We were in the middle of watching “Jexi” (we see every movie that comes to town) when my husband got a call from the ER. Someone shot a nail through his hand with a nail gun.
We had made the rooky mistake of driving only one car while Mark was on call. Usually not a problem as back in Boulder it is as simple as Uber or Lyft, but after Mark hurried out of the theater I started to wonder if this town had either.
There were “No Cars Available” when I first checked the app after the movie let out.
I decided to wait a bit and try again. The kids were still hungry even after consuming a vat of popcorn each, so we headed out to find a place to eat.
“Mom, tell Anders to stop stepping on my heels!” my daughter screeched as I once again checked the UBER app. And again, not seeing what I wanted.
“Anders, stop stepping on your sister’s heels,” I said with the authority of a mother whose disciplinary backbone was snapped in two, tossed into a fire pit, and went up in flames a long time ago.
“Mom, he’s still doing it!”
“I’m not doing anything!”
“Mom! He’s lying!”
“No, I’m not”
“Yes you are! Mom!”
“No Cars Available, Sucka!” read the app.
A patrol car suddenly pulls up to the curb and stops. An officer leans across the passenger seat to talk to me.
“Are you three okay?” he asks.
“We’re fine, thank you!” I say cheerfully. And he drives on.
I don’t know if he pulled over because we were the only pedestrians anywhere, and that seemed strange to him, or if he could tell my kids were about to come to blows.
After crossing two big empty parking lots we came to a place called Paradisios which is just one of several restaurants in the area that specialize solely in American, Mexican, Greek, Chinese, and Italian cuisine. Because there was a wall mural featuring the Acropolis I figured my best bet was to order off the Greek menu page.
I ordered the Gyros Platter as the waitress nodded (approvingly?)
I then asked, “do you have Uber here?”
She nodded again, “Harry.”
“Harry?”
“Yeah, there is only one Uber driver, Harry.”
She peers at my phone which is open to the app. Still, “No Cars Available.”
“Harry’s busy,” I say. She looks like she expected as much.
So, it was a retro moment as I looked up the number called a cab company. The dispatcher told me a taxi would be there eventually but warned me I was way down on the wait list, that they were very busy, and that he had no idea when his driver could get to me. I’m old enough to remember this routine well. I have an anxiety provoking flashback of being at a friend’s apartment in San Francisco and waiting for a cab I had called hours in advance, only to eventually miss my international flight.
“Mom, tell Anders to stop stealing my fries!” my daughter whines.
“So, like what time….?” I ask the dispatcher.
“I have no idea, just letting you know it’ll be awhile.”
“Stop taking my fries! Mom!?”
“If you had to guess is awhile 15-minutes? Or more like 3 hours?” I ask because I am capable of being that bitchy city-slicker from the lower 48.
“I have no idea.”
“Mom! He’s still doing it!”
The cavalry arrived much sooner than expected, seven minutes maybe. I don’t even think Harry could have made it to us so fast.
Pleasant enough Alaska Cab driver, but on the way home my mind was occupied thinking about Harry.
What was he so busy doing that he couldn’t come get us?
Was he out having fun?
Will he always be “unavailable” when I need him the most?
I don’t like to be ignored, Harry.
The idea that I might never meet Harry is unacceptable somehow and I decided I can’t just leave it up to fate. I’m going to keep checking my Uber app regardless of whether I actually need a ride because one day a little car will appear on that little map and I’ll know exactly who is driving it. Then I’ll watch as Harry goes from being 10 minutes away, to five minutes away, to one minute away…
I am on the edge of my seat… 😃
Me too!