Premonition by Nancy Panganiban, 12″ x 16″, Pastel on Velour Paper, 2019
A Ride Share
Copyright: This script is copyright protected and may not be reproduced, distributed, or disseminated without the prior written permission of the author.
A One-Act Play
CAST OF CHARACTERS
CHRISTINE VALENTINA: an attractive, overweight, colorfully dressed, good-natured, middle-aged woman.
JOANNA GUTZCHALK: a ride-share driver. A middle-aged woman dressed in colorless tones: browns/greys/blacks and/or whites. Speaks German and English.
SETTING
Outside a major metropolitan area in the United States. Summer of 2003. On the city’s residential streets, on the curb or in the car. Note: Ideally, projections are used to establish place as the play moves along.
Scene I
Projection of a row house and a front stoop against a bright crystal blue sunlit autumn sky. There are a few trees at the peak of their change.
Spot up on CHRISTINE. Currently, she is in a state of panic, screaming into her cell phone.
CHRISTINE: I’ve been standing on my front step for seven minutes, and no Blue Saab has appeared on my street!
(Pause)
I would know if I was sitting in the back seat of a moving car!
(Pause)
YOU CALM DOWN! This is a life-and-death situation! You know that!
(Pause)
Wait a sec – what shade of blue is it?
(Pause)
Because there is a silver Saab parked across the street.
(Pause)
It’s silver! I’m a color counselor. I know color. Why didn’t they honk? How was I supposed to know they were out there? Your driver is completely parked—parallel with nothing to spare—like he’s not budging for jack!
CHRISTINE starts heading toward the car as lights fade on her. Lights up downstage right. JOANNA is standing outside her car (which can be made from four chairs placed in two rows, center stage.) She too is talking on her cell phone.
JOANNA: Louisa, it’s Mami. I have not heard back from you. Perhaps you are not getting my messages? I’ve left quite a few…See? I’m speaking English like you want me to with your family! If it is okay with you, I would like to stop by later to see you and Giselle. Ah! I like to say that name. Giselle. It is a good name you chose. I am sorry there is another call. Maybe it is you calling? (she takes the other call) Louisa?!
(Pause as she listens and takes in her surroundings)
What is the problem!? I am standing in front of 422 Olin, watching a sloppy person move slowly down the steps, almost as if she may turn around any moment and make other arrangements just for spite.
Lights low on JOANNA and up on CHRISTINE still on cell.
CHRISTINE: He should have honked.
(Pause)
No, you’re wrong. There IS a difference. Blue is a primary color—silver is off the wheel in its own category. I was an art major —oh never mind.
Lights low on CHRISTINE up on JOANNA.
JOANNA: Yah yah. She is here.
Lights full. CHRISTINE walks right by JOANNA, not seeing her.
CHRISTINE: Okay, I see a car and no driver.
(Pause)
Where?
JOANNA: Nincompoop.
Closes her cell.
CHRISTINE: Oh. Well, you should have said—you never sent a woman before.
Closes her cell. Crosses to JOANNA.
CHRISTINE: They never sent a woman before.
JOANNA: I am in between jobs.
CHRISTINE: This car is silver, by the way.
JOANNA: It is a Saab.
CHRISTINE: I’m talking about the color. It’s not blue, as I was initially told to look for – it’s silver.
JOANNA: Color is not important. It is the engine that—
CHRISTINE: It is important when your customer is spending half an hour looking for a non-existent blue Saab!
JOANNA: Ah! It is the light—
CHRISTINE: No. It’s not the light. Don’t go there. I’m a professional. I know all about “the light.” This car is silver.
She attempts to get into the backseat. It is a tight squeeze.
Whoa. You gotta liquefy yourself to fit back here?
JOANNA moves the passenger seat forward. Both women take their seats. In the cab a small gift-wrapped package sits prominently on the front passenger seat.
JOANNA: Where to?
CHRISTINE: You don’t know? What am I paying you for?
JOANNA: But you have not paid me anything.
CHRISTINE: Because you have not done anything to be paid for!
JOANNA: I’ve driven here for no other reason than to pick you up and take you to—
CHRISTINE digs in her bag and retrieves a dollar bill.
CHRISTINE: Here’s a dollar.
JOANNA: No. I take no money until the job is done.
CHRISTINE: (appealing upwards to another dimension) Universe, please do your best to bless this person to whom I am entrusting my life. (turning to Joanna) 1404 Elmwood Avenue.
JOANNA: The clinic?
CHRISTINE: Yes.
JOANNA: Oh.
CHRISTINE: Oh? What’s that supposed to mean?
JOANNA: It means oh. Why?
CHRISTINE: (under her breath) Sounded like it meant something.
JOANNA: Sorry?
CHRISTINE: For what?
JOANNA: If you have something to say to me—
CHRISTINE: You said “oh” when I said the clinic—as if that changes things.
JOANNA: I try to be nicer to sick people.
CHRISTINE: I’m not sick. I’m just going through some challenges.
JOANNA: What is this mess (indicating the traffic)?
CHRISTINE: (on cell) Hello, this is Christine Valentina—I have a one o’clock dialysis appointment…
JOANNA: (raging at another driver) NINCOMPOOP! Putting in contact lenses when driving! You might as well shoot everyone at this intersection. It would be the same outcome.
CHRISTINE: (still on the phone) I’m running a little behind—(Pause). Well, as soon as possible. (to JOANNA) How long do you think it’s gonna take?
JOANNA: I cannot tell you.
CHRISTINE: They need to know at the clinic.
JOANNA: There’s a Ouija board under the back seat which you may consult.
CHRISTINE: Are you a stand-up comedian? (to the phone) I’ll be there in twenty minutes.
JOANNA: I cannot believe this! (counting in German) zwei, drei, vier —four drivers on cell phones in my frontal vision only. Yak yak yak. Some people should be assassinated for their driving.
CHRISTINE: (hangs up phone) Okay, now you gotta hurry up.
JOANNA: Do you not see this traffic?
CHRISTINE takes a calming breath then leans over the front passenger seat.
CHRISTINE: I do, and it’s going to start moving…see? Now do NOT stop on yellow. Nobody does. And it’s okay to keep going just as soon as it turns red. It’s kinda expected.
JOANNA: Please do not tell me how to drive.
CHRISTINE: I’m trying to help here. I’ve been doing this schlep three times a week for close to two years. I’m Christine, by the way. You’re…(looking at license) Joanna Gottschalk? Like you need something to write with —Joanna gots chalk! Ha! That was really dumb.
JOANNA: Gutzschalk.
CHRISTINE: Gutz chalk. Gottcha. What’s this (the package)? You got something at Tater Tots!? They’ve got the cutest things!
JOANNA: It is overpriced.
CHRISTINE: You hafta buy on sale. Hey—I bet you would look really good in …voila!
Takes out a vibrantly colored scarf from her bag, holding it to JOANNA’s face.
Would you look at that? Wow. Not many people can wear this color. With those eyes… You were born to wear this color. Whadda think?
JOANNA: I do not bother with accessories.
CHRISTINE: Again—I am talking about the color. Oh, never mind. Okay, this is good. We’re moving. You could speed it up a little.
JOANNA: This is not the Autobahn.
CHRISTINE: Yeah, well…you gotta go when the going’s good.
CHRISTINE sits back and starts rooting through her bag, taking out a day planner, bottle of water, make-up kit, iPod, gum—making the back seat a temporary home for herself. JOANNA discreetly observes her in the rearview mirror.
CHRISTINE: You’re new, aren’t you?
JOANNA: I was an engineer in my country.
CHRISTINE: Huh?
JOANNA: I surpass qualifications for this job. I am an expert driver.
CHRISTINE: Yeah? I’m an expert back seat driver-slash-navigator, and I got news for you—this lane is no good. It’s gonna bottleneck in about a quarter mile. Okay? I’m tellin’ ya—it’s gonna happen, and you’re gonna be sorry you didn’t listen to me.
She puts in earplugs, takes out a few more scarves, wrapping them around her corresponding chakras, while singing to upbeat music on her iPod.
The singing is just as discomforting to JOANNA as was the unpacking. After a moment, JOANNA waves in the rear view mirror to get her attention.
JOANNA: KIDNEY?
CHRISTINE: (removing one earplug) WHAT?!
JOANNA: KIDNEY? Is the dialysis you’re receiving—KIDNEY?
CHRISTINE: Is there any other kind?
JOANNA: Of dialysis?
CHRISTINE: Yeah! Do you know of any other kind of dialysis?
JOANNA: Me? I’m not current on all the latest engineering to keep people up and running long past their time. I will not let that happen to me. When my number is up—I go. I made all necessary arrangements on my twenty-first birthday in a course on funeral preparation at the university. To receive full credit, we had to write a personal living will. I carry a copy on my person.
She pops open the glove compartment, takes out a manila envelope and holds it up with importance.
CHRISTINE: WELL GOOD FOR YOU!
JOANNA: I’m just telling you about my own preferences—
CHRISTINE: (ripping off her headset—roaring) PREFERENCES? Preferences??? You think it is my preference to have a machine do my pissing for me????
JOANNA: Perhaps that was not the correct word.
CHRISTINE: Jeez!
She plops back into the seat, puts in earplugs, resumes singing and grooming. The singing grows louder.
JOANNA: (yelling) WHY NOT GET A NEW KIDNEY?
CHRISTINE: (ripping off the headset again) WHAT??
JOANNA: A new kidney! Rather than try to fix this one—it will never be as good as it was before—why not start fresh with a new kidney?
CHRISTINE: WHAT PLANET ARE YOU ON?
JOANNA: I am from East Berlin. Excuse me, but I am only trying to help with a suggestion—
CHRISTINE: I AM TRYING TO GET A NEW KIDNEY! I’VE BEEN ON A LIST FOR OVER TWO YEARS.
JOANNA: What is the hold up?
CHRISTINE: The hold up?! They can’t find the right match.
JOANNA: Match?
CHRISTINE: Blood type. I’m type O. O for ZERO. I’m a universal donor. I can give my kidney to anybody but—here’s the good part—I can only accept a kidney from another shmuck like myself with O type. The only way I’m going to get a kidney from a type O is catching them on the way to the morgue.
JOANNA: Tsk, tsk, tsk. This cannot be good for you—
CHRISTINE: You know, you have a lousy, lousy bedside manner! If this is your idea of being nice—it’s lousy!
Returns earplugs and finds a song more reflective of her mood on her iPod.
JOANNA: (loudly and perhaps to herself—trying not to be irritated by the singing) This is not a bedside—this is a moving vehicle surrounded by thousands of other moving vehicles. Look around you. Containers of highly explosive fluids, soaring —and how they do not smash into each other more often is the result of intelligence, focus and discipline. You want me to just snap my fingers and become soft and gushy, abandon my steering wheel and come back there and … what… give you a hug? Nice? The meaning of the word is relative.
(Pause as she notices a traffic jam ahead)
What is this mess??
SOUND CUE: Traffic, horns, etc.,
JOANNA: (waving her hand to allow someone into the lane)
You see, I am being nice. I let this person into the lane—and now you see, they think I am some stupid idiot, and everyone tries to cut me off. That is nice for you. People do not respect nice.
CHRISTINE: (loudly) I would love to take a big long, long, hard piss. In a toilet, or a meadow…
JOANNA: There is no benefit in being nice. Please do not urinate in my car.
CHRISTINE is brushing her hair, enjoying the feel of the brush on her scalp. JOANNA is watching her in the mirror. CHRISTINE catches JOANNA’s stare.
CHRISTINE: What?
JOANNA: If you please…
CHRISTINE: Yes?
JOANNA: Other people must sit back there.
CHRISTINE: Now? You’re picking someone up now? You can’t do that!
JOANNA: No. Other times. Please mind your hair.
CHRISTINE: Oh. Why didn’t you just say so?
Whilst singing, she casually pulls a big clump of hair from her hairbrush, rolls down the window and releases it from her fingers. JOANNA watches in horror, CHRISTINE again catches her eye.
CHRISTINE: Relax. It’s hair.
JOANNA: Littering is against the law—
CHRISTINE: It’s not litter, it’s natural.
JOANNA: It is a violation—
CHRISTINE: It will decompose.
JOANNA: It is garbage!
CHRISTINE: My hair is not garbage! It’s my best feature!
JOANNA: That is beside the point.
CHRISTINE: Gotcha. Garbage.
JOANNA: There are cameras everywhere—
CHRISTINE: And they’ve got nothing better to do than watch you and your Silver Saab because you are just so friggin’ important in this world! Jeez!
CHRISTINE plops back into the seat and puts in her earplugs. She begins singing—with more voice and emotion than before. JOANNA struggles to maintain equilibrium, but after a few bars she must surrender.
JOANNA: PLEASE!! The singing! I am not a fan of music! It comes into my space, it takes my focus and tries to control my mind and emotions…
CHRISTINE: (deeply affected) That is the most horrible thing I have ever heard. I feel very sorry for you.
CHRISTINE opens her window and continues singing while squeezing her upper body through the back window, arms flailing; she is singing to the universe.
JOANNA: What the—? You are making a spectacle—! Get in the car! There are police personnel—! If you don’t get in this car in five seconds, I’m pulling over— ! Fünf, vier, drei, zwei, eins. I refuse to be imprisoned for your criminal acts!
JOANNA makes an exit off the main road, continues, driving unsure as to where she is going. Projections and sound cues can be used to enhance this action. CHRISTINE stops singing and removes her earplugs during the following.
JOANNA: (shaking her head and speaking German) Dies ist nicht das leben dass ich fur mich vor hatte. Sklave zu eine dicke, faule, schlampe… Ich habe hart gearbeitet. Es ist ungerecht. Jetzt sind wir falsch gefahren. (Verdamt mal!)
She stops the car. Projection of a woodsy area.
Scene II
CHRISTINE: This isn’t the clinic.
JOANNA: (quietly) All day I drive. For five years. I drive and listen to people, and I do not know what for. It has gotten me nowhere. I am driving to stand still.
(Pause)
Ach! All this talk of kidneys.
JOANNA gets out of the car and marches off stage. During the following, CHRISTINE will exit the car.
CHRISTINE: HEY! Driver? GOTS CHALK! I don’t think this is a legal parking spot here! HEY! So if you’re gonna be worried about cops – now’s the time!
The lighting slowly turns to gray during the following scene.
We hear a sound of a healthy flow of urine hitting the ground. CHRISTINE listens. This sound affects her emotionally.
CHRISTINE: Bitch!
She wanders a bit aimlessly in circles, taking in calming breaths. After a moment she takes out her cell. After wandering aimlessly on the cell, she makes a call.
CHRISTINE: Hi Mom.
(Pause)
It’s Christine. How’s your leg? You had a boil or something last time we talked.
(Pause)
Ingrown hair? Right. What happened?
(Pause as she listens to gory details)
Uh huh.
(Pause)
Mom, I’m on my cell so I can’t—
(Pause)
I’m on my way there. That’s why I’m calling… Did you ask Aunt Katherine if any of those cousins—
(Pause)
Please, just ask them, Mom.
(Pause)
Yes, I am doing everything—it’s hard to exercise!
(Pause)
I haven’t had a drink in two years. Mother, I never had a drinking problem. That’s not why this happened. It’s the diabetes!
(Pause)
I’m not shouting
(Pause)
Yes, I know: “I have only myself to blame—”
(Pause)
Oh, he is? Are Janet and the kids coming too?
(Pause)
Okay, I’ll let you go. Say hi to everybody for me! Mom?
MOM has hung up, which is not a huge surprise, but still hurtful. CHRISTINE shuffles around a bit, takes out her IPOD, puts in earplugs, and after a moment sings a heart-wrenching ballad.
Singing fades, lighting down on CHRISTINE. Spotlight on JOANNA on her cell phone. She is another part of the forest.
JOANNA: Louisa, please pick up, it is too long we don’t speak. Louisa….I am sorry… I am sorry for rejecting your pregnancy with a man of color. It was for fear for you and the child that you would not be accepted. I see that I was …I am incorrect…Louisa, this new world…I cannot find my place.
(Pause)
I am so happy for your happiness in your marriage and your child.
She has been cut off. She tries to access the call again.
JOANNA: Louisa, I want to hold my grandchild. Please let me—
She has been cut off again, but continues speaking.
JOANNA: I have a gift for her…
CHRISTINE’s singing finds its way through the trees to JOANNA’s part of the forest. She puts her phone in her pocket. Light down on JOANNA. Full lights back up on CHRISTINE singing. Her colorful scarves sit in a shredded pile. CHRISTINE has taken a turn for the worse – she is pale and in pain. JOANNA, her emotions contained, enters. CHRISTINE stops singing.
JOANNA: Can we go now?
CHRISTINE is slow in her response, trying to conceal her deteriorated state.
JOANNA: What has happened?
CHRISTINE: You are so lucky!
JOANNA: That is far from true.
CHRISTINE: To be able to pee with such gusto!
JOANNA: You are emotional because I urinated?
CHRISTINE: You know it’s really hard to stay positive!
JOANNA: Positive! Ach. Stupid. It is twenty-seven past one—
CHRISTINE: I can’t do this anymore! I’m sick and alone, and I can’t afford a good haircut or decent make-up…. Take me home. I don’t want the dialysis.
JOANNA: But we are very close to the clini—
CHRISTINE: (Interrupts) I wasn’t always this fat, bloated, lazy person. I took three years of German by the way. I used to be HOT. Life was FUN. I never wanted to sit down. I’ll sleep when I’m dead. That was my motto. What do I have to get out of bed for now? A trip to the clinic with the off chance the driver will be cute? FYI – these trips are the highlight of my week, I’ll have you know. And this trip today—really, really, sucked big time!
JOANNA: Please, Miss Valentina, I did not mean to insult—
CHRISTINE: You think I haven’t heard it in English? Please. Fat Stinky Fuck sounds exotic in German.
JOANNA: That is not exactly what I said—but we should go now.
CHRISTINE: What’s the point? ‘Cause when that type O comes up, which it does every now and then, you think they’re gonna give it to me? They are not going to keep me ‘up and running past my time’.
JOANNA: Why should they not give the kidney to you?
CHRISTINE: I am a low priority in the eyes of the American Medical Association.
JOANNA: I do not understand.
CHRISTINE: I have no husband, no kids. I had to put my goldfish down last August. I have a spider plant! Are you getting the picture here?! (she smacks her arm) I’m getting bitten. Let’s get out of here.
She crosses to the car. JOANNA follows.
JOANNA: You may sit in the front seat if you prefer.
CHRISTINE: Yeah? Alright. Can you push –
JOANNA has beaten her to it and has pushed the seat back. CHRISTINE has picked up the package in order to sit in the seat. She explores the gift as JOANNA crosses to the driver’s side. It is a music box.
CHRISTINE: I thought you didn’t like music.
JOANNA: It is a gift for my granddaughter.
CHRISTINE: You have a granddaughter?
JOANNA: I do.
CHRISTINE: That’s nice. To have a daughter or granddaughter. Does she look like you?
JOANNA: That is hard to say. You may open it.
CHRISTINE: But it’s a gift –
JOANNA: It would be a—how do you say…? A favor. I did not examine it for flaws.
CHRISTINE: Flaws? Gotcha.
She takes it out of the box and winds it up. The music projects clearly. It is a high-end music box and CHRISTINE enjoys the tune. The song “Edelweiss” fills the car.
CHRISTINE: Sounds good to me. (looking out the window) Wait. You gotta turn around —I want you to take me home.
JOANNA: I cannot do that.
CHRISTINE: Yeah, you can! I told you—
JOANNA: Please—
She reaches across CHRISTINE – pops open the glove compartment as she did before. She takes out the envelope and hands it to CHRISTINE. She reaches in deeper and pulls out a bottle of water.
CHRISTINE: I don’t want to read your living will—
JOANNA: (handing her the bottle) For you.
CHRISTINE: This I want. Thank you. (she takes a long drink)
JOANNA: Now, please look on page three.
CHRISTINE: Ahhh! Water never tasted so good.
JOANNA: Tears will dehydrate.
CHRISTINE: Yeah, well…(wide-eyed, taking in her new perspective) It’s different in the front seat.
JOANNA: Page three. They are single-sided pages.
CHRISTINE: We’re almost at the clinic.
JOANNA: The traffic is good.
CHRISTINE: I don’t want the dialysis!
JOANNA: You see page three!
CHRISTINE: Okay, okay. I gotta get my glasses. (she gets her glasses from her bag in the back seat.)
JOANNA: This is good. I can enjoy driving when there is reasonable traffic.
CHRISTINE: You’re gonna have to dismantle the car around me—
JOANNA: That is not a problem.
CHRISTINE: —because I’m not getting out.
JOANNA: It is right at the top of the page—
JOANNA puts her finger at a point on the page. CHRISTINE reads.
CHRISTINE: Alright already. Height, sixty-five inches. Weight, one hundred thirty pounds. Blood type, O.
JOANNA: For what do I need TWO kidneys? You heard me urinate. Strong. If you will allow me to—I would like to be your match.
CHRISTINE: Wait a sec. You want to give me a kidney?
JOANNA: Yes.
CHRISTINE: So, you hurt my feelings. Just say you’re sorry, and don’t do it again—
JOANNA: I cannot promise that.
CHRISTINE: You don’t have to rip out a kidney!
JOANNA: It is my kidney. I can do what I want with it.
CHRISTINE: You know they’re gonna want to do some tests.
JOANNA: Yes, I understand—
CHRISTINE: Including a psychological—
JOANNA: And I will pass.
CHRISTINE: This is nuts. Why would you do this? Give a vital organ to a perfect stranger?
JOANNA: You need. I have. It makes good sense.
CHRISTINE: Don’t play with me. I’ve had enough emotion for one day.
JOANNA: You are not a stranger. After this ride, I consider you one of my closest acquaintances in this country.
SILENCE.
CHRISTINE winds the music box and music begins to play.
JOANNA: It’s good?
CHRISTINE: Yeah. It’s real good. (offering water) Do you want ..?
JOANNA takes the water, sips, hands the bottle back to CHRISTINE.
END OF PLAY
Terri Campion is a New York based Writer/Actor/Educator. Terri’s plays have been produced and staged in various venues in New York and New Jersey and most recently at The Bank Street Theater, with the premiere of her one-act play, “My Girl” in January 2026. Her novel in stories, adapted from her award-winning solo show, “Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow,” was published by Willow River Press in April 2024. Other writings have appeared in Washington Square Review; Inkwell Journal; Meriwether; Smith & Kraus. Terri is a member of both the Dramatists Guild and the Authors Guild. She is currently working on a theatrical version of her book and a few other one-acts.
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