Story Time: Two Star Trainwreck

Two stars

I'm rolling in residential SF when I get a ping. It starts off badly with my fare not being on the street for a couple of minutes of double parking, and ends when a woman and man enter the car. Mid-20s, not a lot of clothes on for a lot of person on the female, bearded and dazed look for the guy. Well, let's get to it.

My standard move when someone enters the car is to offer water, mints and cough drops. There is something special that truly dumb people do when this is brought up: they, invariably, take offense at being offered a breath mint. "Are you saying I have bad breath?"

Because it's my rideshare dream not to inspire tips and good behavior from my passengers, but rather to make them feel bad about their oral hygiene. Also, that I've developed this opinion of you, despite you entering the car in the back, and me being in the front. The app tells us when you've got the breath that could knock a buzzard off a poo wagon, and makes sure to filter out all non-equipped drivers. Sure.

Normally I back down from such a conversational gambit, but I'm running on pretty low energy and not loving this person, so instead, I just wait a few seconds and say, "Yes."

Bearded Guy laughs way too loud and way at this, Not Enough Clothes rummages about the dish for a while, and a block later rolls down her window to spit a cough drop out the window.

And we're off!

She asks me if I can play some music -- no genre -- so I just turn up my random iPod a few ticks, because that will allow this Mensa member to have her next 20 minutes in the back of my hatchback to be a private conversation because that's how sound works? They proceed to start sucking face pretty hard, and with each weight shift, it's, well, noticeable. They don't seem to be shedding clothes and they outnumber me, so it's not as if I am going to censor their behavior.

Every few minutes, they come up for air and talk to each other. That's when the ride gets, well, special.

"I'm just so grateful that you are hanging out with me tonight. Especially after the way our first date ended."

Oh, please. GO ON.

A few more minutes of sucking face later, and Beardo says "At least the police took you to Berkeley."

"I know, right? It could have been worse. Dublin, Pleasanton..."

More suck, then. "I just feel bad for putting you at risk." Aww, she's sweet! "I mean, it's a DUI, it's..." and Beardo interrupts with, "These things happen."

Um, Beardo? If you are being driven around by Drunk People, that's not a These Things Happen Thing. That's a These Things Should Not Happen, and You Should Get Your Bearded Ass Out Of There Before It Happens.

But, well, she's pretty much throwing herself at him hard, and it is, after all, Date Number Two. Which I'm thinking is a pretty good chance for something communicable for Our Young Lovers, given all of their wonderful choices to date.

Oh, and the final coup d'grace... they aren't taking a Lyft tonight due to the DUI. They are in the car because... "I think it's actually for the best. What with the engine block dropping out of my car the next day."

I get to the drop point, they leave with a final suspension-shaking heave out of the Honda, and off they go for the rest of their enchanted lives. I also resisted the urge of telling Beardo that for an extra $5, I'd wait outside for the 10 minutes until he was ready to go, and gave them the rating that made sure I'd never see them again. Because, honestly, trainwrecks are kind of fun to look at, but not from that up close...