I would love to read a blog about the people Uber drivers meet. I can’t even speculate on just how ridiculous and random some of the stories would be. So I shouldn’t have been surprised when my most recent Uber driver turned out to be quite the storyteller.
My lower back and hip flexor sprains had kept me mostly housebound for far too long. Since I struggled to stand for more than 5 minutes at a time, I couldn’t walk the two measly blocks to the bus. But I was determined to actually make it to the pinball arcade bar that my boyfriend and his coworkers often frequented. Of course I would be consuming some sort of alcoholic beverage, because, you know, it’s a bar. That meant I couldn’t drive. Thus the Uber. As I sat waiting on the curb, feeling pathetic that I couldn’t stand for the 4 minutes it would take for my car to arrive, the familiar anxiety that comes with being confined with a stranger grew. As soon as I got in the car I told my driver about my injury. I expected the socially mandated “I’m sorry to hear that,” followed by silence. I was pleasantly surprised when he asked me how I hurt myself. I blurted out cliff jumping, and then explained that it was only about a 10-foot jump and therefore doesn’t really qualify. Since I usually hurt myself tripping over my own feet, I was just excited to have a semi-cool story. Then my driver pointed out that he never would have known the difference. In fact, he thought we should come up with a far more fascinating story. So the silliness began as we thought of far more interesting ways for me to get injured. First I was a MMA fighter. Then I was a skydiver. At one point, I was even bucked off a mechanical bull. We actually arrived at our destination before we ran out of ideas. I hope I get to ride with him again some day. Maybe we will even invent reasons for bad traffic. I bet he has some stories.