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The wife only had one
rule for the day: We were not to turn this into a pub-crawl. Luckily an
official crawl appears to need six different establishments. We got to five and
retired to a friend’s house.
Anyone rolling their
eyes and wondering why I appear to be running through what sounds like a normal
mundane weekend for them, firstly, fuck your excess time and money, secondly I
have no intention of relating the minor aspects of the day so calm down. To other
parents hopeful of perhaps living vicariously through the journey, sorry, it
just wasn’t enthralling enough to list again here. Sure, we drank too much, we
ate all the wrong foods and then spoke adulty stuff with other adults. We had
become people again. This isn’t about any of that though.
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Just add cats.
Also more wine.
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I’m picking this
story up right after I ordered a Uber and then almost immediately received a
phone call. Lots of static and then a woman screaming that she was at church or
in her words, “I church. You wait some?”. I was about to agree that was fine, I
wasn’t in a hurry anyway, when she qualified, “This second time. I do for
laughs.” And then hung up. I didn’t know how to take this, should I order
another? How does this even work? We watched the status in the Uber app
anxiously but within five minutes the little car symbol began moving towards
us, so win.
A 40ish year old
Asian lady greeted us as we got into the BMW SUV. “This is second time, “ she
told us and then she gave us a big smile and because of that big smile but
probably more because I was in a real happy place right then, I thought we had
a connection. “We going here?” she asked and pointed at her phone, connected to
the dash.
“Sure, follow the
little voice. “, I advised, noting that she had not started her phone app and
my wife had opened Spotify and was in the early stages of drunkenly rocking
out. Before I could back that off a little we had reached an intersection.
“Which way?”, was her predictable question. I told her left and then we
proceeded to have long conversation (loudly because my wife had found Sir
Mix-a-lot
and was singing happily about enjoying big butts) about
which side of the car was left. Because apparently, “Yes”, “That way” and “No,
the other way” are all synonyms for “Turn right”.
At least she had told
the phone app to start directing her at that point. Which it did, loudly and in
another language. But apparently was unrelated chatter because she never used
or listened to it any further in the trip.
“You give stars?”,
she asked during a break in the singing from the back, referring to her Uber rating I assume. “Two times.” She added proudly,
holding up two fingers and looking back at us and thereby veering down the
centre of the four lane road.
“Sure, all of the
stars”, I returned, gesturing intently at the road in front of us and also
struggling with the wife who had got bored with the original song and was
looking for a new one. Which is annoying, pick a song and stick with it.
“Which way?” she
queried a little further along, continuing to ignore the voice from her phone
which obviously wasn’t giving directions home. I found her question strange as
we were along a straight strip of road without any turns required for some
time. In any case, forgetting her question she proceeded into a long monologue
that I found hard to understand and even harder to hear because the wife was
now into a Sting, Rod Stewart and Bryan Adams anthem.
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No, no.
You sing like an angel.
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“Go out?” our driver
interjected, now agitated and pointing at the screen of her phone.
“No, that was Bon
Jovi.” I tried to calm her and then poked my wife who ignored me and stepped up
her rendition of Blaze of Glory. Our driver, obviously confused with that
response, turned in her seat and asked again, “Going here?”, once again
pointing at her phone screen.
“Yes, right there.
You’re doing great!”, I lied but gave her a thumbs-up and she turned back.
Now sitting at a set
of lights, in a car taking up two lanes (because fuck the road I suppose) I got
to thinking. A stereotype in the front, beside me someone who was now covering
the first verse into Right Said Fred’s ‘I’m too Sexy’, I could only assume I
was being punked. This was some sort of gameshow and I got the impression I was
losing.
Bugger it, may as
well enjoy the ride. “Put Bon Jovi back on” I told my wife, then leaned back
and let nature, karma and a middle aged Asian lady direct me the rest of the
way home.
“Yes,”
I interrupted our driver before she got too far into her next question, “All of
the stars."
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