Wednesday, May 15, 2013

WEDNESDAY RANT-I'M NOT A CHAUFFEUR DAMN IT!


A buddy sent me this link on Facebook yesterday morning; compliments of one of the fine local stations here in Chicago:

“Producer Gabe doesn't have a car and feels real weird asking for rides...J Niice thinks he wouldn't have this problem if he would just offer up some MONEY!! Do you give someone a ride all the time?? Do they give you money?!?! Let us know!!”

I knew why immediately and chuckled to myself but then I started thinking…

Within a minute, I had gone from a happy-go-lucky WST smile to gnashing my teeth for no damn reason.

Well there was a reason; I had started to think about all the times I’ve given rides and it pissed me off...

I got my license four months after I turned 16.  Would have been sooner but there was that thing with the party, and being grounded, and you know what? Forget I mentioned it.

Anyway, had my license and first car a bit before most of my other friends and I’m going to sound like a spoiled bitch, but I rarely ever take public transportation and would rather scratch the roof of my mouth on a toasted sandwich from Quizno’s than do so. 

I prefer to be the master of my own fate when it comes to getting from point A to point B.  It’s in the blood...

My folks love driving: Before my day, pops used to take mom to visit her family in Belize by driving all the way from Chicago to Texas, then through Mexico into fucking CENTRAL AMERICA.

Cool shit right? I think so too.  Pretty sure that was back when you could be American and drive all the way through Mexico without ending up on a Milk carton or a CNN “Special Report.”

 Once me and baby sister did come along, they’d take us road-tripping to Florida during spring-break, so the whole sitting in a car for hours thing never bothered me.

As a result, I love driving.

I loved driving around town with my friends in high school. I loved driving across Iowa to college in 7 hours when it should have taken 8, and I never mind loading the car with a few of my friends and seeking adventure on the weekend.

However, my pet peeve is getting behind the wheel when it inconveniences me…

Translated that means:

Bad weather, because everyone else drives like shit.

When I’m relaxing, you know: sleeping, eating, or posted up with the game or 80’s flick on.

I’m out being social: at a party, bar, club, talking to a potential wife…well girlfrien…well, a girl who wants to grab a bite, a drink and maybe some pinball on a later date.

When I’m strapped for time, appointment, dinner, etc.

And of course when I’m low on petrol and not near a gas station with a decent price to fill my vehicle ($85 bones in the city, $75 in the burbs). 

Someone calling me for a damn ride when I was saving the very last of that gas to head somewhere in specific BEFORE filling up is the WORST.

But sometimes, duty calls and you have to take one for the team, especially if you owe a favor.

I have no issue with giving my friends a lift once or twice every few months. Maybe if it’s a really long trip, I’ll ask for a couple of bucks.  In fact, I don’t even need to ask.

 If you and I are going the same way, it is never a problem. 

If it’s an emergency, I got your back, no questions asked.

The problem is the one or two friends (that everyone has) who seem to have a damn emergency.

Worst “emergency” came from this one bro I know who tells me I HAVE to take him back to the Suburbs because he was trying to get laid… 

 I dropped his ass off at the closest train line and wished him luck.

Then there are the ones who call you when it’s the most inconvenient.

Another incident; a friend calls for a lift and ruins my hangover sleep because he was stranded on the other side of town at some chick's place and left his wallet at the bar after separating from the crew the night before and wants to bribe me with Popeye’s if I could swing him by the bar for the wallet.

 And you know what I said? “OK.”

 I did it because he was a friend, but mainly because I was fat (ter) and enjoy free Popeye’s (who doesn’t?).

Got right back home and threw it all up, looking back, I obviously shouldn’t have even answered the phone…

And I didn’t when the little son of a bitch tried to run the same game two weekends later.

Finally, there's the guys who never contribute any gas money…

The five bucks for gas-money thing doesn’t go as far as it used to these days.  If you’re a passenger and a friend is going out of their way to give you a ride somewhere two or more times in a two week span, we are talking at least $10 to start out…

I don't get how it's done, but somewhere along the lines, there are people that have developed the idea in their heads that you have nothing better going on and are at their disposal.

Those are the people who drive me crazy, grit my teeth as I was yesterday morning, and frankly, make me want to grow out my hair just so I can pull it out.

And you know what? It’s my fault.  Had I said fuck off from Jump Street, I wouldn’t have this problem.

It's alright though, first step is admitting it, second step is identifying it, and third is learning how to correct it.

When being a “Designated Dan” is your bigger problem, you can just say fuck the other 9 steps.

-WST 

No comments:

Post a Comment