Dude, That's Uber Scary
I finally feel like I have an opinion about Uber, having taken a few of them when I recently visited the town of Venice Beach, CA, where I like to go whenever my friend Howard flies me out there. My only other Uber ride came in the town of Washington, DC, in March of 2015, where a cab driver doubled as an Uber driver and expertly chauffeured the lads and me to see John Medeski’s then-band (can’t remember its name, but man they were awesome!).
Needing a ride to get out of the uber-packed town of Santa Monica, just north of Venice Beach, Howard called upon an Uber, and unwittingly agreed to put us in an “Uber pool,” which meant we’d be sharing a ride with a fellow named Herman, who looked frightened when I opened his door. The driver, Jesus, calmed Herman’s nerves by informing him that this was a ride share, so lighten up.
Once inside, Jesus drove as fast as he could down Santa Monica’s back streets packed with drunken revelers, whilst staring down at the personal electronic device that was nestled between his thighs in order a) to book more rides, and b) to follow the GPS directions. After a few minutes of this, I declared: “Dude! You gotta get yourself a dock for that phone and stick it right up here on the dashboard.” Jesus chuckled, “Yeah. You’re right.” Then he went back to staring down in the area of his groin.
We survived and learned, during the ride, that Jesus was earning extra money in order to open a bakery, which all of us in the car agreed should be named “Yeast Confection.” Of course, there will be no bakery for Jesus nor baked goods for a few unlucky pedestrians if Jesus doesn’t keep his eyes on the road.