Let’s continue down the rabbit hole that was my five months of being a Lyft Driver, though out my 667 rides I saw many things and experienced a lot of different types of passengers. One of the questions I get asked do you have any good drunk stories? And like any Ride-share or Taxi driver I do.
It Is An Expectation
When I drove for Lyft it was in the evening after a full day at work, I narrowed down my driving time to Thursday, Friday and Saturday prime time for bar-hoppers, and those folk looking to unwind. It was an expectation that I would pick up those who had a little more of the sauce or those on the way to getting drunk. Mostly I got those who were still sober enough to use that app and request a ride… Well, mostly…
As ever, names and destinations are changed to protect the innocent from merciless ribbing.
The Flower Pot Man
Now, up to the point I picked up the flower-pot man, who we shall called Dave from this point forward, I had experienced a few drunk riders all of them more concerned about holding in the sauce than really do anything other than sit quietly in the back.
Dave was a little different, and the reason he sticks in my mind is he was my first real dead drunk rider, how he managed to use the app I have no idea. I suspect the barkeeper did it just to get him out of the bar. I picked up Dave from a bar in Fells Point and it was a short ride into the Canton area. I will give Dave his due, he managed to stand and comprehend enough to do the Lyft security check and got into the back of my RAV, after the fifth time of swinging himself in.
With destination settled off we went, I got a couple of love your accent man, and I tried my normal small talk patter of how was your evening, did you have fun, great weather, etc… With no reply forthcoming I fell silent, which is perfectly normal, as some passengers just don’t talk. Then a minute later and less than two minutes into the ride I get an ear-splitting snort, which turned into the loudest snore I have ever heard in my life.
Dave continued to saw logs all the way to his destination, now up to this point I have had two riders who have fell asleep in the back of my car. Both times though they woke up just as I pulled up at their destination. Dave though was going to be a might more difficult than that.
I pull up, it was a nice brick row home, high steps to a small porch with a large flower-pot, about planter size, with sometime of shrubbery in it on one side of the door. Dave is gone, snoring blissfully away behind me, with a growing line of drool from his mouth to the backseat upholstery. I was about to face the unknown horror of the unconscious rider, do you touch? Do you roll them out the car? What do you really do in this situation?
I turn around in my seat, and in a loud clear voice, “Excuse me Sir, we are here.”
“Sir,” a little firmer this time, “We are at your house.”
“Sir!” putting on my kids much feared Father is warning you voice, “Wake up, we are here.”
Slight murmur, something about five more minutes mom, leave me alone and an unintelligible girls name. At least at this point he was stirring.
“Sir!, time to wake up you are home!” Full on Father is about to ground you voice now engaged.
This does the trick and the Dave wakes up in that special drunk way, eyes open like they are window blinds, that thousand yard disoriented stare and that start you always get, “Wha.. What… cool.’
“Sir, you are home, thank you for taking a Lyft with me.” I say giving it the full get out of my car now emphasis I could in my now terrible polite tone.
Dave fumbles for the door latch, manages to catch it and opens the door, while almost falling out in the same motion. Somehow he gathers his legs under him and in an astounding feat of coordination gets to the top of the stairs. Now Dave had left my car, I went about the business of finishing the ride and just before I pressed the confirm ride end button, I see him sway back and forth on his porch. I could clearly see him in his porch light trying to get his key into the lock. One attempt… Two attempts… Three attempts… Fourth, a hear a clunk and look up to see Dave fall headfirst into his door and slide down in what I have to say was on the best cartoon face-plant style slides ever.
Concerned Dave had hurt himself, I start to get out of my car, when he moves again rolling onto his side and hugs the flower-pot. At this point I judged he has done this many times before and the drunken molestation of this now poor piece of shrubbery wasn’t really my issue. I conclude my Lyft duty done and left Dave to the tender care of his long-suffering house plant. As far as I know they might still be there, man and reluctant plant.
Until next time, treat your driver right 🙂