I am an UBER driver and some days I love it and some days I can’t stand it. The constant fear of vomit. The constant fear of people attacking you. The constant fear of not being able to pee…

I started driving for UBER last May and quickly loved it then quickly hated it. I’m laughing while I write this because I remember my first awkward/horrible encounter with a rider nearly a week into the job.

So, the story goes as follows: On a cool summer night on Cary St. of Richmond, VA, a group of girls stumble drunk out of a bar requesting an UBER. I, “luckily,” got the request sent to my phone and I, of course, accept it. I was about a minute away when a great song came on over Spotify and I jammed to it as much as I could before getting there. With no regrets the song was “I’m Gonna Be” by The Proclaimers. The song was still playing when I arrived to their location. They open the doors (I have a Toyota Tacoma, no lift) and they attempt to get in with the assistance of each other…they all looked absolutely ridiculous trying to help each other out. After one would get in the others weren’t being very successful. So the one that had successfully got in, got out to help her friends (repeat this process four times).

It looked like they were playing musical chairs and I was just looking at them like this:

And for some reason this is what watching them reminded me of:

Back to the story.

So one announced to the others, “which one is less drunk?!” and with a quick five second later response, “ME!” from one of the girls. Now keep in mind that there are four girls total and they are all super sloshed. After gaining frustration and thinking if this was my daughter I would want someone to help. I get out walk around to hearing the police officer yelling at me to get back in my vehicle and go, but I continued to help the girls out while I explain to the officer that I am an UBER driver just trying to get these girls home. After he decides to help out to get the process moving, the girls start yelling at us because they are “strong independent women.” They wanted to get in by themselves. So, they finally get in and I hop in the driver seat buckle up and I’m ready to go until I hear, “DON’T GO YET I'M NOT BUCKLED!” This girl was determined and adamant about being buckled. So I tried to help her but again she said no. So I told her and the group, "I’m going to drive safely," to the location.

We get on the road and of course they are typical drunk college girls that are always annoying. I felt like Jason Bateman in Identity Thief.

And the entire time all I wanted to do was:

After the 10-minute ride to their dorm, I open the door to help them because I saw in the rear view mirror that some had passed out so I was going to help them get out and get to their dorms. When I open the door the cab lights come on and out of the corner of my eye I see a smurf…

This chick that wanted her seat belt on so badly couldn't resist having some sort of restraint with a side of suicide to top if off! She has wrapped the seat belt around her neck and the locking mechanism activated! This chick was blue as could be and dying before my eyes. Her Friends were just pointing and laughing at her saying, "Haha she's blue!"

Excuse me! She's dying!

So I jump out and tried to free her from her own death grip that she had constructed. One of her friends quickly runs inside (Where are you going?). So I run back around grab my knife and cut my seat belt to free her. When she comes to after 10 minutes she doesn’t say, "Hey thanks for saving my life,” or “Oh my God, you’re my savior.” Nope. She says—wait for it...

"This is all your fault!” *pointing at me*

Excuse me?! As I walk back around to the driver side the girl that had run inside for apparently no reason came running back out screaming,

“I've got scissors!"

"Shut up, Carol! She's free!"

I left and UBER took care of the damages and never let her ride again.

So that’s one story that I consider my worst.

This is my best and favorite.

Late one fall night, I picked up a group of people. Two girls and a feminine guy. The guy sits up front and the two girls sit in the back. The one girl sitting behind me is extremely intoxicated and hasn’t had her first throw up session yet. That comes later. So from Cha Cha’s Cantina, I take them to their house deep in the fan (about a 15-minute ride). On the way there I spark up conversation with the two sober ones. Half way through the trip, girl behind me says she’s not feeling well and she needs to hurl. I quickly pull over and open the door behind me and she leans out the truck, falling into my arms, she begins to vomit. With one hand holding her hair the other holding her up to keep her from falling out.

As she’s going at it, I look over to her friend and she asks me if I’m southern. My response was like most Virginians with a slight country accent, “I garsh darn reckon me lady!” I got a laugh out of that from her which made the awkwardness subside. She continued to say “Yeah we have work tomorrow at 7 a.m.” I look at her with a face that may have seemed like she may be the dumbest person alive. “Well that sucks.” She tells me that her and her puking friend, are nurses at VCU and they have IV meds to help them sober up quickly.

So after this girl is done puking we get back in the truck and on the road. I ask the sober girl what department she works in at VCU Hospital. With hesitancy, she responds to me saying that they both work in oncology. I say back to her oh cool, my dad was in the hospital in the oncology wing for a while. She asked what his name was and I told her Mike Roberts… I don’t hear anything back from her the entire trip.

We get to the destination and the girl behind me is out like a light with no possible electricity pumping through her veins. I semi wake her up and semi carry her to the door and let her guy friend help her inside. I turn around and the girl that I had carried on a conversation with but stopped abruptly when mentioning my father’s name, was crying her eyes out. My youth minister consoling mentality came out and tried to comfort her wanting to figure out how I can help. She then proceeded to tell me that she was one of the morning shift nurses on staff taking care of my father… My father passed away June 2015… This was October 2015… Did we hold each other and cry? Yes we did. She proceeded to tell me that my father was her most favorite patient she’s ever had and she isn’t allowed to have favorites.

I couldn’t do anymore UBERing that night after that. This is proof that God has a sense of humor.