Dear Uber Driver of My 5:00 a.m. Ride,

Good morning (though “good” is doing some heavy lifting here). Thank you for promptly picking me up in Park City for my journey to Salt Lake City airport. Unfortunately, somewhere between Deer Valley and “oh dear God, roll down a window,” you unleashed a toxic bioweapon from the depths of your gastrointestinal tract.

Sir, it is 5 a.m. I have not yet had coffee. My soul is still waking up. And instead of the crisp mountain air I expected, I am marinating in what can only be described as Chernobyl, but make it digestive. The heated seats only accelerated the chemical warfare.

If you were hoping to recreate the vibe of an early-morning hot spring, mission not accomplished. Because unlike mineral water steam, your emissions did not have healing properties—unless we’re talking about instant sinus-clearing in the most violent way imaginable.

Sincerely,

Passenger in the Back Seat (now considering hitchhiking with the Mormons for cleaner air)