How a Lyft Ride Reminded Me of the Importance of Helping Others
I got in the Lyft at 2:52 pm near Providence, Rhode Island. My immediate thought was Can I trust this guy? The driver, Joe, was a strong, heavy guy with sleeves rolled up exposing his fully tattooed arms. He wore a beanie style winter hat and was playing Motley Crue loud in his old, worn sedan.
“Long drive ahead of you, eh?” I said.
“What do you mean? Where are we going?”
“Logan Airport.”
“What? Oh man, I didn’t realize that when I accepted the ride.” He paused to consider, then continued firmly, “But don’t worry, I’ll get you there.”
I’ve heard stories of many taxis and ride-sharing drivers declining a passenger when they find out the ride will take them over an hour away from their home town. My driver Joe would have to fight terrible Boston rush hour traffic trying to get home after dropping me off, almost surely without any passenger to compensate him for the long drive back.
That was only part of the story, though. Not only did we have a long way to go, I was cutting it close, trying to catch an earlier flight. I’ve been traveling a lot lately for work, and there was a slim chance that if I got on that flight, I could make it home in time to put my kids to bed.
I disappeared into work phone calls from the backseat, one of which was to the airline. I could get on the earlier flight, but I estimated I’d have to get to the airport no later than 4:00 and make it to the gate fast. The ETA on Joe’s phone on the dashboard said 4:06.
“If we can get there by 4:00, I might get home for my kids tonight. I’d appreciate anything you can do to get me there. Thank you for doing this, Joe,” I pleaded from the backseat.
He nodded quietly.
As we got closer to Boston, I was no longer on the phone, so he started talking.
I used to drive truck in and out of Boston, but I haven’t been up here for years. I got injured so I couldn’t keep driving. Some guys might sit on the couch collecting money from the government and drinking beer. I decided I’d keep doing whatever I could do. So now I do this driving, along with some local trailer driving for a guy in town. I’d rather not be in Boston traffic tonight, but you need to get to the airport and I said I’d get you there.
You know, I love Minnesota. I lived there when my Dad went through treatment for cancer at the Mayo Clinic. The locals at the hotel, Jimmy Johns, and the hospital were my only support. They were the nicest people and made such a difference when my Dad finally died after three months. I’m going to get you to Minnesota to see your kids before they go to bed.
As he weaved and maneuvered as aggressively as he could through traffic, I watched the ETA on his phone move up and up, re-calculating the drive time because traffic was increasing closer to the airport. But Joe kept at it.
Studying the airport signs carefully, he found his way to the curbside drop-off. It was 4:03. He couldn’t have safely done anything more than that.
“It was my pleasure to do this. Get home to Minnesota and see your kids.”
Of course, my gate was literally the furthest from security in the airport. I sprinted down the hallway, down and up escalators, and around corners.
Just as they were about to close the boarding doors for my gate, I arrived. Heaving deep breaths, I got to my row as the woman in the aisle seat smiled, got up, and made room for me to settle.
Three hours later I was laying with my kids, kissing them to sleep.
What makes a guy like Joe willing to be inconvenienced? Here’s a guy who has plenty of reasons to complain in life. But, instead, he chose to help. I imagine him sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic on 93 South after dropping me off, with Motley Crue blasting, thinking, “Even though this was inconvenient, it feels really good to help.”
Perhaps the path to joy is through inconvenience. It causes us to get outside ourselves and affirm our value.
I was grateful for Joe. Not just that he got me to the airport quickly, but because he inspired me to be inconvenienced for other people.
It might be simply allowing someone to get in front of you in line. Maybe it’s helping someone at work. Or perhaps it’s a willingness to do something extra for the benefit of others.
Like Joe, don’t just do it begrudgingly; do it with commitment.
Where can you inconvenience yourself for someone today?
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