What Is It With Me and Drunk Welsh Guys?

8/31/18
 I have finished my first week of school. My course load is heavy, and my one class is going to make my life very interesting. They haven't learned that I eat kids like them for lunch, but they will. Very soon. I had headed out to make a bit of cash since I have a long weekend for Labor Day. Long weekends= opportunities for extra money. I wasn't looking for an eventful evening, but on Lyft it is always a possibility.
It happened. I got my first creeper. The first request of the evening was farther out than I expected, but hey every night has to start somewhere.
The GPS took me out into an industrial park hidden out in dark corn fields. I pulled up to a distribution center to see twenty trucks lined up and curving out of sight down the road to make deliveries to this place. My rider was waiting by the side of the road. I verified his identity and he got in. We exchanged cordial greetings.
"I need ATM, you bring me there then back here and I give you ten dollars,"he said as he buckled in. His accent was very thick and made him hard to understand but I got the idea.
Wow, that's a big tip. Ok.
"Are you making a delivery?" I said as I tried to pull around a huge Mack truck jutting out into the roadway.
"Yes," he said distractedly. "They unload now, but I have no cash to pay. I need ATM. You take me, I get cash so I can pay."
"Ok, I'll get you there," I reassured him.
I checked the navigation and saw that we were only going a minute or two up the road to a big shopping center. Still, it was almost midnight. Everything there was closed. I hoped there was an exterior ATM in there he could access.
I pulled into the shopping center, and he began to ask me questions. "Is this downtown? This like downtown? This busy place?"
It was then that I figured he was not local, as this place was a well known fancy shmancy glorified outdoor mall unique only because it was located in the middle of nowhere. And it certainly looked like nowhere because all of the shops were closed, parking lots were empty, and only the street lights illuminated the place. It looked a bit zombie apocalypse-ish.
"Where is it? Maybe other side?" he asked. I could tell he was getting a bit desperate. "Is Wells Fargo?"
Okay, yes, I remembered there was a Wells Fargo somewhere in there. I pulled around the other side and glanced down the block. HA!
"There it is!" I triumphantly turned down the block and pulled up to the ATM. He jumped out, completed his transaction, and jumped back in.
This is where it turned a bit...weird.
I turned the car around and headed back out of the shopping center.
"You drive all night?" he asked.
I get that question a lot, so I answered, "No, I'll probably head home around two."
He was quiet for a second.
"You leave alone?"he ventured.
"Leave?" I was confused. Then, I realized he meant "live". He was asking if I lived alone. First, he asks when I get off work, then he asks if I live alone. He was now leaning in between the seats and looking at me. Moment of realization: I am alone in a dark car out in the middle of nowhere with a man who is asking when I get off work and if I live alone and he has just inched closer to me.
Ladies, you know that feeling. That feeling that you get when a man is hinting at a proposition, and the inkling that he might not take "no, thank you" for an answer.
Creeped.
Out.
"No," I quickly answered hoping I sounded natural. "I live with my husband."
I am a single-crazy-cat-lady-artist-teacher. I spun a tale of my husband who worked at a pharmaceutical company making good money but that we struggled a bit so I had to work extra hours driving. In mere seconds, I painted a picture of a dog loving couple who were happily married and that he was home waiting for me.
The rider listened, and then laughed and said "He like you make more money than him!"
We pulled back up to the distribution center, and the line of trucks was even longer. I had to drive up the wrong way with my caution lights on. As I neared the entrance, he asks me, "You have ten dollars? Machine only give me twenties."
"No," I replied. "Drivers get paid and tipped through the app most of the time. I don't carry cash."
"Through the app?" he was unbuckling his seat belt. "Ok."
So much for my ten dollar tip.
He got out, I said goodnight, and he walked down the line of trucks pulling into the center.
I blazed a trail away from there back to civilization.
I have never been scared when I driving, so this was a first. But as I drove away, I reflected on it. Was I actually creeped out by him, or just the idea that a man was propositioning me? It has been a really long time, though I have to admit it was not in a dark car in the middle of sprawling corn fields. Actually, I'm pretty sure this situation has never happened to me before. I have not dated anyone in years, and it had been even longer since a man seriously hit on me.The worst one was from a Welsh guy in Dubai who drunkenly leaned into me and said "Yer cute. You should come back ta my place an' make me dinner." Apparently, that was what he considered a legit chat up line. Drunk Welsh guys. Sheesh.

Which brings us to our next story of the night.

I drove back toward downtown. It was almost 1am, and usually I am home by midnight but the night had been slow so I wanted to make a bit more money. I parked by a bar and waited a few minutes. The request came in and it was only one minute away.
I pulled up to the bar, hit "arrive" and put my four ways on. I looked around for my rider.
A man standing in the middle of the lane in front of the bar's outdoor tables waved at me to pull up. Alright, you can't walk the ten feet to the car so I am not sitting in traffic as you get in. Fine.
I pulled up, put down the window, and verified his identity. He got into the front seat. Rather, he lurched into the front seat and flumped down. I started to pull away, and the warning sound beeped for him to buckle up. He said something unintelligible and started to fumble for the seatbelt, but then stopped, put the window down and leaned out to yell...something...didn't sound like English...at his friends.
"My team," he smiled at me as he put the window back up and fastened his seatbelt.
I flipped through the navigation to see where I was taking him.
"Itsa Best Western," he slurred as he peered at my phone. "I think."
I suppressed a giggle, "You're not sure?"
Oh, boy. This will be an adventure if he can't remember where he is staying. I pictured us wandering the city aimlessly checking every Best Western in a few miles' radius to find his lodging.
"Best Western," he said again, squinting his eyes at the phone. "One of those."
"There are lots of hotels around here, and more than one Best Western," I told him. "The one nearby is actually situated near a couple of hotels."
He eyed me in a drunken stupor.
"We'll find it," I reassured him with a smile, committing to whatever was going to happen as I began to follow the GPS.
His head went down, and as I drove I wondered if he had passed out. A minute later, his head popped up.
"They're my team," he added to his previous statement. "Those guys."
"Oh?" I encouraged him to elaborate even it if only meant he would not pass out in my car. "What sport?"
Turns out he is a soccer player, or football as it is called in Europe. I asked what team, and he said it was not yet official so he could not tell me. He looked out the window and was quiet for a minute.
"Ok, I'll tell ya," he turned back at me and grinned. "It's Leeds United."
"Oh, for England, then?" I was surprised. He did not sound English, and I had been trying to place his accent. Russian? Spanish? He was drunk, and heavily accented so I was having no luck.
"Yeah, and everyone tonight was so nice an' all tonight," he stumbled over his words a bit, "but they all was acting like I was English and talking to me like I was English. Am not. Am Welsh."
"That's why I can't understand a word you're saying!" fell out of my mouth before I could stop it. "Of course, you're Welsh! I've been to Wales, I should have caught that."
The Welsh are hard to understand when they are sober. All bets are off when they are drunk. And this guy being a footballer, it looked as if he had drunk his weight in beer as footballers in the UK do. Yeah, maybe it is a bit stereotypical but this guy was sure fitting the bill.
Luckily, he was too drunk to catch my faux pas, and said, "Yeah, Leeds United, is my passion. What I live for."
I said I knew very little about football, as I do not follow it though some of my students did. I told him I was a little familiar with Manchester United and Liverpool.
"Where?" he asked.
"Manchester," I repeated.
"Where?" he asked with a silly smile.
"Oh, c'mon," I laughed.
"Don't even talk about them," he said stubbornly.
I mentioned that one of my student's favorite players is Cristian Ronaldo, and he asked if the student was gay because Ronaldo is such a "pretty boy." I had forgotten how strong football loyalties run in the UK. I just left that alone. I can't hold my own in an argument about football. Especially with a drunk Welsh guy.
Well, I have a real live UK footballer in my car. Neat. At least I hoped it would stay neat and he wouldn't lose his dinner in my front passenger seat.
His head went down again, chin dropping to his chest. No snoring. Just quiet.
Quiet for a minute at least, so I could concentrate on driving. I stopped at the red light and flipped forward through the GPS again.
His head popped up.
"There's a red sign," he stated. He looked at me expectantly. He looked so serious, but with a twinkle in his eye.
"Yes, there is," I looked back at him. I was trying not to laugh in his face, this Welsh Captain Obvious. He nodded and looked out the window.
He was fairly subdued the rest of the way, commenting about how it is so busy and noisy. He said Wales was like PA, very green though where he was from was quieter. I told him I had been to Wales, and agreed that PA was similar though noisier.
I pulled into the spot indicated on the navigation where several hotels squatted in the dark off the highway. We drove past an odd assortment of people loitering in the middle of the parking lot.
"What the !@#$?" he blustered.
He looked back at them, and began to look around, "It's one o' these, am sure...(unintelligible)...come have a beer."
Well, let's see if he's alert enough to find his hotel. I had not seen a Best Western, and had driven by two hotels already when I saw a Best Western sign in front of one of them.
"Alrigh, darlin' this is the one," he stated sounding somewhat confident, then not so much, "I think."
"Are you sure?" I asked. "I'll wait if you want to go in and make sure."
He kind of rolled his head over and looked at me, "Nah, I'm sure, love."
He reached out to shake my hand.
"Nice to meet you, darlin," he slurred a bit but seemed genuine. He opened the door and the interior light came on. He started to slide out and then looked back at me, as if seeing me for the first time.
He stuck out his hand again.
Okay. We already did this, but okay.
"Nice meeting you, darlin," he said again.
He slid out of the car, turned around, and held out his hand. Again.
I stifled a giggle.
"Have a good night, love," he said and he turned and looked out at the hotel, then turned back. "It's a thing, like we say 'darlin' and 'love' where I come from like...(unintelligible)."
"Yeah, I know, thank you and take care," I smiled at him. He closed the door. I let him get a few feet before letting out a chuckle.
Then, I got worried about him stumbling into the hotel and checked my rearview mirror, just in time to see him walking between my car and the car behind me. He yelled something at them, put his foot out and kicked their bumper before stumbling off. The guys in the car yelled something at him, but fortunately did not get out of their car to pursue him.
A Welsh-born football hooligan.
Strange things happen in the nexus of the universe where I live at 1am as the summer ends. I noticed some leaves falling on my car as I drove home.I closed my Lyft and Stride apps, rated my passengers, and checked my earnings.

And just has he had promised, the truck driver who desperately had needed an ATM at midnight had tipped me ten dollars. For a four dollar ride.