The Wet Passenger, the Flat Earth, and the Stories We Never See.

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One of the things I’ve learned driving for Uber is that no one simply gets into your car.
They bring their world with them. They bring their own world with them.
Their worries…Their celebrations…Their opinions…Their stories
Sometimes…their baggage.

And occasionally, quite literally, their wet clothes.

The other night I started my shift hoping for something simple. A peaceful evening. A few ordinary conversations. Nothing too exciting.

The first couple of rides were exactly that.

Then I accepted a pickup from one of those places in town where I usually brace myself before I even arrive. Once you’ve accepted a ride, you don’t always know exactly who you’re picking up, and I don’t like canceling because it affects my ratings.

As I pulled up, I saw a gentleman waiting for me. He was swaying just enough to tell me he’d had a long night, but smiling as though he’d just won the lottery. He climbed into the back seat, closed the door, and before I even put the car in drive, he said, “I’m going to be the passenger you didn’t want in your car tonight.”

I laughed. “And why’s that?”

He smiled and said, “Because I’m dripping wet. Your seat’s going to be soaked.”

For just a split second, I could feel my blood pressure rising. Instead, I reached into the back seat, handed him a towel, and said, “Well, let’s put this under you so the next passenger doesn’t have to sit in your water.”

Thankfully, it was a short ride.

After he got out, I pulled over, wiped the seat down, looked toward heaven, and quietly prayed, “Lord…please don’t let this be a preview of the rest of my night.”

It wasn’t…It was merely the opening act.

Later that evening, I accepted a ride from Pismo Beach to Avila.

Four ladies climbed into the car that had clearly enjoyed a few drinks. The One Sitting behind me had apparently made a personal decision that volume was no longer necessary to control.

Throughout the drive her friends kept saying, “Use your inside voice.”

Which was fascinating to me because these weren’t elementary school children. They were grown women.

Every time they’d remind her, she’d respond at exactly the same volume, “I AM using my inside voice!”

Somehow our conversation drifted toward the rocket launches from Vandenberg. She asked what I thought about them.

I told her they were becoming common enough that they didn’t bother me much anymore.

She immediately leaned forward. “They’re fake.”

I wasn’t quite sure where this was headed.

“They don’t go to space,” she confidently explained. “They always go up and then turn to the right.”

Before I could respond, one of her friends gently said, “Well…the Earth is round…”

I quickly learned that this was the wrong answer.

For the next ten minutes, I found myself in the middle of the most passionate explanation of the flat-earth theory I’d ever heard. Except it wasn’t just flat.

According to her, the Earth is more like…a pizza. Flat in the middle. Rounded around the edges.And somehow it all spins together.

She genuinely wanted my opinion. “So what do you think?” “Is it round?” “Flat?” “Like a beach ball?” “Like a pizza?”

Meanwhile, her friends were laughing so hard they could barely breathe. One finally looked at me and said, “Don’t answer.” I gladly accepted her advice.

A few minutes later we arrived in Avila, everyone climbed out laughing, and I sat there for a second collecting my thoughts.

When I first started driving Uber, I thought my job was taking people from one place to another. I’ve realized that’s only part of it.

For a few minutes, people invite you into their world. Some worlds are joyful. Some are hurting. Some are lonely. Some are filled with questions. Some are convinced the Earth is shaped like a pizza.

And for those few minutes, you have a choice. You can become irritated by the interruption…or curious about the person.

Not every ride changes your life. Most don’t.
But almost every ride reminds me of something important.
Every person who climbs into my car is carrying a story I’ll never fully know.
Maybe that’s true long before they ever open the door.
Maybe that’s true of every person we meet.

Sometimes the greatest lesson isn’t learning who’s right.
Sometimes it’s simply remembering that everyone is carrying a world you cannot see.

And if you keep your eyes open…
…even an ordinary Uber shift can remind you to look at people with a little more grace.

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Maybe There’s More to the Story: A Faith Reflection

If I’m honest, my first reaction to both of those rides wasn’t compassion. It was inconvenience.

A soaking wet passenger meant a wet seat. A loud conversation about flat-earth theories meant twenty minutes of wondering how quickly I could get to the destination.

In those moments, it’s easy to reduce people to whatever they’re bringing into your life.
“The drunk guy.”
“The loud lady.”
“The conspiracy theorist.”
“The difficult customer.”

But isn’t that exactly what we so often do outside of an Uber, too? Someone cuts us off in traffic. A coworker snaps at us. A cashier seems impatient. A stranger posts something online that makes us shake our heads. Without realizing it, we begin writing an entire story about someone based on one chapter we’ve happened to witness.

The truth is, we almost never know what happened before they crossed our path. We don’t know what burdens they’re carrying. We don’t know what heartbreak they’re hiding. We don’t know what fears they’re trying to outrun. Or what prayers they’re hoping someone else will answer.

Jesus had a remarkable habit of seeing what everyone else overlooked. While others saw a tax collector, He saw Matthew. While others saw a woman caught in sin, He saw someone worth restoring. While others saw blind beggars, lepers, and outcasts, Jesus saw people created in the image of God. He looked beyond behavior and saw the person.

I wonder how often God is inviting me to do the same.

Maybe the challenge isn’t agreeing with everyone. It’s remembering that every person bears God’s image – even when their opinions seem bizarre, their personalities are exhausting, or their lives are messy.

Grace doesn’t require agreement. But it does require seeing people as people. That doesn’t mean every conversation will be meaningful. Some will simply be funny. Some will leave you scratching your head. Some might even involve pizza-shaped planets.

But if we ask God to help us see people the way He does, we’ll discover that every encounter becomes an opportunity – not just to share a ride, but to reflect Christ. Because maybe the greatest destination God has in mind isn’t where someone is going…It’s who we’re becoming along the way.

“The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” — 1 Samuel 16

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