I climbed down the hotel stairs into the parking lot rain as my faithful transporter pulled up in the early Sunday hour to whisk me away to the Baltimore bedroom community where I would stay until he took me the rest of the way down into Baltimore on Monday morning. As the sidekicks of movie action heroes are wont to do while taking their chargers into harm’s way, Uber Joe regaled this action zero with crucial updates as he charged down a little-used highway under construction, spray showering his white 1980 RX-7 as he reeled off the litany of recent events that might inform my pending asphalt safari.

“Nice to have you back, brother. I charge a hundred for the Philly to Baltimore run—only takes me forty-five minutes because I don’t use the stupid GPS. I don’t go down into Baltimore anymore—not unless it’s a private client like you. It’s just too dangerous. More and more people are moving out. Baltimore County is getting bad enough that I pick my spots carefully for the UBER business. If your approval rating from customers goes below a certain score you get dropped by the app, which is real hairy because the ghetto people who have moved out of Baltimore and use UBER demand soft drinks and snacks and you opening the door for them like it’s a limo service. I’m not a chauffer, but a driver. When I tell them that—three times now—they give me a one rating. So when I’m in certain areas I turn the app off.

“Your mayor resigned after the feds raided her house and now the City Council Chairman, a man, who is calling for the death penalty for people who shoot children—they just shot two in diapers—he is the interim mayor. This bimbo newscaster, Mary Boob-something, in an interview she did with someone, asked if it was about time they tried a mayor who was not an African American Woman. Well, she’s gone, but they are trying the man part.

“The Baltimore City Police declared a ceasefire for Mother’s Day Weekend and they’ve already shot three this weekend. They’re on pace to have more murders than ever this year. I’m surprised there’s enough targets left.

“John Rallo, from Team Ground Control, walked into a 7-11 about a month ago and some guy came in behind him with a gun to rob the place and tried pushing John out of the way—you know how big he is, right—and John says, “Bam,” and elbows the guy in the jaw and knocks him out cold.

“No, he wasn’t Amish.

“No, not Mennonite either.

“No, not a Mormon—I told you it was just one guy. Who ever saw one Mormon?

“No—and not Chinese, Japanese, Eskimo, Martian or transgender Egyptian!

“Good Lord, you know what he was, Jimmy!

“Look, you’re not going to get me to say it. Let’s just say hey looks like the passengers who expect me to have free Doritos and Snickers bars and soft drinks.

“No, I’m not a snackist!”