Burp

A story from my book: The Best Part of a Blind Date - Life as an Uber Driver.

Like a plane crabbing in a crosswind, he crawled off the porch and stumbled toward my car. And he's a big jumbo jet too, a 747, not a tiny single-engine prop. The woman on the porch seemed satisfied he was gone and didn't wait for him to get in.

"Good morning! How are you," I asked as he struggled to squinch into the back seat.

He couldn't lift his foot over the doorjamb and duck his head while holding his tote. His black felt driver cap fell off into the car.?

After regrouping and what sounded like a mental pep talk, he tossed the bag on the floor, then went head first, sprawling across the back seat. Taking his full weight, my little Toyota Prius sagged.?

"Uber," was his only response.

"Yeah. Um, can I help," I asked, hoping to help the man get in?

He sat up and got his left foot in the car, but the right foot was between the door and the car.

You might be thinking, shouldn't you cancel this ride? Well, you're right. I mean, odds are, something horrible is bound to happen. He could vomit or pass out; a 10-minute Uber could end up costing my day.

On the first attempt, he wasn't able to shut the door. I think his foot was still in the way. Detached from reality, he waves, flicking his fingers at me to go ahead and start driving.

"Can you shut the door," I asked.

He reached over and slammed it shut. There's no turning back now. He's in, and it would take longer to drag him out and fight with the lady and Uber.?

I put the car in drive and get started.

Burrp!!!

What was that??

Turning around to check on him, I was greeted with a waft of his last three meals and what must have been a case of beers. And he blew it right into my face.?

It smelled like poop, like something was dying in the depths of his gut. It smelled so bad that I thought he had a double pipe classic, funk exiting his mouth and butt simultaneously.

Even though it was freezing, I immediately turned around and rolled down my window. We accelerated onto the highway. Sadly, my urgency was halted by construction traffic. And now I couldn't exit for a different route. What was going to be a 10-minute trip across town might now be a 30-minute crawl stuck in traffic.

Peaking in the rearview mirror, I could see he was buzzing hard; he could care less. His eyes were glazed over as he leaned onto the center armrest and cocked his head to gaze out the window. He's almost lying down.

It was at this moment I realized I'd been holding my breath. So naturally, I inhale through my nose--I'm not a mouth breather. My car smelled worse than before! I wanted to throw up!

The car reeks! I can't breathe! This man is producing methane behind me, and there's nothing I can do!

I roll all the windows all the way down. And let's be honest, he's so drunk that he will not notice.?

I tempt fate and take another breath. Gross! I turn the fan to max fresh air and direct the vents at my face.

With my head leaning out the window, creeping in traffic, I held an air freshener to my nose.

What took maybe a half hour felt like an eternity. But we finally made it to our destination.?

Pulling in, I saw a father and son playing in the street. They met us at the curb, and the father saw my head out the window.?

"Hey. How are you," I casually say, as if it's normal for me to drive, hanging out the window with an air freshener under my nose.

"Hey," he acknowledged as if this wasn't his first time seeing a disgruntled Uber arrive. Going to the passenger door to help, "Come on pops, let's get you out."

I smile and nod at the boy. He just stares back, cradling a soccer ball.

The old man turned to get out, put both feet out the door, and leaned back to slide out. At this moment, he noticed the lollipops on the back of the driver's seat. He reached across, fingers not quite making it, desperately grasping at the candy.

We were all saddened, watching the old man struggle, lying down on the seat, straining to get one lollipop. Graciously, if only to speed up the process, I reached around, handed him one, and he scooched out the door.

Doors shut, and I pull away.?

But the street was a dead-end, so I passed by the drunk, the father, and the son one more time. The father waved, and the little boy stared. The drunk was slumped in a plastic chair in the yard, a lollipop in his mouth.

I parked after turning the corner to regroup. I checked the seats for poop and emptied the rest of the air freshener.

Off to my next Uber.