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Dillon stood on the sidewalk smoking a joint while looking at his Uber app. The driver, Darian, was completing a ride nearby, so there was enough time to finish the joint before he arrived. Dillion shifted his backpack to the other shoulder and carried on smoking.
The red 2007 Honda CR-V arrived just as Dillon finished his joint, right on time. The driver arrived on the opposite side of the street and stopped about 50 feet away from Dillon. This was typical. However, most drivers would U-Turn and come closer. Darian just parked further up the sidewalk waiting for Dillon to walk over.
Dillon tossed the cardboard filter on the sidewalk and walked over to the backseat across from the driver’s seat.
“Dillon?” Darian asked in a voice that sounded like one sustained cough.
“Yeah,” Dillon replied, tossed his bag in, and climbed in.
Darian, an older man, began driving off before Dillon was entirely in the car, causing Dillon to pull the door shut. As he went to pull the seatbelt over him, Dillon saw that it got caught in the door.
“I have to open the door. The seatbelt got caught.” Dillon said, hoping to slow the car down a little bit.
“Ah,” Darian hacked through a throat of mucus.
“That seatbelt doesn’t work anyway. It’ll be alright. You can scoot over to the seat behind me if you feel worried.”
Dillon looked at the other seats and couldn’t believe the seatbelts would work for them, so he stayed put.
Darian sped through lights and dips in the street without caring for his suspension or passenger. Dillon studied the old man from the backseat.
He was an old white man with some European accent that Dillon couldn’t place. There were different pictures of children and one of Christ, all covering the speedometer and essential information.
“So, you from Denver?” Dillon asked.
“I’ve been here for the last 60 years. So, more from Denver than you’d be anytime soon.”
Dillon chuckled at the response. Darian continued weaving through the highway traffic.
“Got any plans for the weekend?”
“Yeah, gonna celebrate my 83rd birthday if I live long enough.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“Sunday.”
“Ok, well, you’ve got a couple of days to go.”
Darian laughed and coughed really hard at this, and Dillon wasn’t sure why.
The car zipped through traffic, with Darian coughing and local radio playing the hottest hits. Dillon checked the Uber app to see how far they had to go and thanked god that there were only a few minutes left.
The car finally got off the highway, but Darian only slowed down a little. Approaching a red light, Darian squeezed the brakes, and Dillon shifted forward to the seat in front of him.
“Do you usually do pickups during the day or at night?” Dillon asked.
“Ah, hell no! Too much crazy shit happens at night. I don’t- “
WHAM!
Dillon jolted forward and smacked his face into the front seat. He turned around to see another car had rear-ended them.
“What the fuck!”
Darian got out of the car and charged the other driver, yelling through his throat of mucus. Dillon got out, not sure what to do.
The other driver hung his head in shame and let Darian scream his heart out. He got out of his car and tried to explain himself in broken English.
Dillon looked at the map on his phone. The destination was too far to walk and get there in enough time. He decided to call her.
“Hey, Marla.”
“Hey Dillon, what’s up? I’m here at the bar.”
“Yeah, my Uber just got in an accident. I won’t be able to make it by 3:30.”
“Dillon… you know… it’s fine, Dillon. Just don’t call me again.”
“No, I…” Dillon protested, rubbing his tweaked neck.
“No, Dillon. If you are always gonna play games, you can play with someone else, not with me.” And she hung up