Dear Penthouse: I Never Thought This Would Happen to Me but today.....
Wednesday, September 13
Uber and I are not talking today. It sent me on a 20-mile incorrect navigation which while it took me past some amazing, double-digit million-dollar homes, it burnt fuel and wasted time. But as a dedicated driver, I called the pickup, explained the problem and told her I would be there,just 20 minutes late. She was fine.
The correct address was in equally spectacular homes in Desert Mountain, a sprawling conclave of five golf courses, captains of industry, widget multi-millionaires and also my friend Mike Silverman.
The guard at the gate was waiting for me and upon entering, it was another five miles to the house. She said she would be outside in the driveway. I pulled up to this sprawling desert-friendly estate.
There in the driveway she stood. Her name was Margarite. Blond locks as radiant as the sun. A smile that screamed "How nice to see you" and lit up the drab desert brush. Stylish jeans hugged to her svelte frame, a top-end handbag in one hand and wearing a smart white blouse, that said: "I take care of myself."
Ok.She was a very very pretty woman, I'd say about 50. And the most appealing thing? She wasn't pissed off I was 20 minutes late. The earlier Uber person didn't even call to cancel when he got lost.early 50's. We Uber drivers have a saying: 'Neither rain, nor sleet, nor gloom of night can stay..." Oh wait.That's the post office.
Anyway, this corn-fed Midwestern gal, but not from Iowa, sauntered into the back seat. People just don't saunter anymore.or mosey.Why is that?
She was visiting and on her way to a lunch appointment. After remarking how beautiful my car was, I asked her: "Are you married?"
Ok. I didn't do that either.
I told her today was my last day driving with Uber since they re-routed me. She thought that was funny and we immediately dove into conversations about life.
Single for a few years and an executive back home, she was talking about life as a 50 year-old. She had done the dating thing but had met someone, who she had known for years and it moved up a notch. One of those things you never plan for.It just has to happen.
She described how she reached a point in her life where you don't think about doing. You DO. Throwing caution and her heart to the wind, she was going with the flow but was in control of that journey. She wasn't waiting for things to fit into place in her somewhat organized life. Organization is great for keeping tax records. Not for where you may find happiness.
After calling me Barry a few times, she started the next sentence with "you know, Bar.."
I told her about my trial lawyer wife, fitness guru, partner, lover, travel mate and soul mate. She was surprised I had six women in my life......
As we approached Jomax and Pima Rd., the site where Erica was killed, I immediately slowed as a car darted out of a side street. That of course led me to reference the obvious.
She was no stranger to loss in her own family and it opened the conversation even further.
She said I had a terrific personality for driving and I made people comfortable and eager to open up and share. I said: "That's what I do."
I told her about my blog and she said: "does that mean you'll write about me?' I said: "yeah but I'll shave 25 years off your age, make you stunning, lie about where you are from and let people think from the title of the blog, that there ARE those Uber stories that people are dying to hear..or at least fantasize about.
As I dropped her off to have lunch with her 'man,' she said: "I know tons of people in Desert Mountain who use Uber. Give me your email and number and I'll suggest you. You were delightful."
I thanked her, gave her my email and said: "Here's my number.If my wife answers, hang up."
Uber and I are not talking today. It sent me on a 20-mile incorrect navigation which while it took me past some amazing, double-digit million-dollar homes, it burnt fuel and wasted time. But as a dedicated driver, I called the pickup, explained the problem and told her I would be there,just 20 minutes late. She was fine.
The correct address was in equally spectacular homes in Desert Mountain, a sprawling conclave of five golf courses, captains of industry, widget multi-millionaires and also my friend Mike Silverman.
The guard at the gate was waiting for me and upon entering, it was another five miles to the house. She said she would be outside in the driveway. I pulled up to this sprawling desert-friendly estate.
There in the driveway she stood. Her name was Margarite. Blond locks as radiant as the sun. A smile that screamed "How nice to see you" and lit up the drab desert brush. Stylish jeans hugged to her svelte frame, a top-end handbag in one hand and wearing a smart white blouse, that said: "I take care of myself."
Ok.She was a very very pretty woman, I'd say about 50. And the most appealing thing? She wasn't pissed off I was 20 minutes late. The earlier Uber person didn't even call to cancel when he got lost.early 50's. We Uber drivers have a saying: 'Neither rain, nor sleet, nor gloom of night can stay..." Oh wait.That's the post office.
Anyway, this corn-fed Midwestern gal, but not from Iowa, sauntered into the back seat. People just don't saunter anymore.or mosey.Why is that?
She was visiting and on her way to a lunch appointment. After remarking how beautiful my car was, I asked her: "Are you married?"
Ok. I didn't do that either.
I told her today was my last day driving with Uber since they re-routed me. She thought that was funny and we immediately dove into conversations about life.
Single for a few years and an executive back home, she was talking about life as a 50 year-old. She had done the dating thing but had met someone, who she had known for years and it moved up a notch. One of those things you never plan for.It just has to happen.
She described how she reached a point in her life where you don't think about doing. You DO. Throwing caution and her heart to the wind, she was going with the flow but was in control of that journey. She wasn't waiting for things to fit into place in her somewhat organized life. Organization is great for keeping tax records. Not for where you may find happiness.
After calling me Barry a few times, she started the next sentence with "you know, Bar.."
I told her about my trial lawyer wife, fitness guru, partner, lover, travel mate and soul mate. She was surprised I had six women in my life......
As we approached Jomax and Pima Rd., the site where Erica was killed, I immediately slowed as a car darted out of a side street. That of course led me to reference the obvious.
She was no stranger to loss in her own family and it opened the conversation even further.
She said I had a terrific personality for driving and I made people comfortable and eager to open up and share. I said: "That's what I do."
I told her about my blog and she said: "does that mean you'll write about me?' I said: "yeah but I'll shave 25 years off your age, make you stunning, lie about where you are from and let people think from the title of the blog, that there ARE those Uber stories that people are dying to hear..or at least fantasize about.
As I dropped her off to have lunch with her 'man,' she said: "I know tons of people in Desert Mountain who use Uber. Give me your email and number and I'll suggest you. You were delightful."
I thanked her, gave her my email and said: "Here's my number.If my wife answers, hang up."
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