Warning – vulgarity ahead. And hilarity.
For Memorial Day weekend I travelled to Charlotte to visit with a bunch of my friends from college. And while general shenanigans ensued most of the weekend, one of the most memorable outings concluded with the best Uber ride I’ve ever had.
After hitting up Food Truck Friday in Charlotte’s South End, we headed to The Gin Mill on South Tryon Street. We left earlier than normal to meet up with a group of friends who were getting to the apartment at about midnight. So we called in Uber.
A giant white Cadillac pulled up and six of us piled in. Our driver, Calvin, dressed in a suit, was our driver. After teasing us about leaving the bar early, his first piece of wisdom for future trips was to NOT take an Uber from 1:30am to 2:30am. Why? Because, he pointed out, this time coincides with the mass exodus from the bars. Prices for Uber rides skyrocket during peak hours. His advice, “Instead, spend the hour here,” motioning to the the building we were passing, “at Tits and Grits.”
The car exploded with laughter. Even now I giggle at the name…Tits and Grits. But Calvin ensured us that 1) Tits and Grits was real, and 2) it was a “classy” strip joint. “More like a titty bar. But,” and here was the kicker, “it’s just $10 to get in and it’s an all-you-can-eat buffet.” Hence the the “grits” part of Tits and Grits.
Now I know what you are thinking…maybe. Who wants to eat at a strip club? Let alone a buffet! Would it be any good? Would you get sick? I have no idea. In a sober state, I would never, ever, want to eat at a strip club. And paired with the fact that I’m not a huge fan of grits (I know, I know – not liking grits is sacrilegious in the south) but at 2:00am, after a night of drinking, grits sound damn good. Even if they are at a strip club.
Now our group never made it to Tits and Grits and I’m not even sure if the establishment is still in existence or if it sounds as funny/amazing as Calvin related. But this was the first (and only…so far) time that my Uber driver or, thinking about it, any type of transportation operator suggested I visit a strip club. And probably the only time I thought the advice actually made sense.
Also…Tits and Grits!! Best. Strip. Club. Name. Ever!
But this was only the beginning of the ride.
After getting over the hilarity of Tits and Grits, we asked Calvin how he liked being an Uber driver. He liked the money and he found it amusing. We asked him what was the craziest thing that had happened in his car? Knowing this was the personal spokesman of a brunch oriented strip club, we knew it had to be good.
And good it was.
“Well,” Calvin paused, thinking. “I can’t think of the craziest thing…but the ride I gave about an hour ago was pretty good.”
At about 10:30pm, Calvin rolled up to a bar and four people piled into his car, one girl and three dudes. Normal conversation ensued for the first couple of minutes before he noticed that the discussion in the back was starting to get a bit heated.
It seems one of the guys, lets call him the Drunk Man was pretty wasted and had put down a lot of money at the bar. More importantly, a lot of money trying to woo some women at the bar. Since none of those women were present in the car, Calvin could tell that the “wooing” had not gone well.
But the Drunk Man was not happy. And as I’ve found, he didn’t blame himself for his lack of success. No. He blamed the women. He ranted, “I can’t believe those bitches. They were just using me to get free drinks. They were just some stupid, lazy-” Now I won’t use the word that Calvin related to us. But it was bad. Like really bad. Instead I’ll use…cheetah. “They were just some stupid, lazy, fucking cheetahs.”
Now Calvin was shocked. We were shocked listening to the story. But you know who was the most shocked? The Woman in the van with the Drunk Man.
She turned on him, “What the fuck?! You can’t use that word! You shouldn’t use that word to describe anyone. You NEVER call a girl a cheetah!”
But the Drunk Man didn’t calm down. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want to! You can’t tell me what I can say. I’ll call anyone a cheetah that deserves it. Those bitches were all cheetahs! You’re a cheetah!”
Her reaction was immediate. The sound of the slap reverberated inside the car and Calvin focused on the road.
“You aren’t going to call me a fucking cheetah!”
The Drunk Man leaned forward. “Pull over man! I’m getting out of this fucking car. And away from this crazy bitch!” And so Calvin obliged and the Drunk Man half-fell, half-stumbled out of the Cadillac before calling, “Cheetah!” over his shoulder.
Now, Calvin pointed out, the door to the Cadillac had barely closed before the Woman turned and addressed the man on her other side. The man in question? Her Boyfriend.
Door slammed shut. Woman turns. “What the fuck?! You’re just going to sit there and let him call me a fucking Cheetah. Huh!? HUH!? I’m your girlfriend!”
Now Calvin knew she had a point. If one of his friends called his girl a “cheetah,” he wouldn’t let it slide under the rug. But the Boyfriend didn’t exactly agree.
Their exchange went back and forth before finally the Boyfriend snapped. “Well maybe it was because you were acting like a fucking Cheetah! Now I’m getting the FUCK out of this car!”
And so Calvin pulled over once more and another occupant left the vehicle.
The rest of the ride, which was only a couple of more blocks, continued in silence. The final man in the car, let’s call him the Silent One, knew better and clamped his mouth shut. And the Woman sat in the back, fuming.
Did the Woman, the Drunk Man, and the Boyfriend reconcile? Did she slap the Boyfriend too? Did the Silent One also call her a cheetah?
No one knows. Because with Uber, the story ends when the ride does.
[title type=”special-h3″ color=”#555555″]What’s your best Uber story?[/title]