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So, if you are a friend of mine on Facebook, you know I am a huge fan of the New York Jets.   This is, without a doubt the longest relationship I’ve had in my life!  I won’t pretend to be able to say whether other teams fans are as loyal or fanatic as our loyal fan base, but I figured I’d take a few minutes to tell you my Jets story.  I’m sure some of you will relate.

So, sometime before the Jets won the Super Bowl, I was your average dopey 7 yr old kid in the suburbs of NJ.  I knew of football, but didn’t get it.   My older brother was Giants fan.  My dad didn’t give a damn.  My mom longed to move back to Germany.   So, I was pretty close to my older sister.  As my mom worked nights at a bomb making factory in NJ, my sister became the main caregiver for myself and my older  brother.    One day, I saw in her room a large B/W picture of a football player wearing #12.

For whatever reason I was drawn to that picture.  He looked young.  he looked like he was someone who warranted being on a poster.  Stoic as he was ready to throw the bal.  I new precious little about football, but it made sense to me. I determined at that point that his team, would become my team.  I was now and forever a Jets fan.

The next couple years were a blur. The Jets won the Super Bowl, which was something I barely understood at the time.  Fast forward to the early 70’s.   The Jets were putrid.  Often they were not on local tv due to blackout rules.  So, I was relegated to listening to the games on the radio.  At the time Marty Glickman was the play by play guy.  He painted a verbal picture.  (started a long friendship with radio).   Truly having no real football knowledge, I thought that the mighty Joe Namath could always bring us back.  42-0 in the 4th qtr with 3 minutes left, I always believed that Broadway Joe would save the day.  Of course you are old enough to remember the Jets of the 70’s, you know that didn’t happen.

Fast forward a bit, the Jets were horrid for awhile. We lost Namath in the mid 70’s so maybe he’d have a chance to win somewhere else.  He was a shell.  I remember him limping on to the field with the Rams on a Monday Night game.  I was older now, but still thought that somehow, Joe Namath could pull it out. If you are old enough to remember, you know how it ended. An injury.  No lie, football was never the same for me since he left the field for the last time.

So, now the Jets are in the Meadowlands.  Sharing a stadium with the Giants.  Yeah, it was called Giants stadium, but they paid rent the same as the Jets did.  We had some success in the early 80’s.  Walt Michaels was the coach.   He was a bit nuts and became unnerved when Al Davis pulled some shenanigans in Oakland the night before a game there.  Coaches came and went.  I remember vividly in 1986, my mother was very ill from cancer.  She was in the hospital for surgery.  I went and watched the Jets vs Dolphins game, where we won in overtime 52-45.  Wesley Walker and Ken O’Brien lit it up all day and defense was nowhere to be found.  One of the last memorable moments I spent with my mom as she passed away a few months later.  I’ll remember it always.  We smiled together.

So, I finally had a decent job come the late 80’s.  The Giants had a waiting list that was something like 15,000 years.   The Jets list was only 3.   I signed up and got on that list.  I was alerted that seats were available for the 1991 season.  My brother, the Giant fan, was interested in going to the games. So, we shared tickets.    He became a fervent Jets fan.  We tailgated at the old stadium from 7:30AM till kickoff.  Drove home in states we should not have driven home in.  I lived in PA at the time and he was in NJ.  So, me being a genius thought we should leave the tickets in NJ.  I’d get him on the way.  Usually, I’d say “got the tickets?”.  One day, I forgot to ask that magical question.  We got to the stadium and set up our elaborate tailgate party before I asked.  Uhhh, didn’t have the tickets.  So, off I went to Parsipany to pick them up.   My brother had to pay a parking guy to let me back in to our lot.  After that I kept the tickets.

So, went through the 90’s and early 2000’s.  I remember the debauchery of gate “D”.  I remember the 98 season where Parcells had us all believing.  With Parcells , we always expected to win.  At least for me, with every coach since then, we always hoped to win.

As we migrated to the new stadium my brother opted out.  He didn’t want to pay the PSl for decent seats.  I kept them.  I lived in Buffalo NY at the time.  I’d make the long journey to Met Life most weeks.  Sometimes my brother would go, sometimes I’d go with another friend.  Became ugly when I moved to South Dakota.   Obviously, that’s long commute on a Sunday morning.  I made a few visits. Brought my GF at that time to her first games.  Sold the rest.  In 2016, after I got a job in CT, I got laid off.  I wasn’t able to cover the cost and the PSL fees for these really good seats.  So, goodbye Jets games.

I missed that camaraderie.  I missed my friends.  I missed the whole game day experience.  So, for the 2018 season I, along with a good friend, pulled together enough funds to get tickets again.  Looking forward to this season.  Looking forward to continued  progress.  Looking forward to new connections.  Most of all, after a tumultuous few years, looking forward to normalcy.

Now, I left out all of the horror stories of the Jets over the years.  Nothing about the 1-15 season in 96. Nothing about 82 AJ Duhe game, the loss of the AFC championship games of 98, 2009 and 2010.  You won’t hear “Same ole Jets” out of me this year.  I’m Hopeful.  We believe.  What is life about if you have nothing to believe in?   I’m a Jets fan.  That will be the case until senility eventually takes over.

Go F*&^%ing Jets!

August of 2016 ended up being the culmination for what turned out to be the worst year of my life.  It also turned into a pivot point that put me back on a path that held  some semblance of hope and what I hoped would turn into personal redemption.  During 2016 I ended up losing the singular love of my life, moved into a rooming house so I couldn’t bring my kids, and finally lost my job in the angry month of August.   Late August (8/25 to be exact), reminded me of the healing power of music.  Although I didn’t have a hundred dollars to spare, I carelessly spent it.  One last grasp at feeling human.

2016 started in a rocky note.  The relationship I had invested myself in, heart, mind, wallet and soul was dying a slow death.  I had moved to CT and my regular visits to SD were no longer being welcomed with open arms.  A large sum of $ was spent flights that were never used, etc..   Even a week’s vacation, where  I planned to drive out with my oldest daughter was rebuffed at the last minute.  Don’t get me wrong, there is a bigger backstory that one day I’ll commit to paper, but bottom line things fell apart via circumstances of shared blame, and things ended on an acrimonious note.  What was born in a bar in South Dakota, died 1,500 miles away after a year and a half.

The term devastation doesn’t begin to describe the feeling of heartbreak.  Although I’m usually good with words, I can’t think of one to describe the depths that my heart and soul had sunk to.  I pretty much became a shell for some time.  I had spent so much money via credit to subsidize my trips west, or her trips east for football games etc…., I ended up deeply in debt.   Couldn’t really afford an apartment any longer so I “temporarily” took up in a rooming house.  Basically becoming what I used to make fun of.  Eating dinner alone on the end of a bed with a tv tray while watching Law an Order.  I went from getting free suites in Vegas every few months to this.  Humbling is the term that comes to mind, although demoralizing fits as well.   Every now and then my ex or I would reach out to one another, usually while either intoxicated or feeling particularly alone.  Like reaching for a lost limb….

During this time I deeply contemplated suicide.  I couldn’t envision a continued existence like this.  I didn’t see a scenario where the hole in my heart was ever going to heal, and even getting up in the morning was an effort that didn’t feel worth it.   I soothed myself with the knowledge that I always would that way out if I chose to use it.  I balanced that with the fact that I have 3 kids, who didn’t need that baggage to carry through their lives.  After years with me, they were with their mom now.  That was problematic to say the least, but I willed myself forward if only to be there for them, knowing at some point they would need me.

I muddled through the next several months.  The end of winter turned into the green of spring and then the dog days of summer.  In July I began to get wind of coming lay offs at my job.  I felt that I was in danger in this round of cuts.  I found it difficult to put much effort or care into my work at this time.  I didn’t care about much at that point.  I was drinking too much. Almost every day.  Being numb was good, until I was alone at home when  all I had in my mind was my growing list of failures.  Then, on 8/11 I got the word.  Laid off.  Couldn’t be angry or blame them, because I think I did a crappy job.  I took it as one more step to my entrenched path to oblivion.

I had started the process of signing up for Uber by now, so I’d have enough to hopefully stay half step ahead of homelessness.  Life became day to day.   Being laid off left me a lot more time to sit at the bar.

Bruce Springsteen had a 3 night stand scheduled for Met Life stadium.  If you know me at all, you know that my life, outside of my kids, revolves around Bruce Springsteen and the New York Jets.  I’d been a Springsteen fan since the early 80’s when he would show up at the Stone Pony and jam with the house band Cats on a Smooth Surface.   Strange things always seemed to happen to me in conjunction with Springsteen records and tours.  Mostly good stuff.   Got a big promotion at my job in NJ when The Rising was released, the song Land of Hopes and Dreams and associated live album was released when my oldest daughter was born…….  There are others as well, and that’s the extent of my superstition, but I convinced myself that going to one of the NJ shows would do something.  Maybe it would make me care about something again.  Maybe it would make me want to wake up the next morning again.   So, I bought a ticket for the 8/25 show.  Just one.  No date in sight, and quite honestly I wasn’t remotely interested in companionship at that time.   I spent the 100 bucks and headed to NJ.

A good friend of mine from my Jets season ticket days was at the show as well.  So, I tailgated a bit with him and his buddy.  As usual the parking lot was filled with the Sounds of Asbury Park.  I began to feel a little less alone, and part of this big community.  If you are a Springsteen fan, you understand.  If not, you never will.

Oddest moment of the afternoon, I saw Christopher “Mad Dog” Russo lumbering through the parking lot.  I shouted something to him, and he gave me thumbs up.  He was probably afraid I wanted to take a picture with him or talk sports.   He had this large disturbing band aid on his face and that’s all I focused on.  He vanished into the crowd and I had some more beer.

Finally, it was time to go into the stadium.  So in we walked.  I wasn’t sitting anywhere near my buddy, so we split off to our assigned seats.  I had told myself that for the next 3 hours plus, I would divest myself of any sadness and self pity.  For tonight, at least, my sadness would be pushed behind.  It would be attached to nothing but yesterday.  My ex was dead to me.  My kids would be there when I went back to CT.   I was going to fall into this moment, this 3 hour mix of music, spiritual redemption and peace.  I set myself up for a life changing night.  I wasn’t disappointed.

I had heard that Bruce had played close to 4 hours 2 nights earlier.  I was only hoping it would get close to that point tonight.   The concert opened with New York Serenade.  An older song from his second album.  The line “Walk Tall, or baby Don’t walk at all”, bit me that night.   A song I hadn’t really paid that much attention to over the years, meant something that night.

The singular moment of the concert was early on.  He performed the song “My City of Ruins”   Originally written for Asbury Park as the town tried to bring itself back to some semblance of relevance.   It was adopted and used for NYC in the days days post 9/11.  The refrain of “Rise UP!”  can fit in so many ways.  Even more so with the things going on in our country today, whether it be related to weather, or people vs people.   Mid song, however Bruce reverted to a free form spoken interlude.  He asks, rhetorically, “Have you ever been knocked down?”  he repeats the question several times.  He then asks “If you’ve been knocked down, will you build yourself back up?”.   He repeated it over and over again, louder and louder with the music rising behind him.   It became almost a mantra, and in fact it felt like a mantra being sent to me.  Now, I know that’s not the case, but damn it this was my 3 hours.  I shan’t lie, I had tears in my eyes.

The concert ended a hair over 4 hours later.  Jersey Girl was the final song, during which a marriage proposal took place on stage.  All in all, the greatest concert I have ever seen, and likely the greatest show I will ever see.  A roller coaster of great joy, followed by great despair, all intwined with the hope for personal redemption.

This was how I ended my August of 2016.  A renewed drive.  I honed my strategy to make the most I can doing Uber until I find a real job.  Although we all have our days of self pity, mine are no longer debilitating.  I hit the bar once a week (most of the time).   I believe better days are ahead.  I’m armed with the confidence and will to succeed, ultimately.  I actually even started dating again.  Failure, unfortunately, is always an option.  However it won’t be because I didn’t try.

So, one of the benefits of driving rideshare for a living is the the fact that you meet a very diverse group of people.  I drive early mornings in the hopes of getting long rides to the airport from business people.  I pick up people who have worked overnight, sweep up some drunk folks sobering up at the local diner.  Mostly on-descript encounters.  But, there is a very special group…..  Strippers.

My first encounter with a stripper was shortly after I first starting driving Uber and I was still trying to determine my strategy to make maximum $$.  About 9PM I got a call to local “Gentleman’s club”.  Wasn’t closing time, so I figured it was just a happy hour drunk going home to his loving wife and children.   Much to my surprise, a lovely lady exited the club and made her way to my car.

She was dressed conservatively, but had some glitter on her face.  Now, I’m a bit of a chatter box.  I try to make conversation with all of my riders.  Her ride was 25 minutes and I hate an awkward silence.  So, I was trying to just make conversation.  She was very defensive, thought I was trying something.  She asked  me straight up, “do you think you’re getting something off of me?”.   I said, I’m an uber driver my dear, I can barely afford gas.   She cracked up, and we ended up having a nice conversation.  She was working to get a place of her own, so she and her daughter could be out of her parent’s house.  She seemed genuine.  She said she didn’t drink or anything else.  Only met her that once.

The next young lady ordered a ride late morning.  I picked her up.  She didn’t seem like a stripper. She wasn’t particularly attractive.  (don’t meant that as an insult, she just didn’t look like a stripper).   She barely spoke english, and her ride was again about 25 mins away.  All I had was an address.  No clue she was going to a strip club.  As we pulled up, I was like, “you going here’?.     “Si”, she says.  and I drop her off.  She says, “I give you teep next time”.     Off I go.

Same day, a long day, I get a call late in the afternoon.  I pick a young lady up.  And she is going to the same address as the lady earlier in the day.  This lady, probably early 20’s, very thin, but very confident.  Again, small talk.  Me: “where are you heading?”.   Her: “work”.      Me: “Where do you work?”.  Her: “strip club”.     So off we went.  At this point I recognized the address.   She doesn’t want to be bothered with conversation.  I”m just amazed I have another stripper in the car.   As I pull up to let her out, I get another call at that location.  I picked up the lovely non stripper type woman I had dropped off earlier in the day.  She was very happy to see me.  I could tell, because she gave me a teep of 10 moist dollar bills at the end of the ride.

One more story for this chapter.  I get a ride request, early afternoon.  The pick up was local to me.  I arrive, and out comes a young lady.  She’s wearing a sun dress and it appears there is nothing underneath,  and she was carrying a suitcase.  She enters the car, prefers to sit in the front and off we go.  In this case the ride is about 45-50 mins away.  Small talk, she’s heading to a strip club.  She’s about 20 yrs old. Her hope is to move to Chicago the following week.  She’s working extra hours to be able to afford the move.

Pleasant enough conversation, her phone is almost dead and I provide her a charger. She asks if I can put on a different radio station. (I guess classic rock wasn’t her thing).  We get her phone charged and we eventually end up at her strip club.  Much to her chagrin, it wasn’t open yet, so she couldn’t start work and had no where to go.  I asked her if I could drop her off at Dunkin or Starbucks nearby, so she could kill some time in her shear sundress with nothing underneath.  She says, “If I give you 30 bucks will you hang with me until the bar opens?”.  I’m like sure.  I’ll hang with you.

So, we trade numbers cuz she may need a ride to Chicago.  Snap chat friends?  yep.  Instagram?  Yep.  Bar opens, and off she goes.  I leave and head back to my hell in CT.   Next morning I get a text, can you pick me up?   She tells me where she is,  and I quote her a price.  (Cheaper than Uber or Left, but fair to me).   She starts bargaining, and I hold my price.  Bottom line I go get her.  She’s hungover, or whatever.  Haven’t had any other direct contact with her since then.  But on her social media, she’s in to some strange stuff.  went to Chicago.  Had guns, drugs, etc……   She seemed kind of bright, so that’s kind of sad.

Point of this?  Not sure.  We all make choices.  Some good, some bad, but most are irrevocable.  We live with the good and bad and work for years to overcome them.  I don’t judge people for their choices. I’ve been judged for mine.  Most of us live day to day, good vs bad, and hope we end up with more on the positive side of the ledger.  What makes someone become a stripper?   Their own existence.   No judgement.   We don’t walk in their pumps.

 

 

 

Validation.  As human beings it’s something we search for from the time we become conscious of our surroundings until the time we take our final breath.  For most of us, it’s a given.  Our parents provide it to us by caring for us as babies, through childhood and until we finally venture out on our personal road to adult hood.   There’s comfort in childhood.  We feel that we are unconditionally loved, we feel like we are part of a greater community with our family.  Teenage angst not withstanding, we only have the courage to lash out and rebel, because we know we are unconditionally part of this greater collective.  We are validated by our family’s love and care.  It’s adulthood and exposure to the greater society at large that creates life’s complications.

The real world at large doesn’t promise unconditional love and acceptance.  Whether we venture out into the world to continue our education or forge a career for ourselves,  acceptance and or validation is not as readily accessible.  We have to prove ourselves.  We have to prove we have the ability to self sustaining to just survive physically, let alone psychologically and emotionally.  How do we do that?  Good grades, money to survive, the love of another, hopefully some type of upward momentum in our careers that allows us to stay afloat. Hence the advent of workaholics.

I was lucky enough to have fallen into a career that lasted about 30 yrs.  I was always good at my various jobs.  If challenged, I felt the need to not only meet but exceed expectations.  Being successful there fulfilled my need for validation.  I began with an entry level job in 1982 for a company named Beneficial Finance.  This was a large loan company at the time. It was subsequently purchased by Household Finance and eventually HSBC Bank.

My mom got me the interview and job at Beneficial. I worked as a machine operator for several years and after a short stint as a retail store manager, I returned to the same position and began my earnest effort to move up in the world.  Career driven, I was promoted to Supervisor, to Unit Manager to eventually a site manager in Rockaway NJ.  After a short period of time, we were able to bring this print and mail center to a superior level of operational efficiency.  HSBC had two other processing centers.  One in Buffalo NY and one in Salinas CA.  The Bank wanted to try to replicate the level of efficiency and cost savings we were showing in NJ so, they put me in charge of the site in Buffalo.  After that success, and much to chagrin of some of the folks in charge in CA, I was given the Salinas site as well.  So, basically, I had operational responsibility for 3 state of the art print and mail operations.  At it’s max, we were processing in excess of 38 million envelopes per month. As you can imagine, I was in a good place.  No degree, but making a 6 figure salary based on the hard work of my team and myself brought a great deal of pride and validation regarding this success.

But alas, all good things come to an end.  Mail volume began to shrink.  People, myself included migrated to paperless documents.  I Moved to Buffalo NY, which I loved by the way,  when downsizing occurred, .   A few years later, HSBC sold their credit card business to Capital One.  The final nail in the coffin:  Capital One outsourced the function that I made my money doing.  Things weren’t looking good.  I was thrown a life line by a manager moving to Cap One and he offered me a job as long as I could move to Sioux Falls SD.  (That’s a whole other blog entry).   So, off I went.  Lasted a good two years and got laid off.  Boom!  Unemployed for the first time in my life.  Humbling to say the least.  But, I got a very generous severance package and I still had enough self confidence to believe I’d land on my feet.

After 5 months, I received a job offer, back in the print and mail industry in beautiful Windosr CT.   So, I hop in my car chase the $.   I left my heart there, as I had happened to fall in love with someone in SD.  Life is complicated and I’ll never know if I did the right thing or not by moving as this person brought me a love I never thought I would find in my life,  But, at any rate, off I drove.

The company in CT was a poorly run organization which I will not name, but I ended up parting ways with them about 18 months later.  No good severance package, no love of my life by my side, and no family to go home to at night.  The mighty certainly fell, and I was forced to sleep in my car for a couple of nights.   Validation or any sense of self worth was in short supply.  I’ve always turned to some type of bi polar isolation during bad times.  Sleeping in my car, I’d post some ridiculous thing on Facebook that I found funny to just get the reaction.  If people laughed or even got offended or mad, it made me feel less alone.  An odd way to gain validation, but we all find comfort in different ways.

Today, I still job hunt.  I need a job that has benefits, because I’m not as healthy as I look.  But, for now, I’m driving for Uber and Lyft.  Making enough to keep a roof over my head, pay some child support and have a few beers once a week.  I find validation from many of the riders in my car.  If I can make one laugh, or be a sounding board for the ones who need one, I feel like I’m doing something positive.  The days of a 6 figure salary are long gone.  I learned that money can’t buy happiness.  Money doesn’t  provide validation of our value or humanity.  It’s scary knowing that I’m a blown transmission away from being virtually homeless, but we march forward.   That in itself is validation.

When I first began driving for Uber and then Lyft, I walked in not knowing much about how to do it, when to do it or where to do it.  I was a bit of a prima-donna when I began, so I decided to just work dayshift.  People would be thrilled to ride with me to work, or doctor’s appointments or whatever.  That was all well and good to start out, and let me get my “water wings”, but there wasn’t much money being made.

So, I revisited my strategy.  I’ve always been an early riser and figured some others were as well.  So, I began getting up at 3:30AM.  My thought was I’d get some business people going to the airport or train stations, which would afford me a fairly lucrative trip.  Although, I enjoyed the vision of having scantily clad college co-eds frolicking in my back seat for rides home at bar closing time, the reality of having said college co-eds losing he contents of their stomachs in my back seat pretty much put me off.   So, early mornings it was.

An entertaining byproduct of these early morning starts, however, were the ever popular walk of shame.  I’m sure you all recall perhaps ending up at a place late at night and waking up in a panic the next morning.   I’ve had the honor of being the first friendly face these riders see the next morning, when they mumble almost incoherently, “Please get me out of here”.

I live and usually drive about 25 minutes from the large University of CT campus in Storrs, CT.  First time I went out at there was at about 5AM last October.  It was unusually cold, and in the upper 20’s.   I didn’t know the area well, but the rider was at one of the onsite dorms.   When I eventually pulled up, about 20 mins or so after his request, I saw a young gentlemen standing outside.  He was wearing basketball shorts, and a basketball tank top.   He was in socks and carrying his shoes.  He was obviously cold, and shivering. When he got into my car, I said, “why didn’t you wait inside until I got here?”.   His response, ” I had to get out of there before she woke up.  She’s F’n crazy”.   I laughed, and he said, “dude, I’m serious.  Please get me out of here”.

Next morning, same area.  Same long ride.  This time it’s off campus.  Was called into a residential area.  Beautiful houses, all up on elevated hills.  The kind of neighborhood where all of the mailboxes are on the same side, so I’m not sure which side of the road the house is on.  So, I pull over in my best estimation as to where the pick up should be.  The sun is just starting to come up, so can see things fairly clearly.

As I look to passenger side mirror, I see a young, very attractive young lady approaching my car.  She’s wearing a very skimpy black party dress.  She is barefoot and she’s carrying her shoes in one hand.  In the other she’d carrying her purse and her bra.   She gets in the car.  “Please get me out of here” were the first words she uttered, in what likely was an alcohol induced raspy voice.  Almost immediately, I noticed a very disturbing odor coming from the back seat.  I have not idea what this odor was.  This very attractive young lady, who’s breasts were partially hanging out the side of her dress, had the most disturbing odor I can ever recall smelling.  I have no idea whether it was her breath, or another area that was creating this odor, but it was overwhelming.   I rolled down the window to get some fresh air.  She made small talk the whole way home and said she just wanted to get home and sleep.  Luckily for me, it was another short ride.   My parting words as she left the car.  “don’t forget your bra”.

Finally, for this installment, about 10:30 one morning I received a request from an apartment complex near where I live.  I get there promptly, and a very attractive young lady is out side walking towards my car, being followed by a gentlemen.  He is trying to talk to her but she just keeps walking towards me.

She gets in the car, and says.  “please go, please get me out of here”.  Off we go.  She tells me she’s very fucked up.  (drunk), and needs to get to work.  Now when I say drunk, she was very drunk.  Like she was midnight drunk, flying high, and this is 10:30 in the morning.   She tells me she’s a bartender and went home with a few people from the bar.  Some things happened.   Now she can’t find her socks and bra.   Off course I came up with some witty retort which escapes my mind, but she laughed.  She was supposed to open the bar at 11, and when I informed her we won’t make it in time. She was kind of upset, but said “oh well, I’ll just call my boss and tell her she’s on her own”.  She calls her boss, and they argue.  She says, “what do you want from me, I’m fucked up and ended up in bed with 3 other people”?    I got her home, she thanked me and offered me a free drink if I ever come to her bar.  (Pretty doubtful she’d remember me).

Walk of shame rides are fun.  Some riders will go into detail, and others are just so disgusted with themselves that they don’t want to talk.   I always feel good, however, not being the hungover one.  Oh, to be young again.

As most of my friends, or perceived friends know, I’ve been driving for Uber and Lyft since being laid off of my job in August 2016.  I envisioned this as a short term bridge to help keep me afloat until I was able to land another gig in my established field of expertise (Operations Management).    Here I am 11 months later still working in ride share. And, while I don’t make nearly enough money to live any type of comfortable lifestyle, it has helped me from falling into an abyss of self pity and has kept me in touch with humanity.  As we all know there is a load of good, bad, ugly and glorious out there.  Most days, through my interactions with riders, I see several of those aspects of humanity.  Connection.

From the drunk hookers I picked up after a house call at 4:30AM, to the dentist fearing teenage young man who I kept entertained while he sweated over his impending dental appointment. (at the end of the ride, he gave me a $20.00 tip so I could go home and rest because I looked tired), I’ve seen a lot of the aspects of humanity I mentioned above.  I’ve also met and developed some real bonafide friendships that have become very special to me.  As much I need a real job with a decent salary and medical benefits, I will keep this aspect of my life open.   If you know me at all, you know that the opportunity to observe, push buttons and quietly laugh to myself is big thing for me.  Ride Share offers endless opportunities in that regard.

In this space, going forward I’ll pick a story of a rider.  (Obviously, no names).  Some will be humorous, some will be heartbreaking, but I promise all will be interesting.  I probably complete over 100 jobs per week.  most short, with limited interaction.  Several per week, however, are in excess of an hour.  I use that time to discuss the world and get their story if they are interested in sharing.  (FYI, it’s much easier when they are drunk).

I don’t consider my work in ride sharing beneath me.  I work hard for the money I earn and it’s helped to keep me sane during this rough time in my life.  Sometimes people like to share their lives with strangers, knowing there will be no judgements, no repercussions, and that they likely won’t see that person again.

I trust you’ll keep an eye on this space for future chapters.   Trust me when I say, I have some good ones.

So, you went and found yourself a brand spanking new relationship.  You think this one is the person of your dreams.  Your heart skips a beat when when you receive a text.  You get a big goofy grin when when he or she calls.   You look forward to the next time you see them like a 6 yr old looks forward to Christmas morning.   You are all about this person.  Your friends take a back seat and you find it hard to concentrate at work.  Isn’t it heaven?   Like hitting the jack pot at the casino.  You made the big time.

In reality Relationships are a gamble.  We invest our heart and soul on a wing and a prayer.  It’s like knowing in all certainty that you hold the winning power ball ticket, only to sigh heavily when we realize we are one of the millions that don’t.  I’m sure we all know the stats.  Over 50% of marriages end in divorce.   And usually we spend years going from relationship to relationship until we find that one that seems to be the ONE.  If we were baseball players, most of our batting averages would suck.  So why do we do it?

I assume first and foremost, we aren’t meant to be alone.  Pro-creaton and all that.  And we have this desire to share our time, share our company and share our soul.  The thrill of the chase, realizing that someone is as attracted to you as you are them.  Theres a feeling of comfort and fulfillment that comes with someone being attracted to us.

I know, my last serious relationship made no sense.  She was 20 some odd years my junior and I probably spent more time early on looking to see if she had an angle, or agenda instead of actually enjoying the time with this special person.  Regardless, it ended up as most relationships do, with a fly ball,  I was out at 3rd.

But I guess ultimately it is the thrill of believing someone cares. Knowing that you will get that random text.  You’ll have someone ask how your day was, and believe that they actually care.  We can spend time worrying about when it all goes to hell or relax and enjoy the ride.  I’ve gotten somewhat jaded in the last couple of years and trust doesn’t come easy from me.  I haven’t’ decided whether or not that at 55 yrs old, I’ve had enough of the relationship game.   I already cut some of my losses by no longer going to casinos.  I won’t lie though, I do miss those things I mentioned above.  Good morning texts, surprise phone calls, and the warmth I felt in my arms in anticipation of holding that special person.    It is a gamble though…..

Right?

I’m never really spent much time thinking about blogs or bloggers.  I figured that what is important to them would likely not interest me in the least.  After the last couple of years, I’ve come to determine that I was likely short sighted.  Writing is a form of connection and at times we all need to connect to someone.  If not physically, then through words, emotions, shared interests and even shared experiences.  One thing we all share is the human condition.  Our time is finite and we owe it ourselves and to each other to share what and when we can.   That doesn’t mean we are an open book for all the world to see and likely judge, but instead allow a glimpse into ourselves and potentially forge come new connection and maybe even help someone by showing them that they are not alone in whatever quagmire they find themselves in.   Solitude is a dangerous place no matter how safe it may feel.

A bit of my backstory for those who only know me from my tasteless FB posts and commentary.  I’m 55.  A divorced father of 3 kids, who currently reside with their mom. I grew up in Succasunna NJ.  I worked for a large banking corporation for almost 30 years before being laid off.  My journey with that bank took me from Rockaway NJ, to Buffalo NY, to Sioux Falls South Dakota.  After the layoff and about four months of unemployment I received to job offer in Connecticut and made the move back east.    I got laid off about 18 months later and here I am.   It’s been difficult finding employment, so I fell into the Uber life.  Driving full time keeps me somewhat sane by allowing me contact with people, using my innate charm.   (This charm makes up for my staggering mediocre looks).

I’m a huge New York Jets fan.  Had season tickets from 1991 until 2015.  It’s hard to describe my feelings towards the music of Bruce Springsteen, but suffice to say, that I don’t know how I would have gotten this far in life without his words, music and the connection to my soul.

I’ve opted to try my hand at writing a blog after a long Uber ride with someone who is a published writer.  I shared with her my life long dream to be a writer.  She was inspiring to speak to and I felt very comfortable with this person.  It was as if we had known each other for much longer period of  time than that 90 minute car ride.  We stay in touch and she is an inspiration.

As a kid I wrote short stories, song lyrics, poetry, was even voted most creative in my High School Human Behavior class.  As a painfully shy adolescent, I found great pleasure in seeing people react to what I did or said.  It was enlivening in a way.  At this point in my life, I need that type of catharsis again.  Perhaps its the ultimate type of narcissism.  So be it.  I seek connection.

Not sure what this will eventually turn into.  Probably precious little of the wacky, posts of questionable taste, that I put on FB.  Although, I can’t keep this sense of “humor” in check forever.   I’m assuming that most people who read this, if anyone does, will be from my Facebook link.  If so, you’ll be introduced to someone you may not recognize from FB.  We are all made up of different facets of ourselves.   I spent a big part of 2016 publicly bleeding over a break-up.  Something I needed to do at the time and I don’t apologize or it.  It was a necessary part of MY healing process.   The rest of the time was spent either trying to make people laugh or piss people off with my posts.  I kind of needed that reaction to make myself remember I was still alive.

This was just a short introduction of what I hope to do with this page.  I’ll likely write something once a week.  Maybe an Uber Story, maybe a personal ad, maybe listing who had bad plastic surgery recently because they are bleeding from the eyes.   I won’t focus on me, or woe is me.  (at least not too often).     I seem to have an interesting slant on how I look at things.  I plan to use this space to share those views.

Finally, I appreciate those who have proven themselves to be true friends over the years. I won’t mention them here, but they should know who they are.  Whether anyone reads my nonsense or not, I’ll continue to publish, maintaining that faint hope of connection.

Cheers and regards………