R IS FOR RAP FANS

R IS FOR RAP FANS

OK, it's official.  I have the greatest job in the world.

You like yours?  Yeah?  When was the last time people chanted your name?

It had been a long day.  Four trips, the last up north to a rap concert featuring Lil Wayne and Drake.  Now I yield to no man in my total indifference to... nay, repulsion for... rap.  Combine an urban experience with which I have little or nothing in common, with blatant sexism, violent posing and repetitive, unoriginal obscenity... and I'm out.

However...

... When I came back to town I got a fifth call.  Cool.  Bonus $ time.  (Oh, wait a minute.  Money is a rap trope.  So maybe I'm not so alien to the culture.  Dig me.)

Anyway, I picked up four guys downtown, and that's when the fun began.

Sarcasm not intended.

As is my wont, I asked them where they were going.  The concert, they said.  To see a couple of guys I wouldn't know anything about.

My response: "You mean Drake and Lil Wayne?"

(Parenthetical:  despite my aversion to rap, I pride myself on eclectic tastes.  Which is to say, I can bullshit anybody on any subject for five minutes or so.)

The car erupted in cheers.  From one young man:  "See?  Never assume."

From another: "OK, I know it's early.  But you're the leading candidate for my favorite uber driver."

From me:  "Let's see if we can lock that down."

I mentioned that Lil Wayne had the home field advantage, because he's American and Drake is from Canada.  (The extent of my knowledge of these two individuals.)

More whoops.  

One guy held up his cell phone "You mind if we listen?"  I said no problem, but I'm not sure if I can activate the Bluetooth.  So I turned on Sirius.

Semi-orgasmic shouts.  "He's got SIRIUS!!!"

Original guy: "That nails it.  You're going down as my favorite driver EVER!"

They turned on a rap station.  Began dancing in place.

What the hell, I thought.  Let's close this deal.

I turned it up.

A moment of shocked silence.  Then, almost as one, they yelled, "HE TURNED IT UP!  HE TURNED IT UP!!"

And that's when it happened.  The car rocked with the sound of it.

"CHRIS!  CHRIS!  CHRIS!  CHRIS!  CHRIS!  CHRIS!  CHRIS!  CHRIS! "

Suddenly, I was Peyton Manning after his sixth TD pass.

And then we were there.  They clambered out of the car.  One forced a few bucks on me, despite the fact that tipping is unnecessary.

And they were gone, all of us agreeing wordlessly that we'd had one hell of a good time.  And not one of them realized how far across the chasm I'd reached.  

And I couldn't have given a mother******* sh** less.

Onward through the fog...