My First Barfer.


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And it came to pass that after marking my first anniversary of service to The Travis and having well over 1100 frowzy bums of all shapes, sizes and ethnicities desecrating the back seat of your correspondant's family chariot, I was feeling mightily blessed by the gods of rideshare for having never to experience the sight of the foul smelling, bio-hazardous contents of a pax's stomach after imbibing copious amounts of grog. Many are the tales woe from Uber drivers of all municipalities, distant and near, of having to clean up the results of a pax's emesis and hoping with fingers crossed that the dim-witted, CSR minions of The Travis will condescend to paying them sufficient quantities of lucre to have the upholstery of their chariot professionally detailed. Indeed I was feeling most pleased with myself for having, by some miracle, avoided this head-ache.

But lo! It was not to last! The gods of rideshare having observed my proud, airs, decided it was high time for me to experience the same comeuppance visited upon my Uber driving brethren and sistren.

It was Saturday night that found me prowling the streets of downtown Toronto when at 11:30 pm, I pulled up to yonder watering-hole called Pravda Vodka Bar on Wellington Street. Waiting there were two young lasses, one Caucasian and one Asian. I had conditioned myself that should I observe any pax approaching my ride with grog-induced, unsure footing, or worse, actually being carried by companions to my ride, that I would save myself and my upholstery heart-ache by hitting the cancel button and drive away speedily as if chased by the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. But alas the gods of rideshare would see to it that before dawn cometh, I would be humbled of my self-righteous thinking. Both young ladies came to my car sure of foot.

After turning south on Yonge Street, not even 1 minute good of starting the trip, the Caucasian girl asked, somewhat embarrassed: “Do you have a shopping bag?” At that point I squinted my eyes and muttered under my breath: “Oh shit!” It appeared that her Asian girlfriend (for it seemed to me that they were of the sisterhood who have no desire for the phalus nor the 2 Testosterone factories that accompany it) had imbibed more grog than she could manage. Your correspondent is in the habit of being prepared for just such emergencies though hoping I would never have to reach into the glove-compartment and pull out one of a handful of shopping bags I keep therein. I passed said bag to the occupants of my back seat. In no time I heard the sound of one whose stomach has unilaterally decided to “reverse gears” and send EVERYTHING that came down to it back up from whence it came. I was hoping that ALL contents of the Asian's stomach would find it's way into the shopping bag provided. But as I'm sure you can guess, it was not to be so.

At the destination, the Caucasian meekly passed me a tip of 8 dollars which I tepidly accepted though my better judgement was telling me not to take it. Your correspondent drove a short ways down the road and stopped to so as to inspect the rear seating area of the chariot to ensure continued use for the rest of the night. But as you can imagine, there looking back at me, was a healthy load of barf on my back seat. I take pride in the fact that I am usually a Gentleman of tempered speech, but on this occasion, I am embarrassed to admit that I was cursing like a fisherman in my native, Patois dialect. “Is why di bumbo-claat dis gyal couldn't barf inna di bar washroom before shi come inna mi cyar?” I hang my head in shame.

After two photographs sent to the minions of The Travis, the Mothership sent word via email that I would be compensated to the tune of $100 toward the fees for professional detailing. Nevertheless, in order that the stains not become too imbedded into the fabric, I proceeded to yonder do-it-yourself car wash featuring coin operated upholstery shampoo equipment to get out as much of detritus.

You may consider your corespondent chastened.


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I had 5 people in my ride all exit and barf after the first two did so on the inside. I had It cleaned on a friday, that Saturday O had two more different fares do the same inside. Get some son.

george r Buford

New Member
Had one new years. Her friend pawned this horrible woman and poor 8 yo off on. Me. She drunkly cussed me the entire ride. After puking out my window the first 10 minutes. Luckily she's been my only horror story


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My first puker was a teen girl who I picked up at a Middle School at 8:30pm. She was able to hold it down, for the most part. I didn't think she got anything in the car but a while later I smelled it. There was just a dribble on the side of the door. But that was enough to stink up the car.

My second puker was a middle aged woman, who, fortunately, was able to keep her head out the window for about ten miles on the freeway. Her husband tipped me $15 (plus a $20 bill that fell out of his pocket.) And I was able to rinse off the outside of my car at the gas station and continue Ubering on!


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Could of done without the theatrics.
"Could have done without the theatrics"

Sorry, using "should of" instead of the grammatically correct "Should have" is one of my pet peeves. The word "of" is never used after the word "should" in any context.

Feel free to curse me out now.

BTW...I haven't driven a puker yet, and not looking forward to it.


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After puking out my window the first 10 minutes. Luckily she's been my only horror story
My second puker...was able to keep her head out the window for about ten miles on the freeway. And I was able to rinse off the outside of my car at the gas station and continue Ubering on!
I would much prefer they do that than barf on my upholstery. It takes 2 minutes max to wash off the side of the car with a power washer and Uber on. The upholstery calls for more work and I have to take the car out of service until the seats dry. Lost revenues.