I’m a driver for a rideshare service. I have a dashcam and a camera that points backward at both myself in the driver’s seat and at the back seat. My rideshare profile has that information on it, and I have signage on the inside of my car that the clients are being recorded for my safety and theirs. 

I picked up a client from a bar because he’d been drinking and needed a ride back home, and he was being responsible and not taking his own car. The ride was meant to only be about twenty minutes, and he seemed to be one of those cheerful drunk people who just kind of laugh a little too loud, but he was cracking jokes, making conversation, and not being overly obnoxious.

So far, so good, right?

Then, maybe five minutes into the ride, we stopped at a red light next to a police cruiser, and he noticed the cop. His demeanor changed, though when he started getting angry, it wasn’t at me, it was at the police. I didn’t really engage that much. People aren’t required to have good feelings about the police, after all, though he had some choice words that I won’t be repeating here. 

He wasn’t getting so belligerent that I felt like I was in any danger, and he seemed to calm down once the light turned green and the cop turned onto a different road. Still, he seemed to decide I needed an explanation that I didn’t ask for, so he told me the story about a time he was detained and arrested for having an expired license and that his charges were dropped because, and I quote:

Rider: “We don’t need a driver’s license to drive a car.”

Here’s where, admittedly, I make a mistake. Once I heard that, I flashed to several videos I’d watched over the years of Sovereign Citizens being arrested, and more than a few saying those exact words. It was then that I sort of mumbled, louder than I intended, and he heard me:

Me: “Oh, God, you’re one of those?”

Rider: *Angrily* “What?”

Again, I realize that I shouldn’t have said what I said out loud, but when I tried to apologize and de-escalate the situation, he went on a complete meltdown, kicking the back of the passenger seat, waving his arms around, and full-blown screaming at me because I was “a sheep” and “a government spy”, whatever that meant.

That was the point when I decided that it was time for the ride to end; he was raging so hard that it was making my car rock on its suspension. So, I pulled into a parking space at a gas station and made several attempts to ask him to get out of my car. He refused and continued to scream incoherently over my voice. Then, I decided to just get out of my vehicle and leave him alone in the back seat while I called the police.

His screams continued in the back of my car, though quite muffled, as he started getting red in the face. Other people at the gas station were staring, and it was all I could do to just shrug, as baffled as they were. A few asked what he was mad about, but I just said I didn’t know, which honestly didn’t feel like a lie since his rage seemed really disproportionate to my (admittedly kind of rude) words.

The whole time I stood outside my car talking to 911, the man in my car kept repeating, over and over again:

Rider: “Am I being detained?! I don’t consent to being detained!”

I tried to tell him several times that he could just open the door, it wasn’t locked — I was not going to open the door myself and risk him attacking me — and he wasn’t being detained. He refused to listen, his breath fogging the window as he mashed his face hard against the glass. To this day, I swear that left a permanent face mark that has refused to come off no matter what product I use.

It took several minutes before any police arrived, and later, I learned it was the same cop who had shared a red light with me earlier in the night because he recognized my car in passing. Still, I went up to him and explained what had happened. All the while, the man in my car had not let up on his tantrum, attracting a small crowd. 

Officer: “Is he locked in?”

Me: “No, sir, he can just open the door anytime he likes. I just got out because…” *gestures in my rider’s general direction* “…I didn’t think I was going to be able to help, and I didn’t feel safe opening the door for him.”

Officer: *Nods understandingly* “You got license, registration, and insurance on you? We need proof of ownership if we’re gonna trespass him out of your vehicle.”

Me: *Taking out my wallet* “I have my license here, but the other two documents are in the glove box, and…”

I gestured again at the full-grown, possibly drunk adult, whose voice had started becoming hoarse.

Officer: “Yeah, no, I get ya. I’m waiting for backup before tackling this situation, so do me a favor and hang out for a bit, yeah?”

I agreed, the officer handed my license to his partner to run it and my plates, and before too long, another cruiser pulled into the gas station. With four cops on the scene, my license was returned to me by the first officer, and he asked one last question.

Officer: “You have any information about why he might be like this?”

Me: “I picked him up from the bar around the corner, and I figured he was drunk, but I don’t think I’m qualified to make any… assumptions, I guess?”

The officer nodded.

Me: “I… think he might be a Sovereign Citizen guy?”

At these words, the officer and the other cops in earshot all collectively groaned, sighed, or rolled their eyes.

Officer: “Not that I don’t believe you, but why do you think that?”

Me: “During the ride, he said something about not needing a driver’s license to drive a car, and during… the whole thing here, he just kept screaming that he doesn’t consent to being detained. I’ve seen videos.”

The officer took a breath, closed his eyes, and then let it out before thanking me for my information and telling me to step away to give him and the rest of the cops room, just in case. Not needing to be told twice, I took several big steps away, as far as I could go while still being able to watch.

I think at this point the man had finally tired himself out; once the officer opened the door, he barely even made a token effort before falling limply out of my back seat. He was cuffed, lifted to his feet, and escorted by only two officers as he weakly rasped out protests and accusations, and other than one burst of energy that made him trip and fall, he was placed in the back of the cruiser without further incident. 

Once he was secured, I was able to get my registration and insurance, but the first officer said I was good; he had checked my tags against my license, and everything was in date and it was all under my name. I still offered my camera footage if he needed it, and he agreed, making a note of my phone number and asking me to make a copy.

Officer: “Did he damage your car at all?”

Me: *Checks* “Other than stomping dirt all over the back of the passenger seat and floorboard, no, I think it’s fine. I’ll give it a more thorough check later and let you know?”

Officer: “Yeah, sounds good to me. You stay safe out there.”

Me: “I’ll try my best, sir.”

Once the excitement wore off and I had explained what happened to the other folks who were still hanging around, I treated the officers to some coffee and doughnuts, which they thanked me for and drove off, taking the now — I think — passed out Sovereign Citizen with them.

And that was still only in the top ten craziest things that happened in my rideshare career.

Related:
Sovereign Citizen, Stupid Criminal
Sovereign Citizen, Stupid Coworker

I’m waiting in line at the gas station and have the pleasure of being behind a total jerk. He finishes his transaction and then asks:

Customer: “Can I trade in this twenty-dollar bill for two tens?”

Cashier: “No, I’m sorry, but we have limited change right now, and I’m not allowed to do that.”

Customer: “Are you serious?”

Cashier: “Yes, I’m sorry. it’s company policy when we are low on change.”

Customer: “This is so f****** stupid. It’s ridiculous.” *Turns in my direction* “It’s ridiculous, right?”

Me: “Well, since the sign on the outside says, ‘[Gas Station],’ and not, ‘Bank,’ I think it’s pretty reasonable.” 

He just stormed out of the store. There was a bank literally across the street from this gas station.

I am a manager at a gas station. A customer comes storming in angrily. He might be a regular as he looks familiar.

Customer: “Your prices are ridiculous! Give me your staff discount!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but the prices are set by corporate, who in turn set their prices based on market—”

Customer: “You’re just raising the prices so no one can afford the gas, and you keep it all to yourself!”

Me: “That is absolutely not the case, sir. Staff who pump their gas here pay the same as customers.”

Customer: “I know you steal the gas for yourself! You overcharge us so that you can get away with pumping free gas! I’ve seen it!”

Me: “Sir, I drive a Tesla.”

Customer: “…”

Me: “…”

Customer: “You’re the reason my energy bill is so high!”

A large regional grocery store chain owns convenience stores that have gas pumps. The chain has loyalty cards that allow you to get a few cents off at the pumps. And, if you buy other company gift cards at the grocery store, you get points for additional savings — up to a dollar a gallon for up to thirty-five gallons.

I often bought gift cards for restaurants where my wife and I regularly ate for the gas points and paid for the meals with the cards. I was saving quite a bit on gas.

The first time my wife and I both drove to our local [Convenience Store] to get gas, I pulled up on one side of the pump and she on the other side. I filled my truck with about twenty gallons and proceeded to insert the nozzle into her car.

A clerk came running out to the pump yelling at us.

Clerk: “You can only fill one vehicle with points!”

Me: “Where does it say that on the pumps, the marquee, or anywhere on the building?”

Clerk: “Well, that’s the rule. You can’t fill another vehicle at the same time.”

Me: “Unless you can show me where it says that, get out of my face.”

Clerk: “I will call the police.”

Me: “Do it.”

He went back inside. The police never came. We kept doing that same format until the grocery chain eventually sold off their convenience stores and the loyalty cards no longer worked.

It was good while it lasted.

In the 1950s, I worked very briefly one summer as a “pump jockey” filling cars at a service station.

On a very hot day, a woman pulled in, and as I started filling her tank, I could hear the engine ticking. As I started to move toward the hood to check the oil and water, I could feel the heat radiating.

I grabbed some water and a thick wad of rags to protect my hands. The engine was ticking away. She was telling me that she had driven straight through from Wichita (roughly 200 miles, or 320 kilometers) with a red warning light on the dashboard. I could tell that her radiator had boiled dry and would be hotter than blazes. The engine was probably completely seized by then.

I wasn’t going to touch anything that hot, so I started pouring water over the top of the radiator where it immediately turned to steam.

Customer: “Isn’t that supposed to go inside?”