{"id":5314,"date":"2017-01-05T06:50:35","date_gmt":"2017-01-05T06:50:35","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/michaelwinn.org\/?p=5314"},"modified":"2017-01-24T05:35:20","modified_gmt":"2017-01-24T05:35:20","slug":"day-5-dominatrix","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/michaelwinn.org\/tu-maltido-amor\/2017\/01\/05\/day-5-dominatrix\/","title":{"rendered":"Uber Day 5 – Dominatrix Makes The World Safer for Democracy"},"content":{"rendered":"
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View over Submarine Base from National Cemetery<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

A ride request chimed and blinked\u00a0on my iPad. I saved the C Minor Symphony and left to pick up “Jason”, at the address of the submarine base near the end of Pt. Loma, about\u00a0a mile from my home. In 5 minutes, I arrived \u00a0at the guard’s booth where the Marine sentry on duty told me, “Ubers can’t come on base; only taxis are allowed”. He told me to\u00a0park in a small lot by\u00a0the\u00a0gate\u00a0and wait for the rider. The sailor’s barracks buildings are a half mile from the gate, so I asked the guard\u00a0if he knew where I can ask for a\u00a0permit to drive in. “Uber’s aren’t allowed on base.”<\/p>\n

“I got that. I want to ask for a pass to come on base.”<\/p>\n

“Oh.” He pointed to a small building with a\u00a0sign on which the words, \u00a0“Pass Office” was printed in block letters.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Because the barracks is a long walk for sailors and drivers have to wait ten minutes or longer for a ride that usually nets no more than $2.00 after deducting expenses, the following morning I decided to go to the\u00a0Pass Office and ask for a\u00a0permit to drive into the base.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
Pass Office (Foreground, “W”, a civilian employee and Uber rider).<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Inside the little grey building, I saw three relatively young African American women engaged in animated chatting behind a plywood counter. It occurred to\u00a0me they are the only women of African American descent I’d encountered in Pt. Loma in more than two weeks, aside from the Ethiopian security\u00a0by the door of San Diego County Credit Union at Talbot and Rosecrans.<\/p>\n

“Can I help you?”<\/p>\n

“Good morning! I’d like to be cleared\u00a0to pick up and drop off riders.<\/p>\n

\u201cI’m sorry, sir, what do you want?”<\/p>\n

I gathered no one had ever asked for a permit. “I’m an Uber driver. I want to drive into the base, when I receive a ride request or when I’m dropping off people who live or work here.”<\/p>\n

“You can’t. People who work for Uber\u00a0aren’t allowed. on base.”<\/p>\n

\u201cUber drivers don’t work for Uber;\u00a0we’re independent contractors. I know that taxis can enter the base.\u00a0I’ve seen them.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTaxis? Oh, yes. Taxis can come in, but not Uber.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat means there must be some kind of approval criteria?”<\/p>\n

“Criteria?”<\/p>\n

“An approval process.” (I’d been a yeoman in the Coast Guard Reserve and I know that in the military there’s a process, procedure and criteria for everything imaginable and much that isn’t imaginable.) One of the other\u00a0youngish (African American) women nudged her colleague\u00a0gently aside as she\u00a0searched around under the plywood counter and came up with a three ring book with a black cover. She then read that I needed to be a\u00a0licensed business. Check. I’m licensed. Insured Vehicle. Check. Driver’s License. Check.<\/p>\n

I leaned against the WWII era plywood. \u00a0“I live a few blocks down the street.\u00a0I’m a neighbor. I want\u00a0to drive into the base to pick up riders–sailors, people who work here. It’s my business.”<\/p>\n

“Do you have a business license? ”<\/p>\n

“No, I’m not a business. I have business here. I don’t work for Uber. I work for the riders whose requests I accept. I’m a rideshare driver. We don’t need to have\u00a0a TCP.”<\/p>\n

“TCP? What’s TCP? I don’t know what TCP is. Have you ever heard of TCP?”<\/p>\n

“No, I don’t know what TCP is.”<\/p>\n

“Transportation Charter Permit. You get it from the PUC–Public Utilities Commission and rideshare drivers don’t need one. \u00a0They cost a thousand dollars. I’d need a bigger reason than a rides from a few sailors to put out a thousand dollars, right?”<\/p>\n

“Suit yourself,” she said, “that’s what it says here”.<\/p>\n

Leaving them to continue the conversation I’d interrupted \u00a0I walked to my car, deciding then and there\u00a0to give up on getting a\u00a0permit to come on the base. A couple days later,\u00a0I again received a ride request from the sub base. As I drove through the orange barricades approaching the gate, \u00a0I saw a man and a woman dressed in combat blue fatigues talking to\u00a0the Marine sentry, who wore\u00a0green fatigues. The sentry disappeared as I neared\u00a0the gate.\u00a0Expecting to be\u00a0asked to wait in the adjacent parking lot as I had before, I smiled up at the grim face of an athletic-looking black woman about 38 years old.<\/p>\n

\u201cUber. I\u2019m here to pick up Jason. Shall I\u00a0park over there and wait?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her black hair was tucked tight into her officer’s cap, which she wore at a slight rake. Opaque aviator sunglasses hid\u00a0her eyes; she seemed poised\u00a0like a UFO fighter in her corner–and she had a big black gun holstered on her hip. She spoke with the hint of a snarl,\u00a0\u201cI’ll take your driver\u2019s license!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy do you want my driver’s license? \u00a0(If she’d been an Uber rider, I’d have told her to get another car.<\/p>\n

\u201cGive me your driver\u2019s license.”<\/p>\n

\u201cWait a second. You’ll TAKE\u00a0my driver’s license?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGive me your license, sir!\u201d<\/p>\n

Her partner, standing silently\u00a0beside her, a little out of frame said, “get out of the car…\u201d<\/p>\n

“What?”<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll take care of this,” she said to him, “keep your eye on them” She pointed at the\u00a0line of cars forming behind my car. There’s a lot of traffic in and out of the sub base and only this one\u00a0lane entrance and one lane exit for trucks, cars, whatever.<\/p>\n

\u201cMiss, if you want to call the police, please, do so. I\u2019ve done nothing wrong.” This is a free country in which military personnel can\u2019t violate the person, property or rights of civilians. You may\u00a0defend yourself if you believe there’s a threat.\u00a0\u201cCan\u00a0you identify yourself as a police\u00a0officer? \u00a0You know I can\u2019t legally drive this car without a license in my possession and at this point, I’d like to\u00a0leave.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKeep your license!\u201d<\/p>\n

“I\u2019ll do a u-turn and I\u2019m out of here. Tell Jason.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? Who?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJason, the sailor or marine who supposedly requested a ride.\u201d I started to pull away to turn and leave.<\/p>\n

\u201cStop!\u201d<\/p>\n

“What?”<\/p>\n

She pointed to the parking lot, where I’d waited last time.<\/p>\n

“Pull your car over there.”<\/p>\n

“Into the parking lot now? Ok.”<\/p>\n

“Over there!” she re-iterated, as if I wasn’t already moving. With her hand on her weapon, she walked alongside my car as I drove slowly into the parking lot, where I expected to wait for Jason an earn a $3 fare. Why is it that Marines tip and sailors don’t? Maybe my luck.<\/p>\n

“Stop right there!” (in the driveway of the lot).I turned off the motor and started to open the door to\u00a0stretch–I try\u00a0to get out and stretch whenever I can. Otherwise,\u00a0I’m sitting for hours.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet back in the car!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGive me your driver\u2019s license.\u201d<\/p>\n

Since I was now on the base, where she has legal jurisdiction, I \u00a0 handed her my license. \u201cWhy are you doing this? I\u2019m an Uber driver. I live in this community. What\u2019s your name?”<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t need to know that.” I inferred from this that\u00a0her actions are sanctioned by superiors, maybe triggered by my\u00a0visit to\u00a0the Pass Office. The possibility of\u00a0deliberate harassment was there, but to what end? \u00a0To protect the exclusive franchise of a cab company or to protect America from Americans.<\/p>\n

“I can call the police and have you arrested!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, you can.\u00a0I\u2019m an Uber driver trying to make a living serving people who live or work here. I live\u00a0in this neighborhood and I’ve done nothing wrong and you can have me arrested. Ironic.”<\/p>\n

\u201cGet off this base! Immediately, \u00a0Get out of here! Move! Now!\u201d<\/p>\n

(I\u2019m rereading Rick Altman\u2019s book on narrative theory. In Altman\u2019s view, every narrative depends on the reader’s\/viewer’s perception of characters and actions, a view over which a narrator has no control. These characters perceived\u00a0contrasting\u00a0narratives. The officer\u2019s actions, though correlated\u00a0with my actions, were neither consistent with seeing me as a threat but instead, with\u00a0a perception of an older white man’s disrespect\u00a0of her\u00a0as a class, a black woman officer. In all likelihood, our\u00a0species won’t survive armies of women.)<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n