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The Ultimate Uber Experience

by Jerrica 3 years ago in single

An Uber driver literally picks up a rider.

This is how we park in Boston during winter. 

Welcome to 2018, where at the touch of your finger, you can hail a ride from a complete stranger. That stranger is me. I was driving for Uber in my spare time, mainly for entertainment, but the extra cash didn’t hurt. To be quite honest, I’m actually the worst Uber driver, although my ratings wouldn’t confirm that. I constantly get people lost but I distract them with jokes and my Bostonian charm, so it’s like they never even know. And somehow I pulled through with a 4.9. I love just chatting to people about whatever it is that they bring up. I’m a great listener and sometimes, people just really need and would like to talk about themselves. I was there for it. I was getting paid for it. And I loved it.

Now, I never talk to people unless they talk to me first. And don’t get me wrong, it can be quite entertaining but it can be hella awkward as well. Especially if it’s just one person and they decide to sit in the front seat as if they’re my friend. And then they don’t even talk to me. My elbow is practically touching yours on my middle console and you speak no words?! Why? Why would you do that? Get the fuck in the back seat, bro.

Anyways, I’m not here to talk about awkward interactions with other humans. I’m here to talk about the ultimate Uber story that I have. Now, it’s been a goal of mine to ‘pick up’ a guy while Ubering. And this story is about the one time I finally did.

Now, as a female, I tend to get hit on when guys get into my car. Not always, but it does happen. And usually, I’m really turned off, especially by their approach. I’m all about vibes and I’m telling you, you can feel the vibes of a person the second they sit down in your car. You can usually gauge if they’ll talk to you or not and you can usually tell who it is you would like to talk to and who it is you would not.

Again, moving on. It was a normal day. I had a usual route I went on daily and I usually got a ride somewhere during that route. Ding ding ding, someone is requesting a ride! I accept. When you accept a ride, the rider’s name shows up and then it loads the directions. I honestly forget this guy’s name. Let’s call him John, for simplicity. So I go to pick up John and he hops in my car and instantly starts chatting to me about his day. And like I said before, vibes are real. Him going off about his daily issues was not annoying in the slightest. The way he spoke and the way he formed his sentences, it was like as if I was chatting to one of my own friends. He had my attention.

He told me that he was from out of town and just got off the bus and felt like an Uber was best for the rest of his journey. He stated that he took an Uber earlier that day and there was an accident. Another rider got out of the car and while the door was open, some moron Masshole came and hit the open car door, taking the whole thing off. WHAT?! Just imagine you’re in an Uber and all of a sudden someone takes the door off. OMG. So that happens to be when he decided to say ‘fuck this’ and continued to take the bus and then by the fates of the universe, got me as his next Uber driver.

His destination you may be wondering... was the liquor store. So I joked about how his day must have been rough if that was his destination. As I’m chatting to him, I completely drive by the entrance to the liquor store, obviously. So, I take the next right and hope I can make it to the parking lot from the one I just pulled into. I can’t. Obviously. I joked about being a terrible driver and told him I’d swing around and get him into the parking lot. He told me it was fine and he would just hop over the bushes. Before he got out, he asked me if I’d wait for him to bring him home after. I wanted more conversation, I was eager for it. So I told him it’s the least I could do. Then, he asked if I wanted any nips (the teeny tiny bottles of alcohol, we call them nips in Massachusetts). I happened to be extremely hungover that day and was on one of those “I’m never drinking again” phases and was trying to stick to my guns so I sadly declined.

He returned and tried to change the drop-off address in the app. It wasn’t working so I told him that I’d just shut off my app and he could guide me the rest of the way. We chatted some more and somehow the conversation turned into what my plans were for the rest of the day and if I’d be available to hang out. I asked him if he smoked and he said he did and he mentioned that he instantly knew I did from the flannel hanging on the back of my passenger seat. How does a flannel indicate that I’m a pot smoker? That’s beyond me but I continued to give John my number.

I dropped him off and continued on my Uber journey, desperately waiting for a text message. Hours later, I received it and boy, my dimples were in full bloom when I opened up the message.

Fast forward to me anxiously driving to where he was staying. This is so unlike me. I don’t even have a Tinder. I’m always avoiding ‘dates’ and constantly throw out excuses to not hang out with people. I caved and pit stopped at the liquor store to grab some Fireball nips to ease my nerves. What’s wrong with me? I declined free nips and here I am a few hours later, wasting my own money on them because I’m a little wuss.

I pull up, take a shot, and he jokingly opens the back door. I’m like “What are you doing, we’re friends now, you can sit in the front.” He laughs and mentions he’s just messing with me. I like this, a lot. A sense of humor is key. He hops in the front and off we go to pick up some bud.

We were going to smoke and do some Uber Eats. I love smoking and doing delivery because I’m able to have a friend in the car with me. It started to rain and I was sooo high and sooo nervous that Uber was out of the question. He asked if I wanted to go back to his place and I said yes.

We headed there, we went inside, I drank the rest of my nips, and this isn’t an erotic story so this is where it ends. And that is the story of how I hooked up with my Uber rider. Goal achieved.



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Read next: How to Finally Realize You’re Bisexual at the Age of 22

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