"Oober" Day One and the case of the small blatter

Been at least three years since driving "you" around.  Today was my first day as the "Oober Guy".  I was asked twice; " You the oober guy?"  I hadn't even answered before one dude entered my car.  If I was not the oober guy, it would have been unsettling.

My first fare?  Well, I don't think they are called fares, but I will figure out what they are called.  There must be a hipster name for one.   I think Oober is boring by referring to them as customers.  My first pick-up was Vernaise (below) from the Tri-Taylor neighborhood of Chicago.  She is also an Oober driver, so I learned some stuff during our 40 minute congested ride from hell to go 7 miles.  I can blame the Crosstown Classic between the White Sox and the Cubs at at Wigley Field for our traffic woes.

 

 My first pick up ever!

My favorite ride was another traffic nightmare.  I took the fine ladies below to Northerly Island's traffic hell to see Jill Scott, Babyface, Ledisi and Avery Sunshine.  The 40 minute, 2 mile trip made me the only guy with a Kenny Chesney ticket stub anywhere near the concert venue.  But we listened to some Avery through my bluetooth and survived the traffic.  Well I sort of survived.  I needed a urinal since they entered the car.  Not far from the Adler Planetarium was some landscaping with some "tall grasses".  Sadly, the grasses were not quite as tall as me.  Other than the Chicago Police Officer yelling at me to zip it up and move my car, I guess I got away with my relief efforts.

Lastly and most disturbing was the hipster couple that would not even say hello to me.  I am over it.  But their conversation was entertainment enough.  Both had just woken up ( at 4PM ) from a night of drinking until 4AM followed by some marijuana cigarette smoking to kill time til' 5AM.  She was either bragging or concerned about her two male friends "feeling her up" as she fell asleep.  Yes, it is true.  I am not allowed to make stuff up.  So smoke that and compare it to YOUR Friday night.