DISPATCH #2

The other day I picked up a ride downtown.
The app said the trip was for Ben.
Right as I’m pulling up, my phone rings.
It’s Ben… explaining that he isn’t actually the rider.
The passenger will be someone else.
While I’m still on the phone trying to sort out that mystery, the back door opens and—
poof—there she is.
Somewhere early in the ride she tells me her name is November.
Of course it is.
So, I respond the only way that seems appropriate in that situation.
“All right then… How doo youu do?”
All Sing-Songy like I’m greeting royalty at a royal ball.
She immediately plays along.
“I do quite well,” she says, laughing. “After this I’m going thrifting with a friend.”
Now we’ve got about 14 miles and 33 minutes ahead of us, so the conversation gets rolling.
She tells me she’s looking for those jars full of mixed gems and beads you always see at thrift stores.
“I want to get enough of them to make a shirt,” she explains.
“A shirt?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says. “I think it would be really cute.”
Now when someone tells you they plan to build a shirt out of thrift-store beads, there’s really only one responsible thing a Lyft driver can do.
I say, “Hold on… let me check with the judges.”
I turn and stare out the passenger window like I’m consulting some invisible panel of fashion experts.
After a moment I nod.
“Yep. Just as I thought,” I say.
“You may proceed.”
She laughs and tells me she never drives anywhere.
“I’m basically an Uber Princess.”
I glance down at my phone.
“But… this is Lyft.”
She pauses for a second.
“Oh. My bad.”
Then she corrects herself.
“Okay. I’m a Lyft Princess.”
Somewhere during the ride, she also mentions that the person who ordered the trip isn’t actually Ben.
Apparently, his name is Rick.
So, at this point the ride consists of:
Ben
who might actually be Rick
transporting November, the Lyft Princess
…and for a minute there, I almost forgot who I was.
Thirty-three minutes later we pull into the Foothills. She thanks me, hops out, and heads up the stairs toward the apartment.
That’s when I notice the wardrobe situation.
Let’s just say those shorts were operating under extremely optimistic engineering standards, modestly assisted by a very sheer overshirt.
A few minutes later my phone dings.
$5.00 tip.
Now here’s the mystery.
Did it come from:
Mr. Ben…
Mr. Rick…
or November, the Lyft Princess?
To this day, I have absolutely no idea.

Either way, I’m pretty sure I now need to sanitize the back seat…

and possibly schedule therapy.

Oh, the humanity.

Well… see you next time.

— Steve
The Wayward Trucker

Have you ever had a funny or strange ride?
Just hit reply and tell me about it.