Uber Etiquette

 

Uber Etiquette

“Why Don’t You Come Over! Why Don’t You Come Over? Why Don’t You Come Over! And Pick Me Up? I’m Bored At Home! I’ve Nothing Much To Do! I Wish I Had A Cool Car Of My Own!” 

Pick Me Up, Twirl, Punk Love 2012

Like many of life’s pursuits, riding an Uber is a process. 

For six years, I’ve found a way to live in Sugar Land without a car. When my vehicle got totaled in 2019, I decided to try something different. Luckily, I landed at a centralized spot where 80% of what I needed was a bike’s ride away. The other 20% is fulfilled by an understanding son, and Uber. 

I bought a new bicycle at Dicks Sporting Goods on Southwest Freeway. And I learned “Ubers,” specifically how to manage my travel needs and expectations.

Erik Mclean via Pexels

The first thing I notice in an Uber trip is “driver presence.” Where are they looking before I even open the car door? How are they preparing to receive me? Do they seem approachable? 

Today, I had a weird one. I don’t like drivers who fail to say hello when you get in, or bury their honkers in their personal cell phones for a few minutes before taking it out of park. Having an Uber driver who is constantly on the phone is like having a waiter who greets your table while eating a loaf of bread.

“Yeah.. Hi!” I sarcastically belt out, assuming the seat directly behind him.  Sometimes I act like a jerk. I don’t know why. 

“Yes. Hello”. 

Ivan. He has a Russian accent.

Uber etiquette is an interesting study. And so are the people who convey it. A year and a half ago, I met Origin. That was his name, the one he went by. Origin was originally from Nigeria.

You see, I like to know who these drivers are. If they don’t want to talk, I’m good. But I like to see at least an effort. Ivan today failed miserably. 

Origin though, fascinated me. He was 65, loud and proud. He’d arrived on our shores when Ronald Reagan was sharing vodka with Gorbachev, and Nancy was telling kids to say “no”. His car was spotless. 

A few months later, I met Wallace, a 24-year-old professional football player. He was all of 5’10, but solid. He carried a swagger and sensibility that the truly focused among us naturally have. He was a great conversationalist. He’d made the Cowboys practice squad two years earlier, and was working to make the full squad.  Wallace was staying with his brother in Sugar Land to train and make some extra scratch.

But Lisa was among the most expressive of all the Uber drivers I’ve known. She was an odd combination of unfortunate events and ballsy comebacks. Lisa was a genuinely happy, giggly, tattooed woman, wrapped in salt-of-the-earth cellophane. She’d moved to nearby Richmond with a helluva romance story. As we drove along Highway 59 North, she told me how she and her man had broken up long ago but reunited 17 years later. They’re now happily married with two kids. I wanted to know more, but it was a short trip. 

Reddit has endless stories from people claiming to be Uber witnesses. One driver said it was crazy how many people put their young children in Ubers for a lonely morning ride to school. 

Another had to help carry a wasted passenger into his home after the guy passed out.  Thankfully the drunkard’s friend was there to help. Yet another claimed to have picked up three Rastafarians at a construction site and pruned a $30 tip by blasting reggae on the radio. 

Etiquette? Car cleanliness and free water bottles do not alone determine etiquette.  The best uber experiences start and stop with personality in my book. These people usually deal in valuable conversational currency, and I love listening to them because I’m retired and I have the time.

Uber vehicles may just be taxis with nicer paint jobs, a reflection of new “retail” transit. But it’s the people looking back at us who really drive the engine.