I’m trying to be better with money. I can’t bring myself to get on a budget because the word itself feels constricting. It’s not like I buy big-ticket items. That’s what I say to myself to justify my spending habits. I buy drug store lipstick. How can you get more budget than that?
Ride share! One of my first nights in LA I wanted to take a car to my show so I could have a few pops. I don’t remember the exact prices but I think a Lyft was $22 but a Lyft share was $16. $6 savings- that’s a draft beer at a lot of these shit hole comedy shows. I booked it.
I was the first pick up. Then we stopped to pick up a couple. It was a small car so I offered to sit in the front. Turns out the front passenger seat is where the driver keeps all his snacks so he pushed them to the side and offered me a Swedish Fish. I declined.
The girl got in the back seat and said, “You don’t have to sit in the front. I don’t take up that much room”
Great! We got an interacter in the car.
I laughed “Oh no, it’s me who takes up too much room” I had my oversized handbag on my lap. I motioned to it.
The man part of the couple entered the car in silence. There was hip hop playing but I was not familiar with it. It did have a lot of curse words.
“Oh shit! Can you bump this song up?” the girl asked. I’m thinking bump it up means switch it to something else and I started to like the girl. But no, it meant, “Crank it!”
Here I am, my second night in LA, in the front seat of a Lyft with my seatbelt on and my purse on my lap with three twenty something’s blaring hard core hip hop on the expressway. I was the only one in the car who didn’t feel cool as fuck.
I vowed to never ride share again. Until, three weeks later, I am back in Brooklyn and running late to a show. I don’t want my tardiness to cost me twenty dollars so I peek at the share price. Thirteen dollars. Seven-dollar savings. It’s almost 50% off. I gotta grab it.
The car picks me up first. It’s a new KIA. I like those KIAs. I tell the guy “I like your car. Is it new?” The driver kind of laughs and doesn’t answer me. I put on my headsets. What do I care?
Two lights later we pull over. “Pick up” the driver says. I don’t think he speaks a lot of English. I see a lady flailing her arms around on the sidewalk. He pulls the car up. She screams her name as she opens the door. I turn down my headsets. “Methodist emergency room” she yells. Then starts moaning and crying and saying things like “Ahhh I am in so much pain” She calls somebody and tells them she is on her way to the emergency room. She screams to Jesus half way through the call. She pants to catch her breath. I am sitting beside her in the back seat doing nothing but pretending to listen to music.
“I’m sorry I am crying in the car,” she wails at me.
“I’m sorry you are in so much pain”
“I can’t take the painnnnnnnnn. Drive faster, please!”
She gets quiet and I’m afraid to look in her direction in the event she is passed out. I don’t have to because suddenly she is groaning in pain again.
I spot the hospital in the distance.
“Drop me on the side where Emergency is” she says between sobs.
We pull up. She says “thank you” and gets out.
I say “Good luck”
I almost felt like I should explain to her I would go with her but I have a show.
I mean she probably saved more than $500 dollars.
I should have asked for a cut.
Thanks for listening!
Kendra is a stand up comic living in Brooklyn where she owns a super comfortable bed. She spends most of her time wondering where the hell her sugar daddy is and hoping he didn’t settle.