Old Chicago

I thanked my driver for finding me and immediately warned him that I was numb in the face from my dental visit. It was embarrassing, really. All of the areas closest to my tongue (the lingual side) were perfectly fine, but the areas facing my cheek (buccal side) were completely numb up to my eyeballs. I couldn’t even feel if I was drooling – thank the gods for these masks. I was weighed down with my purchases I had to make after the dentist as well, so I was a sweaty mess.

I asked him how his day was (it was approximately 10 am) and he said he was just getting started. My driver revealed that he works the overnight at Kroger/Fry’s in the warehouse and officially lifts 1 million pounds a night. I asked him how his shoulders were doing, because they were obviously taking a pounding. He said that he ran circles around the younger guys and there was one other guy older than him (I guessed him to be mid-30’s) who was older and more tired than him, but they still did more than the others. My driver told me that they are goal driven, so he consistently hits his and makes $37 an hour. He was driving Uber today because he had taken a trip to Denver this past weekend and felt the need to replace the money he had so easily spent away.

I asked him what his plan was when his body couldn’t keep up. What was going to happen after the warehouse? He kind of laughed and said there was a story. (Well, good, that’s what we’re here for!) My driver said he was originally from Chicago and he moved here with his now-ex-wife. Unfortunately, she flipped on him, made false claims like he took their various leisure items like boats and jet skis down to Rocky Point and sold them (he’s never been), and she sold their 6,000 sq. ft. house for $1.6 million without giving him any proceeds. Now, this was a short ride and I couldn’t get into a deep dive. He talked as if he had told the story 1.6 million times and he had a few shots before he told it. I still told him I was sorry. But my driver said that he had a good girlfriend now that he’s been solid with for two years. I still don’t know what his plan is after the warehouse, but maybe it involves being happy.

My driver asked me about my story. By that time we were about five parked cars away from my front door, so he got an extremely abridged version. He then said he probably shouldn’t complain, but I reminded him that we aren’t here to compete for the shit cookie. He laughed and told me to take care of myself. I told him to do the same as I dragged my bag that weighed as much as a dead body out of the car. I can never buy just one thing at Target, even when it comes to staples like dish soap and bags of rice.