You open the door and you get in my car, well, not my car but my minivan
It's red, like a rose, but it's dark, like blood. So I call her Kennedy,
after the Kennedy assassination.
Kennedy Rose. . . that's her name.
You'll find I'm not a therapist, nor do I claim to be. You'll find that I have freshly washed seat covers and the overwhelming smell of Febreeze that circles throughout.
This isn't for your benefit, it's truly for mine.
You'll find mood lighting because some think that making out in the back of a stranger’s vehicle is
Trust me. I’ve done much more back there then you. . .
You'll find slightly used floor mats and a barely used trash bin, but you'll fail to see the point that this is my vehicle for I
am an Uber driver.
Remember that. Yes, THAT title, because I do not hold another.
Remember that, as you light up your cigarette in the front seat of vehicle that is not your own.
Remember that, as you begin to blast my radio far beyond its recommended limits
Remember that, as you PUKE out my child proof window, as we roll down the street
Remember that, as you finger your girlfriend in front of my rear view.
YES, I saw you.
YES, she faked it.
Remember that, as you slam my door as if it committed an obscene act
Remember that, as you are regaling me with tales of how you cheated on your wife at the local strip club.
Remember that as I dropped you off and you said that it was NOT the first time.
No. I am an Uber Driver. I cannot accept payments in weed or booze.
I accept money and tips
so that I may buy those things myself
I do not mind lending you a gossipy ear, as I will post your business on all social media, but remember as you’re sitting there
offering me a BLOW JOB in exchange for payment,
that your ride was only four dollars, and I charge MUCH more.
I know you feel as though you can share everything, that I am your audience, and you are my speaker. We built this bond,
You and I,
between the airport and Main Street, but remember that I
DO NOT know you. I don’t. I can’t.
You are my rider and, me, I am your driver.
YOUR Uber Driver. Yes, YOUR Uber Driver who plays podcasts in my headset while you speak about your problems. I am yours. . . for a few short minutes, and I guess that’s all you need, for you are my rider, and, me, I am your driver. Your Uber Driver
Please rate me five stars.