Monday, April 24, 2017

Sometimes I Get Nice Things

Saturday was a day of rest, relaxation but also a day of debauchery and hedonistic pleasures. If this was on TV there would have been a warning about frequent coarse language, sex scenes, drug use and adult themes. Of course I am talking about the freedom gifted by grandparents looking after our offspring. Free from parenting, we took off our badges and joined the throngs of people who have an unhealthy (and very limited) combination of money, time, and an inclination to waste what little there was of both.
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.
Just add cats.
Also more wine.
My wife wasn’t too drunk, she could walk straight but was really festive and at one point during the day had messaged our land-lord to ask if we could get a cat. So if we were labelling it, I would say singing-cat-lady drunk. This was setting the tone and if it helps, imagine reading that using the Wonder Years voiceover.
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.
No, no.
You sing like an angel.
When the incessant babbling stopped, I took a moment to process and it seems our driver was a working mother and was using her time and her BMW to reconnect with the world. Having sort of done the same thing today myself, I felt we had a special bond. The wife turned her phone up louder and tried to drown our conversation with a new song, “I’m going oooooooout!” she sang, not quietly.
“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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