Recently, I was in Hilton Head South Carolina and I took an Uber from my hotel to the airport. That’s about an hour ride. The car pulls up and I open the back door. The driver, a woman in her fifties, looks back at me and says, “Sit up front! You’re making me feel like your driver?” That’s right. On the list of things you don’t want to hear someone say, the top three go, “I hate giving blowjobs,” “I’m keeping it,” and an Uber driver happily telling you to sit shotgun. At that point, you have a decision to make. You either make up some reason as to why you need to sit in the back or you swallow hard and awkwardly laugh as you say, “What was I thinking!?” and then have a seat in the front with your crazy driver. Well, I’m not very quick. So there I was, front seat, no headphones, one hour of hell on Earth.
The reason most of us get in the front is because we’re not sociopaths. We want to go along. It’s why we wear pants. It’s why we hold in farts when there’s no fat guy to blame it on. It’s why when you’re invited to a party and you’re not sure of the attire you text a friend to game plan. We naturally don’t want to rock the boat. The other reason we get in the front is that, as Uber passengers, we are being rated. I’m totally against this part of the experience. I get rating the driver. There’s an objective – get me to the place in a fair and equitable way. Maybe a driver will talk a bunch or maybe their music selection isn’t Beiber but if they get you there on time, you’re pretty much going to give a good rating.
But what makes a good passenger? There’s no objective for the driver. They can really only rate you on feel. And if you’re reading an article on PGP, then I’m assuming people feel a certain way about you. They see a guy in deal sleds and khaki pants and pale “my first job was at my dad’s company and that company card is attached to this Uber account” skin and they FEEL like rating you out of three stars instead of five. And none of that may be true. But that’s not the driver’s problem. That’s just your vibe. A vibe that tried to sit in the back.
For both of these reasons, an Uber is this driver’s chance to be a full-on preacher. You’re going to agree with whatever they say. My Hilton Head driver claimed hospitals put trackers in babies and, for about an hour, you would have thought I was going to join her in a full-on protest. Why? Because I’m being judged and I just want to get to the airport.
And all this is to say that I feel badly for Billy Bush. Yes, Billy “Give The Donald A Hug” Bush. The hug thing was a bit much. A guy just told you he grabs pussy and you basically tell a hot woman to get in close for some grabbing. I get why someone wouldn’t like Billy. But stop being shocked. I watched this whole thing about guys saying it’s not the locker room talk that they’ve ever heard. Yeah, I’ve never heard someone say they grab women like bowling balls but it’s not eons from things I HAVE heard. I’ve heard guys say they “Crush Puss” and that’s like a couple clicks away from Donald. These guys who are shocked sound like the girl who cheers a little too hard for a football game. We get it. You’re here. You’re fitting in. You love women. You think they should make the same as men and vote. You’re a hero who just made your lack of blowjobs my problem.
But we are not above Billy. Very few of us would have stopped Donald mid-“pussy grab” bragging to say that this isn’t in line with our sensibilities. When a crazy person says a crazy thing we go along. We nod. We stash it away. We go to our text chain and tell the tale of a crazy billionaire who is really creepy and has a weird way of hugging women. For a moment, we become the star of the text chain which feels pretty good. We get to tell a story that gives a guy a funny nickname like “Pussy Paws” or “Paw Pussy” or “Handsy” and then we go back to just going along. Not because we are bad people but because we are people. Very similar people who get in the front seat of an Uber when we are asked and then nod with whatever crazy thing the driver says. Because living is too hard to stop someone at every inaccuracy. Living is just acknowledging crazy, storing it for later, and laughing at them with your friends behind the crazy person’s back.
Good luck, Billy! Please let me sit in the back when you’re my Uber driver. .