Are You Coming On to Your Uber Driver?

Journal Entry #3

I am not as young as my hip blog might indicate. My uniform is a half zipper pullover with corduroys; Abercrombie & Fitche will not knocking on my door EVER.

That is why I have been mystified by the attraction that some passengers feel towards their Uber driver. My first sordid encounter occurred when I picked up Hussein at a downtown night club that only opens on the weekends from 3:00–6:00 am. Hussein was still pumped up and wanting to party. He told me that he was a grad student at Georgia Tech who recently arrived from Kuwait. I inquired about the availability of Kuwaiti women in the area and Hussein shared that his search had not yet been fruitful.

Clearly, he was lonely and that became more obvious when he invited me to join him for drinks at his place. At some point during the conversation, he placed his hands on my neck and began massaging. I was cognizant of the fact that this was not normal driver-passenger behavior. However, I did remember reading once that Mid-Eastern men tended to be affectionate with one another and that it was a cultural thing. Besides, who doesn’t like a nice neck massage?

The illusion of innocent male bonding was dispelled when my young Arab friend turned to me and said, “Come on. We can party and have a really good time.”

I wanted to let him down gently, given his social situation. “I am so sorry, Hussein, but my day is just beginning. Not that you aren’t a great guy.” He seemed disappointed as he stumbled out of the car and out of my life.

It was my first come-on from a guy, ever. And I have to admit, I was a little flattered. True, he was drunk off his rocker …

On another late night/early morning run, I got a call to pick up Shawn from the Landmark Diner, a 24 hour joint where Atlantans go when all the bars have shut down, you have the munchies, you want to keep the party going, and fine dining is not your biggest concern.

When I arrived, a very wasted Sienna slipped into the front seat. “Shawn is arguing with someone about stocks and trading.” I looked over my shoulder to see that he was indeed close to fisticuffs over the apparently hot issue of security investments. Shawn finally slipped into the backseat and his passion turned to the lady of his dreams. He began telling Sienna how much he loved her and that he wanted to get married. It was touching in a pathetic sort of way.

Sienna just ignored him and started blasting the radio. She then placed her hand on my leg. All the while, Shawn was continuing to profess his love to her from the backseat of the car.

Trying to ignore the situation and the fact that Sienna was not sitting in the back with her man, I asked the loving couple how long they had been together. Sienna shared that they had just met two hours earlier. The drive to the Highlands consisted of Sienna’s continuous attempts to engage in under the dashboard contact and Shawn’s declarations of devotion to his beloved.

We pulled into the driveway of his building and he got out to open the gate. Sienna had a strange look on her face as if unsure about the situation. It was time to put my dad hat on as a father of three daughters. I told her that she did not have to get out of the car if she was feeling pressured. Her response was not daughter like. She began rubbing my leg again and I once more gently had to remove her hand from my pants. Sienna shrugged her shoulders and opened the door, “I’ll be okay, sweet uber man.” It was my first come-on as a driver from…a woman. And I have to admit, I was a little flattered. True, she was drunk off her rocker …

Driving on New Year’s Eve, I chauffeured a lot of inebriated people around; the prize went to a party of four-the men were African American and the women were white. The girls were beyond intoxicated and could not stop talking about the current state of their sexual down-unders and what they planned to do to the apparatus of their male partners. I felt like an extra in a porn movie (the five minutes at the beginning when everyone is still clothed.) Sitting behind me was a tall blonde who insisted that I jack up the rap music she had selected. She was disappointed when I told her that the volume could not exceed a level where I couldn’t hear GPS directions or police sirens. Perhaps it was my strong denial of her request. Maybe it was my Uber uniform. Or possibly the fact that she was drop dead drunk. Whatever the reason, her full attention turned to me. I felt my seat shaking as she gyrated against it from behind. She then wrapped her arms around me and the front seat. “I want to know your name but you can’t tell me. I want to guess.” You can’t make this stuff up! And so began my reenactment of the Rumpelstiltskin story. I kept wondering when one of her male companions was going to step in and perhaps knife me but alas, they seemed to enjoy the break in her attention. She asked for a first initial and then began rattling off her guesses. “Is it Steve, Stuart…?” I never realized how many guys’ names start with S.

At long last, we arrived at our destination. “I still don’t know your name” she pouted. I shared my identity totally relieved that the game was ending. She rolled my name slowly off her lips,squeezed me and the front seat one last time and then carefully balanced herself on her stilettos as she exited the car. I felt like I needed a shower. Being the object of desire is not nearly as much fun as it once was.

THE WRAP UP

When I think about these experiences I realize that so much of this is about people needing other people. When the filters come down, there is a tendency to express that on a physical level. But isn’t it really about seeking a connection. The world is filled with people looking for that one person who is going to make them feel wanted. But when they are drunk they find themselves looking for love in all the wrong places…like in a Subaru with a chauffeur.

QUESTION OF THE WEEK One of my growing number of followers wrote: “Who do you see playing yourself in the upcoming major motion picture about your amazing blog?”

That’s a good question. I think I’d like to be played by #Cuba Gooding Jr. A lot of people think we look alike and he has a great sense of humor.

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NEXT WEEK: The Road to Angola-Oh the Places I Have Gone