Pocket Dispatch from a Lyft
I drive Lyft on the side for a few reasons: A little extra income, practice driving in the city, and the chance to meet interesting strangers. I sign on when the platform is busiest, incentivized by bonuses from Lyft and the prospect of the people I’ll encounter on their way to work or a night out.
I like when I first start, full of energy and close to home. The first person I pick up tends to be someone who lives nearby, and sometimes we have a lot in common—favorite bars, music venues, lifestyles.
Last Thursday, my first ride was a guy about my age named Paul. I picked him up from an apartment only a couple streets over from my own. He wasn’t going far, and for the first few minutes of the ride he was silent.
Then he commented on the music, which I choose carefully.
“Is this Aphex Twin?”
A portal of possibility flew open. Aphex Twin is one of the best known IDM, or alternative electronic, musicians of the last three decades. But to reference him is still a badge of a subculture.
“No, actually it’s an artist I just discovered called Kodomo,” I said. “But the drum sounds are totally Aphex Twin’s style. That thin snare and the drum-and-bass style beat is totally “Flim,” I said, flexing my knowledge of the Aphex Twin catalog. “From the—what’s that, um…” I pretended not to know. “Come to Daddy EP.”
“Right! Yeah,” Paul said.
“Kodomo came up as a recommendation based on all the Tycho and Bonobo and other guys from Ghostly and Ninja Tune and… Warp I’m always listening to,” I said, searching for another opening.
Paul didn’t say anything.
So I didn’t say anything for a minute.
I heard his jacket whistle as he pulled something out of pocket, then the inside of the car glowed softly with cool light from Paul’s phone.
“I’m loving getting back out to shows,” I said. “Have you seen any lately?”
“Yeah, I’m almost there,” he said.
I didn’t quite understand. “Sorry?”
“Hang on,” he said. “Hey man, sorry, I’m actually on the phone.”
“Oh. Of course!” I held up a hand of understanding.
We were getting close to his destination. There wasn’t much time left, and he wasn’t hanging up. I checked the address and looked for an opening near the curb to drop him off.
After sliding into a spot, I put the car in park and looked at Paul in the rear view mirror. He was holding his phone to his face but hadn’t said anything in a while.
Then he met my eye. “Thanks, man.” He turned to open the door, and I noticed his phone screen was lighting up his cheek with a white dial screen.
The door closed hard. I pulled away and drove, waiting for the app to connect me with a rider.