I can’t say I necessarily love taking an uber. I feel like I find myself overestimating their arrival time and painfully waiting ages for them to arrive which leads to underestimating them the next time I order an uber, subsequently speed-walking in hysteria to desperately avoid their dreaded call asking where I am. Not to mention the heightened panic caused by my tainted gen-z inability to drive anywhere without the use of a GPS. Waze, my beloved confidant, you may constantly put me at risk of car crash as you cover my screen with an ad each time I stop at an intersection, but you’re anti-cop; and that’s more than most of my extended family can say. But I think the worst part about an uber is the drive itself. I’ll be honest, people who uber for a living have tricked out cars. From the hand sanitizer to the candy, and even the light reads on famous Jewish athletes, are all excellent additions that have enhanced my experience. But the conversations? Almost nonexistent. Of course, a majority of uber drivers have over 4 stars; but honestly that has the same prestige as getting into an honors society program in the American school system. I get the transactional nature of uber, but I swear you could hear a pin drop in those cars! Is it the driver’s responsibility, as the worker, to start a little conversation? As the one calling upon these essential workers, is the ball in my court? Maybe I’m overthinking it, but in my year in Burlington I’ve had a few drivers that have made these obligatory rides just a little more bearable.
One of my highs as an uber-er came after explaining to my friend about Schrödinger’s Cat. For those of you not in the loop, all I’m gonna say is if you get it you get it, if you know you know, and you either get the vibe or you don’t get the vibe. Okay maybe that was a bit harsh, sorry. Long story short, think “if a tree falls in the woods with no one to hear, does it make a sound?” but that tree is a curious cat trapped in a box with a 50/50 shot of dying from a bomb that could detonate at random. Basically, if no one can perceive anything in the box, this cat is simultaneously alive and dead and as a CAS student whose only exposure to this phenomenon is from a visual novel from 2012 and The Big Bang Theory, I felt pretty confident in my explanation. Someone who didn’t feel the same way was the driver, who apparently is studying this exact phenomenon in grad school. I guess this dude was fully a quantum physicist, I think? Honestly, I’m a Spanish major. I’m not cut out for this shit.
For the longest time, I had only done it with guys. I experienced man after man that I reached a point where I didn’t even consider doing it with a woman. And then came Janet. Before I continue, I want you to stop and think: when was the last time you had a female uber driver? Up until I crossed paths with my minivan marvel, I had realized that Janet was popping my female uber driver cherry. And it was nothing like I had ever experienced before. It’s probably a man thing, but I swear every other uber driver has been so hard to talk to. But talking to Janet felt like home. I know a bit about her life before moving to Burlington, her little chihuahua, hell, I’d say I have at least a 1 in 12 shot at guessing her zodiac sign. Frankly I have nothing comical to add to my experience, I’m just begging you all to be on the lookout for Janet the next time you uber. Wife, mother, human being.
Now, I was gonna wrap this article up with a recent voyage I had. One that involved a car being towed, identity theft, and a weirdly intimate finger-printing session with a police officer, but I’m getting kinda fat and greedy with this word count and I want to make sure I have all the time to give you the full inside scoop of one of the craziest days, let alone uber rides, that I’ve had since being back on campus. I wish everyone reading a lovely, fulfilling day, tip your uber drivers, and stay tuned for more…
Categories: oct. 12, reflections, vol 25