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Sorry this is a bit long, I know this isn’t a therapist office but this has bothered me for a long time and I wanted to just get it off my chest. This happened June 2018 in Portland, Oregon. I understand I acted like an idiot in this situation, since then I have become much more observant, cautious, and honestly, much more paranoid.
I went dancing with friends was really drunk by midnight. Unfortunately this was back when I had little money, and I realized you could save money by eating very little before going out and it would take far fewer drinks to get drunk. So I was so drunk I barely remember my friend ordering me an Uber home (my phone was dead, of course). I can vauguely recall them helping me into the car and telling me to get home safe, I don’t remember greeting the driver or the first minute or so. But soon after getting in he asked how my night was and if I smoked. Honestly I was just thinking about bed at this point so I sort of just slurred out that I did sometimes. He then offered me a joint, and this is the first moment I get sort of nervous and begin paying attention. I tell him something like I’m really tired and just ready to get home. I think he said something about it being an indica based joint and it made for great sleep. Once again I say something not exactly like no, but not a yes, which he takes as a ‘yes I’ll take that joint now’. Once again, I’m still drunk enough I can barely see straight or speak clearly, so when he says “Okay well I have to cancel the ride really quick because I can’t give it to you while I’m on the clock” or something to that effect, it takes me a second to realize how dangerous that is, and by the time I start to say something, he has cancelled the ride and pulls over. We were in an are just east of the Hawthorne bridge (i think) and it was totally secluded – some empty parking lots, a closed auto body shop, no one in sight.
It’s starting to hit me I’m now in the car not with an Uber driver but with some stranger, I can’t call anyone, and he’s trying to give me weed that could have anything in it. For the next minute or so we’re pretty quiet, or I just can’t remember any small talk he tried to make because I was beginngin to panic, and everytime he handed me the joint I would take fake hits, just breathing it into my mouth and not into my lungs. I felt tired, clumsy, and weak – that kind of drunk were you’re almost at the point of nausea, and I knew I couldn’t do much of anything to defend myself at that point. I remember vividly being fixated for a moment on the fact I didn’t even have a pair of keys to defend myself with, as my building used fobs for just about everything and I didn’t take my mail key with me. As I’m freaking out, I look up to see if this guy is sort of noticing, and I make eye contact with him in the mirror. He was staring at me, but I couldn’t read his expression. Finally he says something along the lines of “well lets get out here”.
I tell him I’ll just call another Uber to get home, thinking at this point it might even be safer to walk, and he says “no I still have your address, I’ll just take you home.” For a moment I was relieved, I guess I wanted to believe him so badly that I would get home safe I believed him. I tried to calm myself down, thinking he hadn’t actually done anything threatening, maybe he was just your typical stoner guy and I’m overreacting.
At this time, I lived on PSU campus in dowtown Portland in the southwest area of the city. He is driving me north on the east side of the river. There are several bridges to our left, and as he keeps moving north he has several opportunities to take an exit to hop over the river and get me back downtown. He keeps skipping them, we keep passing bridge after bridge that could get me home. Up in Northeast portland, there are some large industrial areas that can get very isolated at night, and Portland in general is surrounded by lots of forests, so I knew he could have me in a secluded area in really quickly. After he passes like the fourth exit for a bridge (pretty sure it was the broadway bridge), I’ve been racking my brain for a way to make him actually take me home, and say something to the effect of “Hey, my boyfriend is waiting for me at home . . .” Which was true, though I said it in a very meek way. My driver says nothing, but he did take the next exit for a bridge and basically hung a giant u-turn that started taking me home. Even as we’re on the west side of town heading south, I’m still shaking and have my hand on the door handle, thinking about just hopping out at a red light the closer we get to my apartment. My phone is completely dead, and he honestly still has severall chances to hop onto nearby highways and speed out of the city.
We’re getting pretty close to my apartment now, and I’m once again trying to convince myself I’m being paranoid about some stoner that can’t navigate the city, althought a few minutes before I was so scared I was crying. So once we get about two blocks from my apartment, I lie and tell him it’s easiest to stop here and he can let me out. Again, he doesn’t say anything but does slow the car, I’m flooded with relief and even feel myself smile, but when I go to open the door it’s locked. I try to lift the lock mechanism manually but it won’t budge. I look up at him instinctually to see what’s up, and he’s got his head turned almost fully toward me, shoulders still facing the road, SMILING AT ME. The worst fucking smile I’ve ever seen, it looked so mocking and it just did not reach his eyes at all. I just started crying and asking him to open the door, I was so freaked out and still very drunk, and thank god he did. I will never forget the sensation of vulnerability, not just being drunk in his car with no way to contact anyone, but even as I got out of the car I kept feeling like he would somehow grab the back of my shirt and pull me back in, as silly as that sounds.
When I got home, I found out my boyfriend had actually gone out with friends last minute and wasn’t even home – he wouldn’t even have known till much later if I hadn’t gotten back safe. The next day I convinced myself I was freaking out over nothing (which I realize still could be the case), but in my gut I had truly felt in danger the night before. Technichally this guy could have been totally harmless, but I still think I should have texted my friend and had her report him.
The big thing that made me think of this was recently hearing about how Ed Kemper (Co-ed Killer) would go for ‘practice runs’, picking up hitchhikers and seeing if he could get the passengers/potential victims to trust him or how far out of his comfort zone he could push them without them saying anything. Obviously this guy wasn’t Ed Kemper, but I hate wondering if that night was a practice run of sorts for my Uber driver.
Thanks to whoever reads this whole thing through, I’m at a point in my life where I’m realizing how much danger i put myself in when I was younger and just depressed as hell and it has made me both surprised and deeply grateful I’m still here.
