Border Crossings

Everything is not what we think

Prelude

I was in San Diego which is most always a pleasant place to be. It had been a good weekend thus far. I had gotten a boost when I received a fare for a long trip from Long Beach to Oceanside on Saturday afternoon. After a break on the beach in sunny San Diego, I worked all day Saturday and on through the night until near dawn on Sunday, finally running out of energy after completing an early morning run to the San Diego airport. I flipped off my app and decided to take a nap in one of my favorite spots, seizing the moment while it was still dark enough that I could fall asleep.

I pulled into the parking stalls by the marina adjacent to downtown where the touring yachts were docked. Here, I could rest safely without anyone bothering me — plus I had a spectacular view of the downtown skyline and the reflections of the twinkling skyscrapers dancing and undulating in the soft ripples that rolled across the oil-slicked veneer of the marina pool.

It would be a brief nap for the parking spaces in the shade of the few trees had already been occupied by some colleagues — drivers who had likely just finished a shift burning the midnight oil much like myself. I had to get some rest soon. I had a long day ahead of me with several rides to complete in order to qualify for the weekend bonus. As a full-time driver, those bonuses sustained me.

I dozed off until the sun rose a short while later, shining bright through my backdoor window and forcing me to get…