A Stroke Survivor and an Uber Psychopath

My friend has a huge SUV, a BMW with a running board that, as a stroke survivor, on my very best day ever, I can't enter, to travel to and fro. So whenever she comes and I have an appointment, we take an Uber. Every Uber driver I met was pleasant, except one on that horrid day when I encountered a Uber psychopath. 

We were traveling to Adventist Hospital for a bi-weekly blood draw and everything was fine in the "to." But the "fro" was a different matter altogether.

When he stopped to pick us up at the hospital which was a 15 minute ride back to my apartment, my friend and I couldn't tell there was something wrong with him. He stopped, put the wheelchair in his trunk, and we were off. 

My friend asked him if he could possibly stop at  the pharmacy to pick up my prescription, and he agreed. At the pharmacy, once she got out of the car and entered the pharmacy, the questions started and I knew why he agreed to stop.

"Do you want to drive off and leave her here to make out later?" he chillingly said. "I know a place."

In the seconds that followed, I simply laughed, intentionally defusing those words as if he meant it as a joke. But his expression was dead-pan. 

He went on when I didn't answer him.

"We could drive far away from here or, if you'd rather, I could come in your apartment building to make sure you get safely to your apartment."

I laughed again to further defuse, but by now, his tone took on a more aggressive posture. I was on the brink of despair. I didn't look at him again, and I thought of opening the car door, but I didn't have my cane to walk away. It was in the trunk. I thought of getting out anyway and falling down (that was a given), but I might crack a rib or break my nose again or one of hundreds of other possibilities. How could I defend myself as a disabled person? I sat there with a smile on my face, but I felt chilled in the heat wave that was encompassing Portland, OR.

Fortunately, the pharmacy was not crowded and my friend came back out. He repeated the last question to her.

"I could come with you all to make sure you get safely to your apartment. Would you like me to park the car and do that?"

My friend, completely unaware of his thoughts leading up to that question, thanked him but said the building is a secure one so no need for him to bother. 

When we returned, he got the wheelchair and the cane out of his trunk. When he drove off, I told her what happened, and then she became horrified. We talked about calling the police, but then we decided to give him a "1" (you have to rate the Uber drivers) and not giving him a tip, all done by email shortly after the ride happens. We were going to call the police, but as time went on, I forgot the name of the driver and the encounter became less horrifying.

I've come to regret that decision, possibly allowing it to happen to other passengers, especially the disabled. I give myself virtual smacks on the head often. I also wonder if Uber vets the driver for mental health issues. I am an average-looking, 70 year old woman. If it could happen to me, being past the stage of "hotness," what about the others, younger and more attractive than me? 

I'm still wondering, with regret abounding forevermore.