The tales of the Geneva Shore Report Uber driver.
It was a typical Fat Cat’s, Thumbs Up, Sugar Shack run on a Saturday night. Actually it was very early last Sunday morning and I was up because I’m usually the only Uber up at that hour. My wife up and wandered away a few years back so the strange most profitable hours can be mine without complaint when I come home reeking of cigarette smoke and old booze. Not that I let them smoke or drink in my car, but what can you do with high-tipping smokers and drinkers.
I picked up an extraordinarily attractive woman at Fat Cat’s. She’d already finished her ‘run’ for the night among the other ‘just below the radar’ sites. She was drunk but not overly so. She talked of her attempts to find a pleasing man who might be semi-sober, unattached and doing well. In other words, I stepped on it to get here to her home in the country out past Elkhorn as fast as I could. My Uber counseling assistance program was off for the night, as long as I could get her out of the car and into her house. I drove up to an upscale house on a big lot with a decent driveway and a big pine covered lot. The light on was over the front door. I drove to the top of the driveway and got out her to let my ride out (dump her). She got out and asked me to help her to the front door. I took her arm, getting a bad feeling because she didn’t seem that drunk and the warmer temperatures had melted all the ice and snow. I walked her dutifully to the front door.
She’d paid and given me a twenty dollar tip, so what else could I do. At the door, instead of turning the handle and going inside she hit the door bell button. I stood next to her with a frown, wondering if she had brought me to the wrong house. The big wooden main door opened and a man stepped forth. The woman smiled at me and then up at him. He was a big guy. “You said I wouldn’t have the nerve to bring a boyfriend home…well, here he is…” she said, turning to me with a big smile and a wave of one hand. I ran. I leaped into my car, locked the doors and hit the ignition button wishing I’d not turned it off. I swore I’d never turn it off again until a ride was over if only God would keep me from getting killed by the big man beating on my window. I pulled out, half-dragging the man along before he gave up. I saw them both standing there at the top of the driveway through my rear view mirror. I thanked God for sparing me and promised I’d not go to the outskirts of Elkhorn again either.