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613526362 · 7 years

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Three Days, Three Cars on Fire

"They do this kind of a ring toss, where one girl throws rings and the other catches it in her ass. The things they stick in themselves, you wouldn't believe." Redacted It was getting to be my favorite time of night, the time when the people who get in my care are slightly less......inhibited, in what they say. Some passengers I could convince I was "one of them," especially the 20's early 30's guys. And I would typically work them over pretty good, see what fun I could conjure up in my car. With girls it was always different, especially if they were alone. Sometimes I wouldn't talk to them at all if they seemed disinterested. But if it was a dude, well, I was a dude. "Once a year, six of us rent out this place called the Burrow near [redacted] - which is a perfect name for it, considering it's completely underground - and we get like six or seven strippers. You wouldn't believe the things they do." He also educated me on the best strip clubs to go to, and which gym the strippers all go to. As we drove past it, I was a bit surprised he exercised and probably shouldn't have asked but did - "So you go there and meet them when you're working out?" "Oh no, I'm just making conversation at the clubs, and I'm always like, "You look really toned. Do you work out? And they tell me they come to [redacted]." As we talked I imagined myself working out there, seeing beautiful women and talking to them, telling them I'm a third year medical student. They would flirt with me, not thinking that I knew their secret stripper lives. I would ask them out. On the second date, or third, they would struggle to reveal to me that they strip. I would act a bit surprised. But I would be accepting. It would be something that, was, well, something that we would work through. Redacted "Brokamina?" "Yep, I've been to Brokamina twice, but on my last trip, I got a chance to go east to Bacheau too, over near Genide." I was impressed, but I should have expected that from a top New York TImes reporter. Oh wait, I guess I didn't know he wrote for the Times yet. I'm jumping ahead in the story. "So what language did you use there?" Another cunning question. I didn't even second guess whether he knew that English was not one of the languages spoken in Cado, and that French and Arabic predominated. "I was very lucky when I was in college, and I got the opportunity to study under the professors who wrote the Arabic textbook used by the entire English-speaking world. My french, on the other hand, was very rudimentary, and has since completely dissipated." As I chatted back and forth with the only individual I'd ever met who actually knew the capitol city of the African country I specialize in, I wondered about the pair. Based on the furniture they were discussing before I got pulled into things, I expected she was Afghani, and that would corroborate their discussions of her struggle to achieve asylum. I sensed that his interest was two-fold though. But did she? I was dropping them off at the same apartment, so maybe there was more than I knew. But he didn't seem to know enough about her to indicate they were actually together. He must have been early sixties. She couldn't have been much above 50. After I dropped them off, I got back on Tinder and Bumble. Tinder clearly has gone straight to hell. Bumble has ungodly amounts of beautiful and intelligent women, some of whom I would literally (literally) amputate a toe to have two dates with (but probably not one....she could slip away after just one). The ones who like me back have had unfortunate poundage though. Oh well. On Tinder (remember, hell), I've only had one match. I almost didn't message her at all. She looks kind of like Pandemos - both Hispanic. But she is god awful beautiful. 19 though. Oh god, 19. I would probably throw a clot when my penis even rubbed up against the lips of her vagina...........I don't know if I could actually push it in. Redacted The samurai and the princess were interesting. Not thrilling, but interesting. They ignored me completely, which is fine of course. Granted, when people do that, sometimes I but in. Like the three rich white bitches discussing all the wedding dresses they had just shopped for in downtown Big City when they just dropped into an utter silence after the question was raised, "Which one, well, did you really love?" I couldn't help myself. The two old hens were thinking so hard, I couldn't. I just couldn't. "Ma'am, I think the second dress is the right choice." Despite our class differences and the fact that they were probably a bit disdainful abotu sitting in a Corolla, they did laugh. "Oh! But that was the most expensive one!" Knowing what was in all of their minds, I brought it out for us to all admit - "Yes ma'am, and that's why it's the best." I was actually hoping I didn't get a call to comic con though. I didn't want to fuck with those people. And honestly, the samurai was probably a douchebag. He was trying to use words like "cosmic energy" and "echelon" and "force" as if becoming 12 again was something that would really impress the surprisingly attractive 30 year old princess..... And on a superficial level he was actually succeeding. I think it was due to a reason that wasn't revealed until later in the ride though... "I didn't know you were a lawyer until Pam said so!?" He changed the subject quickly, for some reason. When I went to drop them off, I looked inside the conference center and saw lots of picture taking and posing. It looked boring in a weird, unrealistic kind of way. When everyone is a superhero, it just, seems so ordinary. The samurai snapped my attention back to the fact that the ride wasn't quite over yet. "It won't open. You have the child locks on." What the fuck. What? I toggled a few switches by my left arm, which I thought were only switches for child locks on the windows. How the fuck could this be? He kept trying, and the lever was just limp. Nothing happen when he pulled. "Um.....that's weird. This has never happened before. I guess...." By that time they were already shifting to the other side to get out the other door. After they left I spent a few minutes in awe before I just asked google. Apparently when he stuffed himself in the frame of the door and scraped up against every piece of pain, plastic, and fabric between the outside world and a reasonable sitting position in my back seat, he also managed to hit a small and little known lever on the interal aspect of the door. A child lock. Fucking samurai couldn't even ride a taxi without locking himself in the car. Redacted I didn't know if I would make it. Three days ago I have 43 rides to do. And with hell week coming up - flying to [redacted] to testify on a murder case, ER shifts, final exams - it was now or never to get my first 100 rides with Lyft and earn the $500 bonus. Each day was marked by a burning car. The first day, as I grew increasingly racist, I sat in a car in the middle of a small economically devastated town on the border of [redacted state] and [redacted state] with a black kid. He rocked his dreadlocks back and forth as I turned up the Kendrick Lamar. I'd taken him to Wendy's and back home since he accidentally brought his manager's keys home. He said his mom was a Lyft driver. He said Kendrick's new album had been taken off Youtube, so he couldn't even listen to the damn thing anymore. Well hear it is young man, I ended your ride so you're not paying anymore. Let's have a listen. I didn't exactly want to be in [redacted state]. It was cool that I could see the skyscrapers of the Big City 30 miles south of there, but I would have been okay not knowing that. Nor did I want to be down south the next night, seeing the SWAT team out and about as I drove a super-toasted black woman from a house party to BittyBurgers so she could get her crave on. Of course she chatted and hugged the counter boy as I waited in the car and gave my Man on Fire stare to hustlers in the parking lot. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I thought. I was going to cancel the ride and run, but then I turned around. Yep, she left a bag in the car. Smart bitch. I've never seen myself as *very* racist, even if I know that all white people are a bit racist. But god, this shit made me fucking racist. Although I'd been avoiding it more and more, yesterday was the last straw. I was in Harian at 1am, thinking I would definitely only get college student rides around there. Nope, I got pulled six blocks southwest to the ghetto. It was a mom who wanted me to drive her, a three year old, and a six month old 30 minutes Southwest - deeper into the ghetto. Neither of the children were properly secured as per [redacted state] state law. If we had gotten pulled over, I would have lost my license. If we had gotten in a wreck, the children might have died. I've seen when that happens. You see, The Big City is segregated. Very segregated. And today, when I only needed 8 rides to finish, I told myself, "I'm not even turning on Fucking Lyft until I get north of the 66." And that's what I did. And it was swell. And I'm racist. Redacted My whole life I've always wanted to meet motivated, driven, outgoing, open-minded young people. People who are positive, and aren't afraid to reach out. People who are dedicated, even if they don't know exactly what to. There aren't many. Bree got in and..... I'm a bit tired of writing. Let's just say there was one more rider. One more ride. That I want to tell about. But I think I'll see her again. So, I'll leave the story. For another time.

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