#uberconfessions

[uberconfession]

Driving Mister Grumpy Pants

It’s been ages since I drove for Uber. So it’s time to get some practice before Coachella comes back around. I like to choose a very tedious task to do at home while I wait for a ride request. In this case, I chose credit card expense reports. Truly one of my least favorite things.

In the middle of November’s Citibank card, I heard salvation with the Uber alarm. Gonna have to do this crap some other night.

Arriving at the apartment, I called Samantha the rider. A grumpy sounding guy answered, and said he would be right down. Time for me to browse Facebook for cute kitten videos.

All I could see what the outline of a tall man wearing a hoodie and carrying a case for something long. A tennis racquet? Maybe fishing poles? A shotgun? I still couldn’t see the man’s face as he got in the car, the hoodie was pulled way over his face. Nobody else was coming. This man was Samantha.

I ask: Are you Samantha’s ride? Grumpy Sounding Guy: I guess so, yah

Last time a man got in my car when I was expecting a woman, the guy pointed his gun at me and other strange stuff. Read the gripping tale here: Scary Uber Story

That’s not going to happen again. No way it’s going to happen.

The ride is 30 minutes away to the Casino in Cabazon. Score! We head off in silence, except when he grumbled for me to turn the music up. That was when a rap song came on.

About 10 minutes into the ride Grumpy Pants asks: How does it work that Samantha’s name is on the ride? Me: That’s the name that came up, this must be on Samantha’s account. I hope you were the right person for my ride….” Grumpy Rider: Samantha is my fucking ex-girlfriend. My friend arranged for the drive. Me: Well, Samantha’s account will be paying for the ride Grumpy Pants: That’s fucked up.

Twenty more minutes later we arrive at the Casino.

Me: I hope you can work things out with Samantha Grumpy Rider: I’m going to kill that fucking bitch, then take her car Me: Oh, okay. Well…. good luck

I turn around to see Mister Grumpy Rider pause as exiting. He turned to look at me and I can see him for the first time. He looks like a caricature of a gangster rapper scary dude from the south side. He’s laughing at me.

Grumpy Dude: Good luck? I’m gonna kill that fucking bitch. I don’t need no luck.

I turn off the Uber app. No more driving for tonight.

[uberconfession]

Uber Privelge

One of the most common requests I receive the first week of Coachella goes something like this:

“I have a VIP pass, so you can drop us off at the VIP gate. Okay?”

It’s never a question, more of a statement. The tone of voice is a mixture of forced confidence and insecurity from knowing that this will not happen. They think that their Jedi mind trick will convince me to escort them to the forbidden gate.

That’s when I get to pull out my favorite Coachella reply: Nope

Something about shutting down the privileged. I feel a sense of satisfaction as a member of the proletariat. Hastag resist.

If they respond with a look of shock, I leave it at that. If they look hurt or confused I elaborate.

“There are three levels of guards at the VIP entrance. If I don’t have the proper car pass and a wrist band, they will yell at me. If I get yelled at, I will cry. I hate crying in front of strangers.”

That usually smooths things over.

[uberconfession]

Uber Priorities

Two young guys discussed their strategy for the first day of Coachella:

“When we get to the H&M tent, let’s pretend we don’t see anyone so we don’t have to talk to them. They are great sponsors and all, but all I want is to find Mario, get my drugs and take off.”

[crownthemroyal-blog]

😩😂😩😂 #CardiB #AccurateAF #UberConfessions

[theweddingplanner-blog1]

When you have a full conversation with an uber driver about how you both work at a donut shop. #wedont #stories #uberconfessions #gaydenver

[uberlegends-blog]

[uberlegends-blog]

Second best tip ever.

[uberlegends-blog]