Thank God for Designated Driver

They run all the time but it is at night when they are needed most. Chances are, you have needed them yourself; you were ditched, you broke down, or you were simply too drunk to drive. If you know their number and are in good enough condition to use a phone, maybe you can hire Designated Driver.

3.23.06, BETWEEN 9 P.M. AND 11:30 P.M.

In order to get the full effect, I got completely loaded at Mr. U's place. I was drinking Missouri's very own McCormick with Coca-Cola while U was slamming screwdrivers. During the pre-ride soiree` I worked the phones managing not only to arrange my ride but also one for photographer Kit Doyle who was waiting at the Southeast Missourian.

11:45 p.m.

The ride arrived and I staggered downstairs while U was still upstairs trying to find his keys. Driving and tolerating us for the first part of the evening was D.D. owner Tim Duffy. I got in the van and explained that my fact-checker was trying to find his keys but would be down in a minute. Tim didn't mind as he took the opportunity to catch-up his passenger log and take a phone call or two. Tim Duffy is a 1982 graduate of Cape Central High School and I'm assuming that he went to college either here or out West. Before he came back to Cape Girardeau he was a defense attorney in King County, Washington. Disenchanted with that he tried corporate law in Oregon for a mining consortium but, as he put it, he didn't like being "a glorified secretary". I don't know of his appearance in those days but now Tim Duffy is a long-haired, sandals-wearing kind of dude who came home and happened upon the business venture of a lifetime.

U finally found his keys and jumped in the van. As we pulled out of the parking lot, Tim explained the make-up of his clientele. "Most of the people who ride with us are regulars. We get a lot of professionals who can't afford to lose their CDLs (commercial driver's license). We get guys who have been nailed two or three times with "deweys". I soon realized that "deweys" are what hip lawyers call D-U-Is. "We go anywhere", Tim continued.

In fact, on this night one of his four vans was on it's way to Memphis transporting a guy to his pregnant wife. "I'm also the agent for DHL and FedEx down here for their same day service and that's basically movie reels, body parts ..."

When Tim started a year or so ago he had one van that he bought dirt cheap which had 484,000 miles on it. He originally ran from 6 p.m. to 3 or 4 a.m. servicing strictly bar business. Within two weeks of starting his new business he was getting calls from old ladies at Wal-Mart with melted ice cream, people at hotels missing flights, etc. "They were waking me up anyway so I thought why not just go 24 hours"? Tim then took a call in the standard, "Thank you for calling Designated Driver, this is Tim. Can I help you"? Long pause. "About 15 minutes." Another pause. "Thank you" and then he hangs up. Dozens of calls follow the same pattern all night long.

11:56 p.m.

Our first fare for the night was a pickup from Independence Place. As the passenger got in Tim asked him, "Hey, Kenny, how you doin', man? You've been drinkin' those five dollar drinks"? Kenny replies, "No, ten dollar drinks". Tim explains to Kenny, "These guys are interviewing people so they might bombard you with a bunch of questions". I chimed in, "Or maybe none at all".

It was the phone again. "Thank you for calling Designated Driver, this is Tim. Can I help you"? Long pause. "About 15 minutes". Another pause. "Look for us outside 'cause we can't find you in the Pour House". Tim hit "end" on the phone as Kenny asked where the Pour House was. He replied, "Downtown". When Kenny says, "Never heard of it", Tim responded, "That's because you never go downtown. You're always at I.P."

3.24.06, 12:12 A.M.

After dropping off Kenny on Patricia I had no idea how we got back on Independence or Main or wherever we were. As we cruised downtown Cape, Tim discussed yet another variety of passenger. "We get the Scott City Police Station, we get Cape; every now and then for whatever reason they decide to let someone go, they'll call us. These are guys who go out when it's cold and sleep in their car when they're dead drunk".

"Dead drunk like these four coming out of River Nick's", I asked hypocritically.

"Enjoy it, brother", Mr. U shouted to them out the window. I pointed to worst of the four and said to Tim, "Look at the guy; there's no saving him. Think he'll call you in the next hour"? Tim's response was "Nah".

"Does it take 'em a few deweys", I asked.

Trying to keep things on track Tim said, "We get everything. We get the power drinkers, the frat boys-"

"The super-sluts", I interrupted.

As we stopped outside of Port Cape, Tim said, "It's possible".

We lost Mr. U at Main and Broadway. At the stop sign he bailed out and headed straight for Buckner's. It was in another part of town a few minutes later when I realized that my keys were locked in U's apartment. Now he was gone with his keys and I had zero access to my truck. I tried a text message to him but to no avail.

12:48 a.m.

After we dropped off a group of four dudes somewhere in Apartment City I asked Tim if anyone ever bolted on him without paying.

"Well, there's two types: The get-out-in-a-hurry-and-pretend-to-get-the-money-out-of-my-pockets-and-then-run-between-the-buildings guy; not much you can do with that. You call the cops and get stuck for 45 minutes losing more money over six bucks. Then there's the guy who goes through his pockets and says that he doesn't have any money".

1:22 A.M.

Now riding with Anthony, we soon picked-up a group from Mollie's. I know that in addition to a couple of women there were three guys because Mr. U and I ended up fighting them. On a lucky break I saw U at the Bel Air and I had Anthony take us there. I convinced U and his friend to ride along since I needed my keys. A few minutes later we were somewhere on Broadway when one of the guys from Mollie's hurled a derogatory comment toward U's friend.

"Here we go", I announced to everyone.

U said to the guy, "You better apologize to her".

The guy, "No, man, I didn't say it, you did"!

I reiterated, "This is it, folks"!

We might have been on Perryville Road; I don't know.

"Pull it over", Mr. U demanded. "Lemme glaze this m-----f-----!"

The jerk was trying to weasel out but U pressed-on.

"Pull this over -- it's gonna happen"!

I urged Anthony, "You might wanna pull over".

The conflict was barely contained when suddenly all hell broke loose. Outside some house the three guys from Mollie's decided to play rough with a lot of grabbing and not much swinging, putting their women in the middle of this spat. They then promptly split. Then some smack was exchanged as we remained parked outside the house

Inside the van the riffraff was gone but Mr. U was unquenched. That's when I noticed a brand new passenger. I don't remember us getting him and I don't know where he came from. Some skinny guy in a brown Zeppelin shirt is about all I do remember. Anyway, he was there and U recruited him on the spot.

"You wanna smoke these a--holes", he asked the new passenger. The offer was accepted and they both flew out the side door of the van with the mysterious passenger wiping out the instant he exited while Mr. U got jumped by the three guys.

I turned off the tape and told Anthony to stay where he was. I got out and found the one doing the most sucker-punching, who was much larger than me; I cinched him in my patented double-armed headlock which is really more of a choke hold. Offering no resistance at all he gasped, "I'm cool ..."

I let him go and as we got back in the van Mr. U said, "I'm satisfied".

What became of the mysterious passenger in the Zeppelin shirt? I assume that we drove off and left him passed-out on the road. I just can't remember. I do remember making a stop at the new Rhodes on 72 and Sprigg when I left Anthony's van so he could go get some trucker. I got in with some plus-sized strippers who just got off work in East St. Louis. I thought, maybe they wouldn't mind working a little longer.