I was the only one in line at the Rite Aid until she showed up, a little confused, not sure if she entering the queue from the front or the back. We joked a little (“You’re after me!”; “Maybe I am!” she flirtatiously replied), and I’d say we were “meeting cute” except that it would be a May/December romance. OK, OK, more like July/November. I digress….
Buying more items than usual, I ended up with two large bags. As I arranged myself at the exit — backpack, cane, bag handles — this same sassy dame asked if I needed help. I gave my now standard reply: “Oh, I need a LOT of help, but I can manage these bags OK, thanks.”
“Where do you live?” she asked.
Now, I don’t dream big, but I’ve become a regular at the 13th St. Rite Aid over the past year-plus (it’s close to the movie theater), and when I’ve had bulky purchases, I’ve kept hoping that some kind stranger would offer me ride down to 5th St. (When I just have a few items, I’ll walk home, resting on a bench halfway.) The offer has never happened but now I was thinking, ooh, it’s about to happen.
“5th and Adams,” I replied, coyly adding, “I’m going to call an Uber.”
I fully expected her to say “Oh, don’t be silly,” but instead she asked, “Do you have Lyft?”
“Yes?”
“I’m a Lyft driver and I’m right outside. I’ll go turn the app back on.”
That’s… convenient, I thought. Even hough I was planning to choose Lyft Share to save a few bucks (or Uber Pool, whichever was cheaper), and now that seemed rude. So I was a teensy bit annoyed. But, eh, $7.30, I’d live. And when she accepted the ride, I got to say to her, “I have to wait, it says my driver will be here in one minute.”
She put my bags in the trunk and we were off. Her name is Arlene, she has her own advertising agency, hates Trump, lives in Fort Lee, preferred the hot dogs at Callahan’s but says the cheese fries are better at Hiram’s. At my building, she took both bags and placed them at the top of my stoop.
“You’re a five-star person, Arlene!” I called out as she headed back to her car. “Even if you weren’t a Lyft driver, you’re a five-star person.”
If you’re thinking that the story ends with me looking at my phone and seeing that Arlene had actually canceled the ride so I wouldn’t be charged, well, that hopeful thought crossed my mind too, but it did not happen, people having to earn a living and all. Thank you, Arlene.
bittersweet