A pick-up at a bar, lets do this. I pull up and three guys get in. At first they talk to each other the first few minutes solid as I approach the destination punched into Uber.
“Ok dude, I’m getting dropped off first since I’m paying for it, then him, then him,” whatever guy it was who said it. One of the two in back. I know it’s the one who isn’t black. The one who was black was catching shit from the kind of brain dead level drunk person riding in front. I personally would have been offended but the dude seemed to take it well. I don’t honestly offend all that easily, but these were just low brow crude racist jokes.
So, the second to last drop off happens, and I’m left with the belligerent-ish dude. I ask, “alright man, where am I going now?” He says head out and turn left. I do that, about 50 feet later the stop light at the main road stops me. I ask “Alright, where am I going?”
I look over, dude’s passed out leaning against the front passenger side door. I ask again a little louder. I bump his shoulder, dead asleep.
So I turn back and text the guy who’s paying for the ride and at that point can’t remember if it was the dude I just dropped off or the first one. So I drive back to where I dropped the second one off to see if he comes back, as I wait for a text.
I ask the passed out guy several questions, trying to see if he wakes back up. Nothing. Plus now he’s starting to snore. No text back yet.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” the guy texts back. I text and ask if he’s the guy I just dropped off or the first one, and he responded first one. Damn. Was kind of hoping the second one. Then he could come back out and wake this dude up and come with or take him out of my car or whatever.
So, the guy texts me an address. I go to that address, a good 10 minutes away. The guy never wakes up. Well, I am sitting in front of where Google says the address is. I get out and walk around, looking at houses, not seeing any that have that house number on it. I look it up on a couple other map sites and they all show the same house which doesn’t have that number on it.
So, I figure fuck it.
I park, roll all my windows down to minimize things he can break if he wakes up swinging, and get out of the car. I walk around to stand behind the middle portion between front and rear passenger windows. I tap his shoulder, trying to wake him up. I push him lightly, then harder, over and over, telling him we’re home.
I continue this and other things like turning on Clipping’s “Get Up.” (the song is made from the sound of an alarm clock. Well done as fuck, actually.)
Finally, five minutes or so later, he gets up. I open the door and help him to his feet. He says thanks and stumbles up a driveway next to the house that had the pin. I ask him a couple times if this is where he lives, and he mumbles incoherently in response. At this point I’m so fucking done with this, I don’t even care if this is his house. I get back in my car, drive a couple blocks away and close out the fare.
I thought for a second if it wasn’t fair I drove a few blocks to get clear from that situation before closing it out – but i didn’t want to chance in any way that dude was going to run back and jump in and say that wasn’t where he lives and black out again. I was actually wondering the whole way there if the friend had given me the address to a police station or something. And honestly, if he had, I would have walked up and told them the situation and let them do whatever they thought was the next step.