DDS
continued from page 7
have the necessary certification to
drive the 15-person vans, so there
is never any bickering about who
gets to drive. I join up with driver
Jeremy Wayne and navigator Nora
Aaron in the aforementioned van
#4, and we hit the streets.
10:30 p.m. —We pick up our
first passengers, bound for Walton
Hall, at the University Commons
apartments. When one of the
women sees my notepad, she asks
what I’m doing. I explain to her
that I work for the Emerald and I’m
writing a story. She scowls at me.
For the remainder of her ride she
complains to me about how much
she hates journalism majors be
cause of their pretentiousness and
egotism. She discounts any of my
attempts to justify my profession.
As it turns out, she is a journalism
major too.
11 p.m. — We make a stop at fra
ternity house south of campus
where we pick up four women
(one holding fuzzy, pink bunny
ears) and a guy in a bathrobe. By
happenstance, one of the passen
gers went to high school with Jere
my, our driver, and reminisces at a
high volume about their student
council days. Another less satis
fied new passenger spends the ride
hugging “the bucket,” but the drive
back to the dorms remains spew
free. Upon the departure of the
passengers, Jeremy notes that the
more drunk people are, the faster
they want to get home, but you
have to drive slower so they don’t
puke. How paradoxical.
Just before midnight, we pick up
yet another residence hall-bound
passenger who thinks that now
would be the best time to call her
best friend in Montana on her cell
phone. Go figure.
Midnight — “Old Nick,” a for
mer DDS employee, has called in
and we go for the pick up. The
name apparently comes from the
fact that he is older than 22, which
in college terms is ancient.. He
spends the ride petting Nora’s hair
and talking about getting all of us
drinks. Instead, he leaves us the
first tip of the night: $2. Not long
after, one of the DDS “regulars”
gives us our second tip because we
were playing Pink Floyd. It was
the “Pulse” album.
1 a.m. — We drop off a group of
people celebrating Libby’s 19th
birthday. One of them pointed out
that “a tip” is “pita” spelled back
ward and they accused us of trying
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to subconsciously sell pitas. Dis
patch checks in. The radio banter
has been surprisingly dull tonight,
but that is coming from a guy who
would fill the airwaves with
“breaker breaker one-niner blah
blah blah.” Our two new passen
gers take it upon themselves to liv
en up the radio conversation by
mimicking all the jargon. They
give us a tip.
1:30 a.m. — The van pulls in
front of another anonymous frater
nity for the third pick-up this
evening. They make a short trip
that they easily could have
walked. After they leave, Jeremy
comments that “these people are
just cold, not drunk.”
2 a.m. — Things start to pick up
after Jeremy and Nora make a
quick pit stop at 7-11 for some Big
Gulps. The van goes over to High
Street to make a pick-up and get a
transfer passenger who is going out
to Willagillespie Road, our greatest
distance of the evening. We drop
off a passenger and go get three
more from Max’s Tavern. The third
stumbles out still holding his
drink and the bartender rushes out
to retrieve the glass. He determines
that he likes me as soon as he gets
in the van but asserts, “I’m not gay
or nothing.”
He is wearing a red ball cap with
the bill flipped up and has curly,
blonde hair shooting out from un
derneath. His name, he tells us, is
Casey, but everybody calls him
“Cheese.” He inquires if we can
“rock Taco Bell” so he can get
some bean burritos with green
sauce. He discounts his friend’s
suggestion of Jack in the Box as be
ing “too hepitital” and “mad-cow.”
Speaking of bad food, Van #3 gets
the first vomit award at 2:16 a.m.;
it was also the only one of the
evening. When we get to the drive
through at 2:20 a.m., Cheese is
generous enough to purchase food
for me and some of the other pas
sengers, which is a good thing be
cause I was getting really hungry.
3 a.m. — To my disappointment,
Cheese has left us. We are up near
Hendricks Park for the second
time picking up some stragglers
from a party. Since the last calls of
the evening are coming in, we
drive around for a while picking
everyone up before dropping any
body off. This creates the longest
passenger waits of the evening, but
they aren’t more than 15 to 20
minutes. I guess that is a small
price to pay for not having to walk
home drunk and cold at three in
the morning.
3:30 a.m. — The last passenger
is dropped off, the car is parked
and we head back to the ASUO of
fice to clock out. Jeremy and Nora
walk away with an extra $4 apiece
from the tip jar.
While the night was by no
means boring, it was a little slow
by DDS standards. The actual ex
perience went by surprisingly fast,
considering that in the same
amount of time I could have driv
en to Seattle. I give my thanks and
my appreciation to the students
who make this service possible.
While riding along once was fun, it
would drive most people mad in a
month. So for heaven’s sake, give
them a tip the next time you ride
DDS — or at least take them to
Taco Bell.
WWW , J
dailyemerald
.com