Hey! Who's Up for RideShare?

I find carpooling annoying.  Maybe it’s just the people I’ve chosen to drive into work with.  I can’t stand being dependent on someone else’s schedule.  I hate waiting.  Carpooling to me is the equivalent of a gourmet version of the public transportation experience. It sucks. Regardless, I did carpool at one point with a coworker. 

It all came to pass one day in an office small talk conversation. We realized we lived near each other.  That revelation led to a half-hearted comment by me, “Hey!  Maybe some days we can drive into work together.  You know, save on gas!”

Stupid me.  He took me up on the offer.  And next thing I knew, I found myself stopping and waiting in his driveway the following morning for pick up. 

Here’s what I learned from my foray into carpooling.  Make sure your fellow commuter has good hygiene.  My passenger reeked.  No really.  Like he just took a dump, didn’t air out, slapped on some Brut cologne on the way out the door stunk.  Dirty butt if you will. 

If I had only unwittingly shared a car with him prior to my dumb comment about driving into work together, I would have made sure to shut my trap.  But I didn’t, so I was stuck. 

I wondered if he could see me mutter, “Goddamn it.  WASH YOUR ASS! Get some soap up there, you smelly mother fucker.”, as he walked from my car to his front door.  I didn’t care. 

As much as he stunk up the interior of my car on a daily basis, he seemed to take extra care to bathe on days he drove. Yes, still heavy on the cologne perhaps, but no ass smell.  Pissed me right off.  I guess he figured his car was worth the effort.  He had a brand new Infinity J30….grey with a light cream interior.  It was immaculate.

Anyway, one morning as I walked up to his car, I slipped on some wet leaves.  I regained my balance and climbed into his car.  He had the heat cranked.  Boiling hot.  And I was shocked that the interior of his car on this morning smelled like ass.

Driving into work that morning I remember thinking to myself, “Hey asshole, it’s not unpleasant enough in here.  Can you crank the heat a little higher?  You know.  Make it nice and cozy as I bathe in your excrement…” 

Finally we arrived at the parking garage.  I was dying for fresh air and at the same time praying the nasty smell had not permeated my suit.  Upon leaving his car however, I glanced down at the passenger side floor mat. It was covered in dog shit.  “What the hell?” I thought to myself until I mentally flashed back 20 minutes earlier to that ‘slip’ on the way into his car.  Dog shit….all over the fucking place. 

My shoe was actually buffed clean thanks to that car mat.  I could tell by the spirograph shaped circular patterns that I had given it a healthy dose of the brown stuff too.  And internally I was absolutely dying laughing. 

I didn’t go home with him that evening…opted to go to a bar with friends.  But I knew he was going to make that unpleasant discovery so I needed to (literally) cover my tracks. 

That night, I left him a voicemail.  “Hi, it’s Trina.  Just wanted to touch base…I realized there was dog poop on my shoe and wasn’t sure whether it happened this morning or on my way home!”  As though downtown city streets were covered in dog shit mine fields…

About 20 minutes later I got a call back from his number, but let it go to voicemail.  “Hi Trina.  Just came in from the garage.  I’ve been cleaning my car mat for the past hour.  I was so pissed I almost dropped it off at your place for you to clean.”  No joke.   That’s what he said. 

I think we commuted together maybe another month or so before our schedules ‘conveniently’ didn’t work out. 

That’s my story for today.  Profound and enlightening isn’t it?  But in closing, ask yourself this…What’s worse?  Me putting dog crap in his car, or my thinking it smelled like him?

Enough said…