What Ever Possessed Me?

In the savage heart of Los Angeles, 2022 tried to break me with a vengeance. The old bat I’d been with for a decade made a run for it with the kids, leaving nothing but the stinging whip of her insults echoing through the empty halls of the Koreatown walkup we had been living in for many years. Then, as if fate had more in store for me, my lousy gig of half a decade showed me the door. My days were reduced to a drug-less haze; sprawling on my tattered, broken-down 1970s vintage hid-a-bed sofa, diving deep into the chaotic void of the good old interwebs.

But the universe has a twisted sense of humor, and in walks the whisper of Uber, like a gust of mad wind. Why the hell not? I thought.

My debut, however, was a disaster – lost like a squirrel on a caffeine trip – but damn, it felt right. In this mechanical hybrid beast, cruising through the concrete jungle, I was king. The master of my hours, the captain of my whiny ship, and the lord of the road.

My passengers? A parade of souls. Some were as mad as the city’s heart. From phony chit-chats, it transformed into an audience to my fevered rants, like a budgeted celebrity show on wheels. Instead of lame gossip or signing photos, I sped them through LA’s arteries. It felt alive.

Being in the Uber game, there’s a hint of power. A little drug of control. At 2 am, when someone’s stranded, it’s up to me to be their savior or nemesis. Should we cruise straight or take the scenic route with Jimmy Buffett crooning? The wheel, the choice, all mine.

Since this wild ride began, a glimmer of hope shines. I’m training – believe it or not – for a speed-walking bout, fueled by Smarties and energy drinks. On the prowl for love, I’ve thrown a line out on Plenty Of Fish of all places. Luck’s been a coy mistress, but in the rearview of my Uber, who knows? Perhaps a timid damsel, a wild flight attendant, or some LA heiress who’ll drop her purse of hundreds.

So, a toast to you, Uber. For pulling a twisted soul out of the abyss. But damn, if I could squeeze an extra buck or two from those tightwad non-tipping riders. But I’ll keep riding, with a bobblehead squirrel on the dash, chasing the mad dream, one fare at a time. And if I spot an old dame that looks like Betty White, she rides for free.

Last year was a nightmare, let me tell you. My old lady ran off with the kids, leaving me alone with nothing but a fistful of insults she’d been flinging my way for the past ten years. Then, just to really twist the knife, I got canned from my job of five years. My confidence was shot to hell, and I spent my days slouching around the house, surfing my couch, and clicking around aimlessly on the internet.

But then someone mentioned Uber to me, and I figured, why not give it a shot? Sure, I got lost on my first trip, and it was embarrassing, but something about it just clicked for me. Suddenly I was my own boss, able to set my own hours and take charge of my own life. It was like a dream come true.

My daily interactions used to be nothing but small talk and empty pleasantries. But as an Uber driver, people were paying me to listen to me talk while I drove them around. It was like being some kind of celebrity, except instead of signing autographs, I was taking people where they needed and wanted to go. It was a rush.

As any other Uber driver can tell you, being a partner gives you a certain level of power and responsibility. You can choose to cancel a ride for some poor soul stranded at two in the morning, or you can pick them up, shoot the breeze while listening to Jimmy Buffett, and get them where they need to be. You can get someone to the airport on time or take the long way around. It’s all up to you, and there’s something exhilarating about that kind of control.

Since I started driving for Uber, things have started to turn around for me. I’ve even started training for a speed-walking competition if you can believe it. And yeah, I’m on Plenty Of Fish(pof.com), trying to find myself a new lady. Haven’t had any luck yet, but I’m optimistic. Hell, who knows who I might pick up on my next Uber ride? Maybe it’ll be some shy little thing looking for companionship or a flight attendant with a wild streak. Hell, maybe I’ll even get some rich young thing who tips in nothing but hundreds. Wouldn’t that be nice? The possibilities are endless.

So here’s to you, Uber. You’ve given me another chance, and I’m Uber grateful for it. Now if I could just get these passengers to tip a little more, I’d be all set. But hey, I’m living the dream, one ride at a time.

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