Sometimes, Saturdays in June my car fills up with wedding people. Mostly, guests — who are always late — or bachelor-night girls seeking places of ill repute. In my day, we tiptoed into Chippendales, which I thought had gone out of business, but it appears in Las Vegas. My UBER doesn’t go that far, but I would if someone asked for a ride, just before taking that final single ride.
So, on an ordinary Saturday, I got a ‘ping’ that announced I had a ride waiting, but it would take 21 minutes to get there. I must have been the only UBER driver out that day. I drove all the way through San Clemente, took a short-cut on La Pata and ended up in a nice housing development on the edge of Lake Elsinore.
There were two men, plus a son. They all carried boxes, hanging clothes, and briefcases.
“We’re going to get married,” the man who slid into the shotgun seat.
“All of you?”
“Oh, no, just the guy in the back.”
The ‘guy in the back and his son nodded. I asked, “Would you like to stop anywhere, just one more single event?”
“No, I think I’m ready for this.”
We then headed back across San Clemente, up into Talega, to a house, where a throng of family were waiting.
“Don’t forget anything,” I offered. “If you do, I could always go back to your house and pick up what you’ve left behind.”
“We’ve got everything we need. If we don’t need it anyway.”
I wished them good luck and took off.
It looked like it was going to rain.
But, it didn’t.