I'm a driver for Lyft. I’ve opened up my personal vehicle to Lyft riders under the assumption that we could treat each other as if we were dear old friends. Some friends are awesome. This piece is not for you. Please, keep on being beacons of First World humanity. However, some friends act like entitled barnacles. For those of you who fall into that category, here are some tips that should make you less of a barnacle in my Lyft life.
Don’t sit in the front seat if you’re going to be an asshole who doesn’t want to talk.
Please don’t be the rider with bitchy resting face that jumps in the front seat and then proceeds to tell me that what you do is none of my business, and then turn down the barely audible music for all of the not-talking we’re going to be doing for 15 minutes. If you want to be Ms. Daisy, then by all means, do it from the backseat.
Don’t get in my car with your wasted friend and tell me they’re going to be fine, in which case you shouldn’t sit in the front seat. Sit in the back to let your clothes – and not my car– nurse your friend’s barf.
I know. I know. Nobody likes taking care of one’s drunk-ass friend with a limp-noodled body. Personal responsibility and all that good stuff. However, you’re going to hate your laissez-faire friendship once Lyft charges you $250 to pay for the cleanup of the exorcism of Emily Rose back there. But do you know what the $250 doesn’t fix? The lingering six-month stench of puke. So sit back there with your friend, and take one for the team. Or push your drunken friend out of the car when the gurgling starts. Your choice.
Don’t blame me when you get to the car and the app says, “Ride started.”
That's the Lyft app making sure you don’t leave the driver waiting for too long, or it might be the app’s way of making sure you’re not an Uber troll. I didn’t write the code for the app, so stop giving me a shitty rating because of it.
Don’t get mad when I don’t have bottled water for you.
I drive a Prius, not a cargo van. Space is very limited. Over the course of one day, I can give anywhere from 20 to 30 rides involving anywhere from 20 to 40 people, with or without luggage (physical or emotional). To have a water bottle for every passenger, I would have to carry two to three cases per day (12 to 18 cases per week, or 624 to 936 cases per year) on the off chance that you might be a little thirsty. But guess what? You’re going to a bar, where they offer water at no cost. So straighten out the curl on your upper lip. It will be fine.
Don’t get mad at Waze.
Waze is trying to get you around cluttered streets, thus saving you time and money. I’ve been living in the city for six and a half years, and I know my way around some parts fairly well. Yet there are 2,612 streets in San Francisco, and in six and a half years, I’ve probably traversed about only 200 of them because my previous jobs did not entail driving a car all over the city, all day long. Also, of those 2,612 streets, regular vehicles are allowed to make a left turn on about only twelve of them. Hey, Waze, you’re lookin’ mighty fine tonight!
Don’t expect me to stop right in the middle of a seriously busy street (Fell, Oak, Market, etc.) during a seriously busy time to pick you up or drop you off.
There are about 280,000 on-street parking spaces in San Francisco, of which 279,999.5 are occupied at any given time (the other half of a space was left open by a Smart Car; thanks for nothing, little guy). We’re not official taxis with our own lanes. It won’t kill you to walk just a few steps around the corner, which avoids a possible accident and/or ticket AND gives you some of that much-needed exercise that you lie about on Facebook.
No Enrique Iglesias on my Spotify.
Ever. Listen, I get it. You and the girls are trying to set the tempo for a night out on the town and either request a song or take over the auxillary cord. I like EDM as much as the next guy, so I’ll tolerate weak-sauce attempts at it by Classixx and even Mariah Carey, but I draw the line once I hear “Hero” or the relationship-codependency anthem “Escape” by Enrique Iglesias coming out of my speakers at top volume. Your night will already be filled with plenty of bad decisions. Please do not make me listen to them as well.