A Vampire's Nightly Dash

Just after sunset on a rainy Friday: I was supposed to be at Burger King by now but traffic was so backed up I hadn't gotten into the driveway of the fast food restaurant. I was so close! The building was right there, teasing me through the thin rain coating everything in a film of wet. The day was gray and dim and cold and that combined with the fact I wasn't sure what would happen to my car if I left it in the road while I jogged in and grabbed my client's order kept me in the car. And yes. I know that is a major combination of words, but I was in a major bind. All I could do was text my dash and let them know the traffic was delaying me. I had tried calling and leaving a message but there had been no answer and no voicemail box set up. My favorite kind of person. Sigh. I was excited for this order. After waiting for over an hour in the Burger King parking lot, broke and hungry, this order had come in and been labeled as high paying. A whopping $22! The order itself was huge, seven large combos of various kinds and one milkshake. I was going to have to buckle the drinks in the backseat in their cupholders. But that money would get me gas and food and I was grateful. At least this person knew how to tip. Most either didn't or didn't have the money. In my opinion if you didn't have the money to tip, you didn't have the money to order DoorDash and you should learn to cook. There are plenty of YouTubers and blogs and cooking websites these days to learn from. People's laziness was my bread and butter but ordering $30+ in pizza or cheeseburgers or whatever and not tipping isn't just wrong or rude, it should be illegal. I guess it’s pointless to think about but I’m bored and anxious sitting here in traffic and unable to get in touch with my customer. I let the Dasher app know what is happening and hopefully it won’t affect my ratings. I’m not sure how I’m going to get in contact with the customer when they won’t pick up the phone. Maybe it’s dead? I have no idea. I changed the book I was playing and continued tapping my steering wheel for the next ten minutes. Friday, Same night, 20 minutes later: I was almost to my client’s house twenty minutes later when I got a text from them asking where I was using less than polite language. Fucking assholes. Contrary to popular belief, cursing does not make me go faster. Also I cannot ensure that your order is “made fresh”. If I tell the staff you want everything fresh they cannot do anything. I have tried. The living were so entitled. On the other side of things there were customers that “grandma-ed” me. And by that I mean they fuss at me with concern if I trip or if the weather is bad. Since I was driving on flooding roads and working on pulling into their driveway I didn’t respond right away. The yard was packed with cars and all the lights were on in the house. The rain was still present and didn’t seem to be leaving any time soon. I parked and pulled my jacket hood up. This was one of the many times I was glad I was undead. As a vampire I couldn’t get sick from running around in the rain. The traffic had been horrible between the drivers rushing to get home, the slick roads, and the darkness. I narrowly avoided accidents involving pedestrians and vehicles alike. And let's not forget about the flooding roads. Have I mentioned the flooding? There are trenches on either side of the roads. They range in depth from about three feet deep to six feet deep and in some cases the water was flowing over the roads like they weren't there. I do not have an amphibious vehicle so I do not risk fording flooded streets like a pioneer on the Oregon Trail. I was never good at that game and always drowned. Thankfully this house was not flooded but it was a near thing. I grabbed my phone and read the extra delivery instructions: “Call me when you arrive. I’ll help you get it all into the house.” Which was awesome because not only was the red bag full but the extra thermal bag I kept in the car for busy nights was full too. I didn’t need help, but I wasn’t going to risk my rating for pride. I called. It was a short, but polite conversation. A surprisingly polite conversation considering the earlier texts. Two people came jogging out of the house to my car while I was getting out. And I realized why there were so many cars and so much food. I was at a werewolf house. I could tell by the familiar feral dog smell. It was especially strong because of the weather. I gave a friendly smile and started unloading the food into the two eager werewolves’ arms. As I did, more came out like a flood. Like I could smell them they could smell the food and the pack was all too eager to help get their prize into the house. One paused with the last bag in hand and thrust a wad of bills at me. “Thank ya so much fa getting here in this weather. I know it’s a lot. We got an extra tip together fa ya,” she said and handed me a folded bundle of money. “No problem. Thanks. Have a good night!,” I said as I shoved the money into my wallet and put my bags back into the car to hide the fact I was trying not to gag. All told the delivery took about five minutes and soon I was back on the road with my dasher app paused. I had thirty-five minutes now where I wouldn’t get an order. Now the question was, where did I want to go? I had money for lunch and dinner before the night really started popping. Well, my version of lunch and dinner. Nocturnal life took some getting used to. What I really wanted was to try something new, but I didn’t have time for that. Fast food then. Wendy’s had a smoothie that I really liked that would hit the spot and keep me going into the wee hours. And I could call my girlfriend and check in on her. Friday, same night, 30 minutes later: The rest of my dashes were pretty ordinary. Hell most of them were no contact deliveries that just wanted me to leave the food at the door. I had a couple good tip orders in some amazing neighborhoods, but around midnight the orders turned to the poorer parts of town with no tip. Occasionally I'd return to the good part of town for a tipless order. Those were the ones that really irritated me. Usually they were a waste of my gas. DoorDash doesn’t reimburse that for its drivers. Around 4am I went home with my shopping. My two Mainecoon cats, Duchess and Annie, got up from their full rug impersonation sprawl on my living room rug to greet me. My live-in girlfriend, Izzy, had already gone to bed and I could hear her snoring in our bedroom. “Hey babies. I’m home,” I whispered as I kneeled and rubbed their massive heads. Pets received and welcomes given, they darted away while I kicked off my shoes and socks and left them in their labeled bins by the door. Annie brought me her bowl. Her priority after greetings was to try to get a second dinner into her chubby stomach. Duchess on the other hand brought me her fetch toy. Even though they were siblings and looked so similar they were so different. “Okay, okay!” I laughed softly and took the toy that Duchess dropped into my hand. She spun in place and meowed excitedly. “Shhhh, baby. Mom is sleeping,” I whispered as I chucked the toy as hard as I could across the living room and down the hall towards the bathroom and away from the bedroom. Then it was to the kitchen to put the bowl away and get Annie and I a treat. It was good to be home.