It was the usual shift. Nothing eventful had really occurred all night and I was looking forward to getting off the clock a little early.
As I fumbled through the radio stations, while sipping on a diet pop, the indicator on my phone went off, letting me know a passenger needed a ride.
I hit the button to accept the ride and flipped a bitch to head in his direction.
Daft Punk started playing get lucky on the radio, and I was getting into the groove.
A few minutes later, I had reached my destination. I clicked the arrive button, and waited for my passenger to get in.
A burly man of about 32 or 33 stepped into the front passenger seat. He introduced him self and we started to head toward his destination.
We were talking about politics of all things when suddenly he blurted out a long undulated BLAAART, then NEARED, then OPAPIEPKNAAAAH.
I immediately turned and headed toward the hospital, sure that my passenger was having an aneurysm.
Then it became eerily quiet in the car. I could sense something else was going on. I turned and looked at my passenger. His face was white and pale, his eyes had pupils the size of a point at the end of a sharpened blade. He was looking at me like I was lunch, and was drooling.
My heart started to race, but my brain started to race faster. I had only moments to do something before something bad happened. I searched my memory for what he could be on, 3 things came to mind, Acid, Shrooms, or PCP.
Due to his irrational anger that was exuding from him. I decided it was door number three PCP. So I attempted to elevate his mood, before he tore off an arm and consumed it.
The fastest way to elevate an angered addict on PCP is to laugh. It doesn’t matter if its fake or not. Just the thought of laughter is enough to elevate their mood and put them in a different spot. So I laughed, and laughed, and laughed, while still driving and praying in my mind he didn’t try to kill me.
He started to giggle , then laugh as well. But then he started to hit my arm while laughing, and I was right PCP… he just had to be one of those that hits while they laugh.
Each hit hurt like hell because his strength, from pure adrenaline, was probably 3x as much as it would normally be. I knew my arm couldn’t take it much longer, so I pulled over on the corner of San Pedro and 6th street, the light we happened to be at, and told him we’d reached his destination.
He stumbled out still laughing, and then face planted into the pavement.
I knew his anger centers were probably firing off like pistons, so I reached over and slammed the door, driving away as fast as possible before he could get up.
I drove to the nearest McDonalds and took a breather. I let my rideshare service know what happened, where I had dropped him off.
I went home.
When I woke up in the morning, I had a phone call from my rideshare service, asking me if I had seen his phone keys and wallet. I hadn’t, but then I also realized that 6th and San Pedro was skidrow. I guess his karma got the best of him.