returned, i reached for it, i blinked and woke up a week later, he said.
i saw tears welling up in his eyes as he spoke, but surely thats just a condition?he couldnt be crying telling me this story? this is a tale he must have told hundreds of times.
but the more he went on, the more he cried.
of the long list of bad traits that i have, is the fact i cannot have sadness in my personal space for long. i blame the 50 years of the chicago cub futility i experienced. as he was sitting back there waiting for his ridiculous mcgriddles order, crying his eyes out, i said something you would probably predict would come from me:
can a guy with one lung smoke weed?
we got to the window. pretty girl with great makeup refused to make eye contact with us and did not want to hand over the 12 sugars and 3 creamers but i was there for my man, forcefully, and she relented.
i asked him where the next stop was. crips territory, he told me. and oddly i knew where that was because of a previous passenger – just like six blocks away.
when we got there, he finally answered and said, i get high every day. it’s the one thing that really works for me.
shocked, i asked, edibles? vaping?
i have a little bong… on my nightstand. dwayne said.
i gave him $10 back. he resisted. bruh, that was such a short second stop. that wasn’t worth $10.
are you sure, he asked?
yes, buy a nice dimebag with it.
then dwayne walked slowly into a raggedy apartment building with breakfast for himself and who knows who else. a dog barked as he struggled with the metal security door and two kids came running out saying, unk is that for us?
and now if anyone ever asks me to go into a drive thru or make another stop im gonna say this dude with one lung gave me $20 for such a request