Being an Uber driver in Milwaukee is a one-of-a-kind experience that lets Dave Begel meet some of the most interesting people, residents and visitors in the city. Everybody has a story, and this occasional series will highlight some of those stories. Names have been omitted or changed to preserve the privacy of his passengers.

Oh those crazy kids

It was a Saturday night outside Taylor’s in East Town, and a couple wanted to go to Brookfield.

They poured themselves into the back seat, and before we even got to the expressway, their love for each there was on fervent display in my rear view mirror – complete with sound effects.

By the time we hit I-94 West, they hit a new level of amour, and I was convinced they were about to do the nasty right in my back seat. I pulled onto the shoulder of the road and told them I was too old for this stuff and one of them had to move up to the front seat.

The guy, tucking his shirt into his pants, did so willingly. The woman was not happy and wanted to know if I thought I was her (put your favorite adjective that starts with "f" here) father.

She settled down when I told her if she didn’t I was going to charge her the room rate at The Pfister instead of the normal Uber fee.

Tip-top

Nearly every time I pick someone up at a hotel – almost always a visitor to the city – they offer a tip at the end of the ride.

On only one occasion has anybody from Milwaukee offered a tip.

Of course, much of the charm of the Uber model is that nobody needs cash. But I wonder if it’s an out-of-town thing or whether Milwaukeeans who stay in other cities don’t tip either. It could be geographic frugality.

Restraining order

She was young and waiting at the courthouse for her ride, clutching a manila folder to her chest. She was on the phone when she climbed in.

Here’s how her conversation went.

"We got a violent restraining order on him. The judge didn’t care if he was Jerome’s father. I have the custody, and the judge said he had to stay away from both of us. Yeah. Me and the baby.

"He can’t do any violence on me anymore. And he can’t even take the baby out or change his diaper or anything. Nothing.

"And that bitch was with him, and she just starin’ at me. Bitch!

"And he just lied to the judge about working. He ain’t got no job, and he don’t give me any money. Or the baby.

"I’m not telling him where we’re staying. My lawyer say that order only means something after he tries to do something. We ain’t going be at home. I don’t know where, but we’ll be somewhere."

Sometimes I wonder if people don’t think I can hear what they’re saying. Sometimes the most intimate and private conversations take place just a couple of feet away.

Mr. TV

The television broadcaster for the Miami Marlins needed to get to Miller Park for the game. He left the hotel four hours before game time.

"I love coming to Milwaukee," he said. "The Pfister is the best hotel in all the major leagues. And that area just a little south. What’s it called? The something ward? It’s a really cool place. One of the best."

What a kid

On a Wednesday, I picked him up near Marquette University. 

He was carrying an overnight bag and looked bedraggled. He asked me to take him to the Aurora Health Psychiatric Hospital in Wauwatosa. He said thanks and walked to the entrance. I was familiar with this place, having spent a couple of weeks there for emotional and mental difficulties when I was younger.

The following week on Monday, I picked him up at the same place. He was smiling.

"This is some kind of karma. You drop me off and then pick me up."

"How was it," I asked.

"Good. Great. Great."

I told him about my depression and having been there. We traded stories. His smile got broader and brighter.

"I thought about ending it all. But they helped. They really helped."

Here’s the comment he sent to Uber.

"Gave me a great talk and is a really great guy. He picked me up from the hospital and told me his story, gave me some really great advice and really made my day. I'll never forget him, and I hope to cross paths with him again!"

He gave me a hug at the end of the ride. Feels good to help someone else feel good.  

Rock 'n Roll

There were two huge buses outside The Pabst Theater, parked right in front of the entrance on Wells Street.

Carrying a small bag, Peter was headed to a Downtown hotel.

"I’m the bus driver for Joe Satriani (the world-famous guitarist who was appearing at the Pabst that night). I’ve been driving him for a couple of months. We have a company that provides tour buses for musicians all over the United States.

"There’s two buses, one for the band and one for the crew. Joe’s a good guy, pretty easy to deal with and pretty peaceful on the bus. I’m going to pick up Joe Walsh after this and he’s pretty wild. Crazy.

"It’s a good gig. I drove an eight-month tour for Reba (McEntire), and that tour was like a family trip.

"A bus tour may take a little longer to get there than flying, but it’s much more relaxing. And it helps bond everybody together. Of course, the band always goes in one bus and the crew in another.

"That Pabst theater is one hell of a venue. It’s gorgeous inside."