The Good, the Bad, and the Drunk: Part 1

The first thing my sister said when I told her I was going to be driving full time was, "Really? What about all the drunk people? Do you want drunk people throwing up in your car?" I laughed and assured her that I would be driving the morning commute and wouldn't have to deal with that. But really I hadn't given it much thought. Little did I know, driving those late night riders around would give me a fresh perspective and a new purpose.

For those of you who don't know me well on a personal basis, alcohol isn't my thing. I personally have never understood the idea of drinking something that makes you act crazy, throw up, and feel terrible the next day. In fact, this whole idea of going to bars and drinking with friends is completely foreign to me. As in: I have never done it. I guess that's why I am now the public's designated driver.

So does that mean people throw up in my car? Almost. One night on my way home for the night I got a final request to take a guy home. I was tired and somewhat impatient because I really had my heart set on going to bed. His friend requested me and then let me know he was super drunk and needed a ride because he couldn't drive. He handed him his stuff and said something about not peeing his pants. IS THAT A THING?! He did all but tuck the guy in my back seat and off we went. He only lived a mile away and so I wondered why this "friend" couldn't let him puke in his own car? Or was that why I was there? Oh yeah.

This guy is in my back seat and within the first block he belches and I say really loudly, "PLEASE, just don't throw up in my car." This rider was really a sweet and respectful younger guy and he said, "Yes, mam. I will try hard not to." We got a couple blocks down and he belched some more. When we were approaching the final turn for his house he yelled, "Mam! Open the door please and let me out! I'm gonna throw up! I'll walk the rest of the way."

I don't know if you've ridden in a minivan made within the last decade, but the doors don't just swing open like the good ol' days. I drove my two-day-old tires up on that sidewalk and straddled the corner. Then I pushed the button (which only works if the car is stopped, hence the straddling). Then "jrooooooooooooom." [I used lowercase because it was very uneventful and anticlimactic] The doors opened in slow motion. It was the longest ten seconds of my life. Then I yelled "GO! GO! GO!" like we were in the military. He thanked me, I thanked him, and told him to get well soon. Because what do you say to drunk people?  It looks like the flu to me. He stumbled home in the dark.

That was the extent of my experience until St. Patrick's Day weekend. Saturday I decided to drive locally and it didn't even cross my mind that people would be celebrating the night before. By about 8:00 PM my driving apps were off the hook. The requests were constant and many of them were large groups needing my large car, which meant I made large money. At the beginning of every group ride, riders would spend the first five minutes roasting my minivan. That's okay. When they realized I have fruit snacks and granola bars for them like a mom, they give me mad respect. Mom's are cool. We have snacks.

Every time I drive, even on the scary nights and the partying nights, I feel that I learn more about life. I always gain something; emotionally, intellectually, or spiritually. Sometimes I get a good laugh and sometimes I get some wisdom. One of the first groups I got was a mom, named Michelle, and her two daughters. They were celebrating her birthday. I am not sure how, but Michelle managed to inspire me in the ten minutes I drove her across town. She reminded me not to sweat the small stuff in life, then she clarified that most everything is small stuff. She reminded me that I drive every day not just to take people places but to connect with humanity. I guess you could say she was my night's moment of clarity. I liked Michelle.

As the night went on, the level of sobriety took a steep decline. My most entertaining ride was a group of seven older-than-me adults leaving an event, and going to another bar. They were so incredibly kind. We stopped at one of their houses to drop off some stuff they won from an auction (I think). Five of them got out, all confused. They emptied the trunk and then let their dog out.

Right when we made it to our destination I looked in my rear view mirror and one of the ladies in the far back had what I am assuming was a wine bottle. My mind raced, "Is that illegal? I'm pretty sure it is. I am going to get arrested. There's no way she would do that. It has to be empty. Yes, its empty, she's saving it for a Pinterest project..." And then my mind went to, "Get them out of my car. Get them out of my car NOW." They got out and I never saw that bottle again, just the one-second glimpse in the dark. Maybe it was my imagination. It definitely wasn't anything that was my fault. Aside from the bottle, they were people I felt like I could be friends with. They tipped me very well for my patience.

I took a few more rides after that and headed home around midnight. I made pretty good money and a small amount of time which meant I could spend more time with my family. Now I just had one more night of St. Patrick's Day weekend to go.

This weekend was too much excitement to fit into one blog post. Check out DrivingMom.com next week for the hilarious and inspiring conclusion of this adventure!