The Commotion

One thing to keep in mind when driving rideshare is that anyone can get in your car. Adolescents and geriatrics. Browns and pinks. Straight-ups and the crooked. I could go on but you get the idea.

I had been waiting for a few types of passengers after hearing tales from other drivers. Some of them violently strange. Some vaguely disrespectful. And some just outright pleasant.

While most are uneventful, I've had enough good fortune to pick up quite a few pleasant people. That meant time was running out. Something weird or bad was gonna happen.

I suppose I should tell you that I've never had to contact the police. So that leaves....this guy.

It was another mediocre day. I had just dropped off a couple at Kerry Park on the south side of Queen Anne hill. My next ride was 3 blocks away in the direction of Queen Anne avenue. The weather was unusually sunny and unsually windy.

When I arrived at the pick up spot, I spotted a tall, lanky man with flat gray hair that sprouted around his head and strands of hair flattened across the top as if he just wiped the sweat off with vigor. He wore a dark blue track suit with no apparent branding and the thickest, whitest New Balance sneakers you can buy this side of Thailand. Since he didn't have a picture listed on his profile, I guessed he was the correct passenger by the large duffle bag in one hand and a curious green rod in the other. According to the app, his name is Charles. 

When I pulled up, I popped the trunk and got out. I said hello but he said nothing and got in the right hand backseat and hefted his bag and rod onto his lap. As he moved, I heard a distinct cluster of clanking noises. The more he moved, the more clanking I heard. Miffed, I closed the trunk and sat back in the driver's seat. I glanced at him in the mirror and asked him how his day was going and he said nothing again. I dismissed it as him being on a conference call but I couldn't tell if he had an AirPod in or not.

I mentally shrugged and looked at the itinerary. Charles' destination was the airport and, a-ha, this was a shared ride.

For those that don't know, a shared ride is when another passenger can hitch a ride in the same direction as the original ride. While it saves a few bucks off your ride cost, it normally takes longer.

As soon as I put the transmission into Drive, the app notified me that Rachel would also be joining us! She was only 5 blocks away and I hoped she would be headed to the airport also.

Rachel had a picture on her profile. It was easy to spot her. A small, black woman with black rimmed glasses and large ear piercings. She wore a black hoodie and jean shorts. Her hair was braided tightly and pulled back. Rachel had one hard case carry on bag with her and nothing else. She was ready, headed to the airport, and I appreciated that.

I pulled up to the curb and popped the trunk again. I doubted that she would want to keep the carry on with her in the seat like Charles. I opened the door to get out but so did Charles. I thought he might have changed his mind about his duffle bag. Instead, as I greeted Rachel and reached for her bag, Charles unfolded out of the backseat brought his green rod. He also brought the pot metal clanking sound with him. He held out the rod and twisted it. It extended to about 5 feet and he grabbed the black rubber stops on each end and lifted it behind his extended neck onto his shoulders. And he stooped over and started stretching with it. Each movement produced a rude amount of noise. Rachel and I paused and watched with concern. I slid the bag in and went to close the trunk lid when Rachel moved toward the left backseat. I told her it was okay to sit in the front if she wanted. She hesitated, declined, and opened the door. When I closed the trunk, Charles stood up with his top hair flapping around and collapsed the rod back down to 2 feet and sat back down. An odd commotion emanating from his self the whole time.

As we continued our trek, I asked how everyone was doing. Rachel replied minimally and put her headphones on. Charles didn't even look up let alone say anything. He was focused on a book about infant child care. INFANT. CHILD. CARE. Rachel side-eyed that book as much as I did.

Halfway through the trip, Charles starts to get restless. He has put away the book and has started shifting in his seat. Every shift incites a metal riot. I check the door locks. In case. At this point, I am incredibly curious about what hell is happening. Turns out he can take a hint. With his bag on his lap, he unzips his track jacket and shimmies out of it. The rattling has been promoted to a crashing sound.

And there they we're...in all their Made In China glory. Not 2 not 3, but 9; rack 'em up, by God and country! 9 medals hanging from his neck! Gold and silver! Each seemingly bigger than the last! While Charles heard an angels choir when they were unveiled, I heard the Price is Right WAH wah waaaahhh loser's horn.

For the next 5 minutes, Charles stayed busy by:
1. Taking off track jacket
2. Putting track jacket in duffle bag
3. Taking off medals
4. Putting medals in duffle bag. Praise the Lord
5. Putting medals back on. Goddammit
6. And finally, donning said track jacket

Meanwhile, Rachel watched him like a patient mother the entire time.

Charles took one more reach into his bag, thought better of it and closed it. The infant child care book was spared. For now.

As we approached the airport, Charles tried something new. He leaned over and said something to Rachel. Rachel pulled her headphones aside and he repeated himself. She nodded and he informed her of something else. She nodded again. I watched to see if there were any indications of alarm in her actions. Everything he said was inaudible to me. Charles just did not want to interact with me.

Charles was first to be dropped off since he was flying Alaskan Airlines. I stopped at the designated spot and he shuffled out in a hurry. Just a flurry of arms, nylon, and pleather. The commotion was nerve-wracking. I wished him a "Have a good fli-" as he slammed the door shut.

Next up, Rachel was flying out on Delta. As we stopped and got out, I asked her if Charles was being a creep. She said no. I asked if she knew what the medals were for.

He's a champion ballroom dancer.

And he wanted everyone to know.

We laughed nervously through clenched teeth and I set her bag on the ground. We wished each other a good day and I headed back to the city center.

On the silent way back, I thought about how long it was gonna take him to get through TSA.

I looked for him in the news. He wasn't there.

An Unfortunate Argument For Marriage

I couldn't tell you much about what the day was like leading up to the unfortunate couple. I could tell you that I was working rideshare in Seattle's Beacon Hill district. I suppose I could tell you about the weather. That it was partly cloudy or partly sunny. That it was February but also possibly March. That I had given 10 rides to 10 passengers before 10 AM.

It could have been 5 rides to 17 passengers on a snowy Thanksgiving Day. None of that mattered after I met the unfortunate couple.

I received a notification on my phone that someone requested a ride and I headed there hastily. The pick up location was a shabby, single level house that sat on a slope lower than the street. The front yard had been overrun by foliage in what could have been a scandalous coup. I waited there in my Nissan Sentra for a couple minutes until my unfortunate passengers appeared.

They were an older couple, possibly in their early 60s. The man looked like Archie Bunker with even higher blood pressure and a proud penchant for Jeopardy trivia. She looked like Edith if she had divorced Archie and became a small time fashion designer. No less than three handmade looking lockets orbited her exposed neck.

Archie was all smiles and used his outdoor voice inside the car to let me know they were on their way to church. The car leaned when Archie sat down.  Edith got in the car, put on her seat belt and said nothing until we were on our way.

I couldn't tell you about the music that played during this unfortunate trip. Their whole conversation was loud enough for me to remember the details. There was no lead in or introduction. Nor was there context or clues. Archie wanted to continue their conversation post haste. 

"Why shouldn't we get married?!", Archie implored so suddenly I thought he was addressing me. I looked in the mirror at him and he was looking at Edith. He was twisted toward her and beamed at her. I glanced at her. She was not taken aback. She was not flustered nor flabbergasted. Or even a little distraught.

She looked at him and calmly asked, "Why should we get married, Archie? We haven't even known each other that long. It hasn't even been a year. And this is my first time to Seattle"

Archie's excitement falters but his energy slogs on.

"I don't think it matters! Almost a year...almost a month... almost a day. It doesn't matter to me. I think we should get married!", he pushes. 

I purposely slow down and drive with wide eyes so I can hear this radio serial episode play out. I was ready for anything. Especially if one of them performed the ol' Tuck and Roll. I hear it's an option nowadays.

"Archie, we still don't know each other that well and I think it should take more than a year to be sure if you want to marry someone. Really, let's go down the list of reasons you want to marry me so soon.", Edith instructed.

"Edith, I wanna marry you because I LOVE YOU. And that's aalllll the reason I need." Archie claimed. I legitimately thought he was going to start singing.

"Archie, keep your voice down; the young man can hear us.", she says dryly.

And now I'm biting my lip to hold off the anxious giggles. I look in the rear view mirror and see that Archie isn't smiling anymore. In fact, he looks more flushed than he did before. 

"Please, I really wanna do this with you. I'll make sure you don't regret it." Archie says intently. I can hear in his voice that he knows this isn't gonna go his way. 

Archie has begun to lose his battle. Edith swats down every plea that Archie offers. Every time he gets an unfortunate word in, his volume dips and Edith's stays level.

I wish I could tell you when the car went silent except for barely audible radio playing something not worth listening to. My mind was reeling from listening along while navigating to the unassuming church.

Edith finally says: "Archie, do you understand?"

I glance again into the mirror and his posture is straight but he is gazing out into the passing city. I doubt he is actually seeing anything that is worth more than she is to him. He turns his head forward and locks eyes with me in the rear view and asks loudly: "And how are you today sir?! Are you from Seattle? Have you lived here long? ISNT IT A BEAUTIFUL DAY?!" 

Archie is grinning again.

I answer all 3 of his questions. Edith has lowered her voice and halfheartedly vying for his attention. After a bit, she stops and looks out of the window.

She was not taken aback. She was not flustered nor flabbergasted. Or even a little distraught.

Archie asked questions the rest of the way and I answered them to the best of my ability. When we finally arrived at the church, he happily yelled: 

"THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE RIDE JOHNNY BOY! HERE'S A LITTLE SOMETHING FOR YA."

He hands me a dollar and attempts to exit the vehicle. Behind his booming voice I heard Edith thank me softly and close the door. I watched them walk inside the church and drove off.

I wish I could tell you that they worked things out. I wish I could tell you that Archie learned to control his desperate tantrums. I wish I could tell you that they fell in love subsequently. I wish I could tell you that they got married right there in that church. But I can't. The unfortunate argument was surreal enough to make me realize that this happens more often than I think it does. The poor, unfortunate couple.

They were all I thought about for the rest of the day.