I sat next to a fuzzy pink mustache on a couch in the middle of A’Bulae in Lowertown St. Paul. The same guy who once showed up for a party six hours early was now in this empty ballroom, 20 minutes before its start time, like a smartphone-toting ghost. I drifted between scanning the ballroom and researching this … Lyft … I hadn’t heard of it until I was invited to this party.

Immediately in front of me, a man was setting up a s’more bar; beyond that, a photography station was being assembled. Mustaches similar to my couch-mate were stationed on wooden beams throughout. At my 10 o’clock, beyond the band warming up, a giant iPod rest on an easel. The open bar was getting set to start, and food was being set everywhere.

Lyft was bashing to celebrate the start of their service in St. Paul. I had two thoughts: First, an open bar to celebrate launching a ride-sharing app? Doesn’t that seem … BUT, how do you get the attention of somebody in Minnesota? Yes. You buy beer. And Lyft became one of my best friends before they were officially even here.

Lyft centers on folks driving folks when they’re unable to drive themselves (let’s be honest: that means drunk). Through it, you arrange your pick-up and pay via donation. That’s right: Technically, you don’t have to pay for this. 

You will, though. Your name, address, and a credit card are required to register. The driver and passenger review each other at the ride’s end, making stiffers unlikely get serviced, and it won’t be hard to find out who was in the car if shenanigans go down. Their safety information is easily accessible on the website.

The scope of on-demand ride-sharing was utterly lost on me until Thursday night, when I discussed it with Lyft representatives shipped in from their headquarters/birthplace of San Francisco.* It didn’t matter who I asked or what; their people were ready. What excited me about Lyft was their confidence – not only were they unafraid to discuss their opposition, they were enthusiastic to do so.

Flashback: I remember seeing a booth for a company called Uber at the Rasberry Festival brewfest in Hopkins a month ago. I remember seeing the neon tanks and shades they were slinging, thinking “WTF is Uber?” and walking away.

Turns out, Uber has been in this business for a few years and is already a multi-billion-dollar international company. Uber and Lyft are only kind-of competitors, though. Uber bills themselves as a premium chauffeur outfit, and their website pounds the point home with a piledriver; Lyft sells themselves as “Your friend with a car.” Uber passengers have door service and sit in the back seat; Lyft passengers get a fist-bump and shotgun. Lyft drivers are encouraged to have snacks in the car, water bottles, and tchotchkes of local flavor to give. So, yes but no.

Yet, Uber felt threatened enough to launch this ad campaign in San Francisco. If the comments are any indication, it went about as well as Sylvester the Cat’s bird-eating campaigns.

So it comes with little surprise Lyft showed up in a pink fuzz of confidence. Even at the onset of the party, when I was basically the only guest in the place, spokespeople mingled with panache. I took the lack of people lining up for the open bar troubling, but desperation never set in on the floor.

They were right. Within 15 minutes, scores of guests were lined up at the bar, taking pictures with giant sunglasses and horse head masks, and emptying the slider cart. It’s worth mentioning that, guests included, I didn’t meet a single asshole here. Conversationally, I was likely the most inept of the lot.

*I spoke with Lyft reps casually, thus the lack of direct quotes. What was I going to do, tell them I was “Frank with The Kinked Slinky?” If I said that to myself in the mirror, my own reflection would probably walk away. Yet another reason for the upcoming name change.

Uber aside, Lyft’s greatest opposition swerves maniacally through downtown in already-established taxi cabs. In San Francisco, taxi services are scrambling to imitate Lyft’s methods to keep up. In St. Paul, the local government is keeping an eye on Lyft as the experience of social ride-sharing really takes shape.

For now, the 50-60 drivers signed up with the ‘stache are free to pick you up in St. Paul and take you anywhere you need to go within 60 miles. The general impression, at the party and on the Internet, is the rest of the Twinkies will follow suit soon enough.

I partied for two-and-a-half hours before wandering back into the sticky St. Paul air. I left with the impression Lyft has their heads on straight about their expansion. With their fashionably-misspelled name … and, oh, did I mention those pink mustaches go on the front of the drivers’ cars!? … this company will be elevated or struck dead by our younger everything-connected-to-Facebook generation. I’d say they’re marketing correctly, but that means I’ve got about four months to try this before I’m too old and creepy for it (I probably am already, but the window isn’t exactly locked shut yet).

I walked back to my car, and it was then I thought of something Lyft might not have when launching in St. Paul. Those mustaches … these bugs … I hope they’re giving out scotch guard with those things.