Interestingly enough, one of the other women I've been hanging out with in my building during the quarantine also tested positive for the antibodies so that's good news. Courts opening officially soon so that makes me very happy! Weather has been lovely. Finally got my pantry organized (see below). No, Mom, that's not really cocaine! Just me being a smartass.
I'm also damn close to touching my toes so that yoga shit must really be working! When I do, there will be video evidence. Those are my silver linings for the week. What are yours? Not easy lifting identifying the positive this week.
Appears the world is going to hell in a hand basket. City-wide curfew because of all the looting and violence overnight is now in place. Makes me sick and so mad to think that greedy opportunists have destroyed what should have been a powerful message delivered through peaceful protest. So today we all have to dig a bit deeper for those "glass half full" thoughts. They are always there though.
The logistics of moving about in the city
As I have mentioned before, one of the things I dislike most about living in the city is just the required logistics of moving from place to place. If you live in a city, you spend an inordinate amount of time and money just moving your own ass around. Cabs, parking tickets, traffic at all times of day and night, red light cameras, and of course, your city sticker — all part of the fun and expense of driving in the city.
We touched on my parallel parking phobia and my road rage-fueled potty mouth in a previous blog. City drivers really are the worst (and yes, I'm now including myself in this group). Driving in the cities isn't about being nice, it's about survival. It's war out there and blinkers are a sign of weakness.
The bottom line is that getting around any big city is a grind. It requires real effort. Public transportation is cheap and efficient, but sketchy at certain times of the night so I typically defer to ride sharing, either Uber or Lyft.
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When I first moved here, I asked my brother-in-law about the logistics of getting to the airport since he's a consultant and travels weekly for his job. I live within a mile and a half of Wrigley so in the summer when the Cubs are in town, finding an Uber can be an issue. I liked the idea of scheduling a ride but Uber didn't have that ability at the time. He mentioned the idea of finding a driver I like from a ride share and using them as a regular driver.
"No Speed" Naveed
My first trip to the airport after I moved here, I used Uber and got a lovely Indian driver named Naveed. He was extremely polite, his car was spotless and smelled like exotic spices, and he appeared to be a calm yet confident driver, not erratic like many cab drivers. I often get car sick in cabs because of the quick starts and stops. He was married and had kids the same age as mine.
As we made our way to the highway, I asked if he had ever driven anyone outside of Uber. He said he had not. So we worked out a deal; we exchanged cell numbers and he promised to buy a Square device so I could expense my airport trips. It was a perfect situation. Until it wasn't.
Soon we got to the highway, which is about the halfway point to O'Hare. I was a bit alarmed by his merging speed, which seemed equivalent to a fast golf cart. We fortunately we able to merge in but then I noticed Naveed was topping out speed-wise around 50 MPH. Might seem wise but on a highway in Chicago where the average speed is probably around 70, this is not a wise strategy. Very old women were flying past us.
I texted my brother-in-law Greg about my current rather unfortunately situation. His response, "hahahaha, you hired "No-Speed" Naveed?" Very clever but not funny. I eventually got over his centurion driving style and just appreciated that when I had a flight, Naveed always show up on time to get me there and then come back and bring me home. I just built in the extra 10-15 minutes it took us to get there.
Looking back there were a few oddities, or red flags. One time, he picked up me and the kids after a ski trip to Colorado. He had a pretty small car so I sat in front and the kids in back. It was Christmas Eve around 9 pm and Naveed asks, "What are we feeding the children." I could see Ben's expression from the back seat, conveying confusion. I think my response was whatever had not turned ugly in the fridge while we were away. Oh no, he insisted on calling restaurants for us. No, that's not necessary, Naveed. Later he texted me and asked if I would be sharing vacation pictures. I didn't respond.
I will say Naveed never missed a holiday: Mother's Day, Valentine's Day, Easter, Christmas, always thinking to text me images of flowers. It's the thought that counts, right? My kids definitely thought I needed to end my working relationship with Naveed, but it was very convenient and he was if nothing else, quite reliable.
Well, all of this came to a crashing halt one day. I had a flight to Boston for work. I came out to get in the car and first I noticed that Naveed seemed to be a bit more dressed up than usual. He jumped out to assist with my bag but then instead of opening up the back door, he opened up the passenger door. I paused for a moment, but didn't want to make it awkward so I got in. Immediately I noticed an overwhelming smell. He was burning incense that was attached to the cigarette lighter. His car smelled like a hookah bar. Signaling my dislike by frantically waving my hands in disgust, he quickly detached it.
I initiated the normal chit chat, asking him how things were going. He solemnly shook his head. Oh no. Yes, apparently he and his wife were getting divorced. Oh man, I suddenly am not liking where this is going. He then starts asking me about some type of Indian shirt, name of which I don't remember. No, I do not have a shirt like that. His next question was what size am I? Wait, no, Uber drivers don't buy their passengers things. Then he asks about some restaurant and at this point I just feign that I can't understand him. In my head, I'm starting to fight the urge to just throw myself out of the car — because let's face it; we probably were not going that fast.
As we approach the airport, he starts driving slower and slower, perhaps sensing my vibe. Cars are quite literally flying by us on all sides. I finally scream, "Naveed, you are going to get us killed if you don't speed up." He sped up a bit. When we blessedly finally arrived at my drop off, I jumped out immediately, thinking to myself, Naveed, this is the end of the line for us. Perhaps he sensed that too because when I asked for the receipt, suddenly he seemed unable, or perhaps unwilling, to produce it. He kept saying, "Don't worry, you can pay me when you come back." Nope, that's not happening. For one, I'm never getting in a car with him again, but I decided that was more than I could handle communicating at this point. I explained how I can't pay him unless I have a receipt but again, he said insisted I not worry about it.
I was just happy to be out of his car. So I go through security, board my plane and take my shitty middle seat in the back of the plane. Then my boss calls and tells me that the people I am coming to meet did not make their flight from Paris so the whole meeting was getting rescheduled. Do you have any other meetings here, she asked. After replying no, so she simply said, "get off the plane then." I didn't even know you could do that, but I had no checked luggage, so what the hell? I grabbed my bag, put it on my head and swam upstream like salmon to get off the plane. I'm sure people were speculating: panic attack? Sudden change in plans? Curiously not a single person asked why I was suddenly de-planing. Though the gate agent did shout, "what seat were you?" so they could at least fill my crappy seat.
I took a cab home. Later in the week, I started getting texts from Naveed. I knew explaining the entire scenario would be too much. When are you coming back? What time is your flight? I responded that I had not actually gone to Boston, so I would not be needing a ride home from the airport. "Oh, ok, so what time should I come?" This insane text conversation went round and round until I finally stopped responding. He just could not accept the reality: this would be the end of the road for us. He has been added to the "blocked" list on my phone, along with a hefty handful of dates that went sideways on me after I gave them my cell number.
Thanks as always for reading and I hope this finds you all well or at least surviving.
Until next time. Namaste.
Barb
Missed any blogs? You can catch up with the past blogs with links below:
It's About DamnTime: Barb's First Blog
6 Tips for Working from Home
Celebrating Love Amid Dark Days
Derelict Driving and My 15 Minutes of Fame
Are We Living Through the Greatest Depression?
Why is Mother's Day a Day and Not a Week?
No-Speed Naveed and the Joys of Urban Transport
Shapewear and The Costs of Being Female
Golf, the Cruel Mistress of Summer
2021: A New Year, a New Outlook
Bidding Adieu to a Wonderful Summer
The Time Machine in the Garage
The Benefits of Being a Certain Age
There's a Sandwich in Every Beer
Remembering the Big Ass Christmas Party
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