Kenyan Uber driver tales: When passengers decide to turn a cab into a bedroom

The first time I realized a ndai's back seat can be used for other manenos other than bebaing wasay in sitting positions was when I watched snoop's, gin and juice vida. Wa! the shocks on that ndai taking a kichapo as a result of a pair of horizontal heterosexual peeps doing their thing, should inspire a car rights lawyer to file a petition.

One night I bebad this jamaa and his mama from a mall and they began snogoing as soon as I washad the engine. 

I am cool and always easy with that, coz it shields me from questions like: "is this your car or you are just a driver? How much can I make if I bring a car into the system? Kwanini gari yako iko low hivi?"

However, this couple, coz of the alcoblow shizzle, had to stop temporarily, from trading high-dividend saliva shares, to funga their safety belts before cops rushad their mulika jambazi lights inside the ndai wakisaka harufu ya gauge past the legal limit. That rationing of trading didn't impress the mama, who ulizad: "kwani hauna tint?" And my mind was:  "The mall I picked y'all had a hotel ndaaaani yake."

 After we vukad the alcoblow border the trading resumed, which eventually stopped after I dropped the mama at her crib, after which I nearly asked the dude: " Yaani umekula mate hiyo distance yote only for it to end here, like this?" 

It took some time before this couple got a worthy competitor, at least when it came to length of the saliva trading. Other couples usually do quickie ones, usually when picking or dropping one of them off. 

Then siku moja I chukuad this couple from ngong halafu I misread the destination, Warren instead of Karen, woi! Just like their bestes above, their lips and tongues touched base asap, and it was only when I fikad paki headed to Thika road they were like I had taken them zangu. I chekid the destination tena, oops. U-turn pap to Karen. 

Getting the destination wrong is one of the mbof mistakes an Uber dere can make in this biz. Clients zusha like: "Kwani haujui kusoma map? You're trying to extort me, sio? Hiyo extra unadhani nani atalipa?" But, these traders were polite, no mdomo mingi, instead, they saved that energy for their, ummm, salivary exchanges, uninterrupted coz wapi alcoblow Monday nights? And even better, when I fikishad them Karen, the jamaa asked: "How much do we owe you?"

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