My hands held the steering wheel tight. Sweat poured from my palms. I paused occasionally to wipe them as I waited for the iPhone icon to pop up with the human figure carrying the briefcase. I had fifteen seconds to tap the screen when that figure popped up on the screen. I recall that from training. I nervously flipped my eyes back and forth between the phone screen and the road. My navigation skills were poor at best. I got lost everywhere. My long runs as I prepared for a race, at hotels on vacation, on my bicycle rides. North, South, East and West were foreign to me. The global positioning system (GPS) was my savior. I still worried as I tried to flip my eyes from the phone mounted on the dashboard and the road; waiting anxiously for my first passenger.
The streets of downtown Dallas were new to me. Coupled with my lack of navigation skills, I reflected back on what my motivation was to take on the role of a taxi cab driver. My current income was sufficient. Certainly the projected pay for being a taxi cab driver was not a strong motivator. I confirmed it; boredom.
I had been doing the same job for many years. All work from home. Very little interaction with anyone. It was in the information technology field. Many of the people in this area are bright, interesting, but something was missing. I was an empty nester. I moved several times over the course of the past ten years; most recently from Chicago to Dallas. My wife’s family were very southern. We visited them often but my passions rarely seemed to intersect. They loved to watch sports and hold large gatherings with enough fine southern food to weigh down the most formidable Yankee. I was an introvert. I loved to play sports and stay active. A fitness buff; obsessive with what I ate. I always retreated to playing with the kids when we gathered. It was my comfort zone and kept me active. Yet those interactions, even with all the activities I picked up recently, left a gap.
As I wait for my virgin voyage, I reflected back on signing-up. I recall sitting in my home office staring at my daughter’s newspaper clipping when her softball team won the state championship. The headline for the clipping read “Haynes’ Gapper lifts Greyhounds to Title.” I needed to score a gapper; closing off some of the isolation that weighed on me.
The application process was easy. Upload some documents; driver license, registration, insurance. Take some training then they ship you an iPhone with all the applications loaded to become a driver. A tech savvy company delivering what the .com companies failed to do several years back. It revolutionized taxi service and was taking hold across the US and in Europe where it started. Anyone with a vehicle could convert it to a taxi. Make yourself available anytime you wanted to do it. Minimally do it enough to generate one ride a month. The business model excited me but also the opportunity to get to know the city. Connect with people. Connect with the city.
The screen flickered. I saw it for the first time; the human like figure popped on the screen. The seconds counted down. My heart raced. I had a potential passenger.
The process of waiting for my first passenger reminded me of the first time I went fishing with my brothers. The youngest of seven with three older brothers relegated me to be tag along. They took me down to the creek behind our house. Armed with line and sinker strung from a makeshift pole, they taught me to place my line into the water just right so the bobber floated properly in the water. Fiercely competitive, they lost focus on tag along, and quickly shifted focus to their poles. With the lack of attention, I became bored. My eyes wandered. I missed my first strike. Similarly, as I tried to focus on the phone’s screen and the road while recalling what to do next, I missed my first passenger strike. I swerved slightly, then quickly checked my mirrors to make sure I was still within my lane. I turned right at the nearest opportunity. The figure disappeared from the screen. Out of anger I cried out “dammit”.
One key thing I took away from my experience as tag along fisherman, was to focus on the bobber. I decided to pause and pulled over the car to focus on the bobber. In this case, the phone on my dashboard. I waited about ten minutes, my eyes glued to the phone, strained from not blinking enough, then the figure jumped up on the screen with the seconds counting down. I tapped the screen. I got him. I plugged in the address as adrenaline poured through my veins. I wondered what I had caught. I drove along the street carefully as I mentally ticked off the street addresses wondering exactly where the passenger was given the near-downtown location seemed remote with few apartments or hotels. The GPS sounded off indicating the address was on the left. I decided to call ahead then let the passenger guide me in. His deep voice reverberated through my speakers then I caught a glimpse of him with his hand stretched out waving at me on the other side of the street. I turned into an alleyway to the left of him reducing the distance he had to walk. Both the passengers and the drivers rank each other from one to five stars at the end of the trip; I thought this extra measure would boost my ranking. The grill on the front of my burgundy BMW 328i scrapped the alleyway. I screeched, stopped then the passenger got in. I apologized for not being able to locate him. He quickly responded “I am sorry for your car. Very nice. I use the service in New York and don’t get this nice a ride.” I gathered his destination information then gave him the option of directing me which he took. Wise man, I thought. I asked him what he did in New York as we drove the short distance. He responded in his deep baritone voice “Opera Singer”. I could barely refrain my excitement. I missed my first catch but landed an Opera Singer. A trophy fish on my virgin voyage. Our ride ended. Later, I reflected on the ride. I missed the most obvious question. I should have asked “could you please sing for me?” Maybe next time.
