From the Passenger Seat

I must confess: I had never taken an Uber before this summer. I even managed without it the first month here, but, as the dog days of summer set in, I folded and joined the Uber bandwagon. And I will finally admit it: I love Uber. Not because it has forever changed the landscape of transportation, but because I have met the most fascinating people and had a truly international experience all from the comfort of the passenger seat.

There is an unspoken rule that one does not socialize with their Uber driver. The transaction is strictly business. Maybe it is the Midwesterner in me, but I can’t help but strike up a conversation with every Uber driver I have had. It begins somewhere along the lines of, “So...are you originally from DC?”, which is an effective conversation starter nearly 99% of the time, because nearly 99% of Washingtonians are transplants. And like opening Pandora’s box, the most personal life stories come spilling forth.

Khalifa from Nepal was delighted that I even knew Nepal is a country, and was beside himself when I asked if his hometown is anywhere near Kathmandu, the capital city. “You really do know Nepal!” he beamed.

Samuel from Ethiopia asked me what I study in school, and when I replied “international development,” he gushed about his wife and her job at the World Bank.

Michael from Ghana expressed grief about the upcoming presidential election and hoped that he would one day meet President Obama. When I told him I had shaken President Obama’s hand, he pulled over to the curb, pivoted in his seat, grabbed my hand and kissed it. “Now I’ve touched President Obama, too!” he smiled.

Keeny from the Dominican Republic grew up in one of the country’s most violent and crime-ridden towns. She moved here at 18, promptly married, and has not been back since.

John from Nigeria drove the wrong way on a one-way street to pick me up. We laughed about it (only after the benevolent cop who stopped us let us off without a ticket), and he told me about the crazy drivers in Nigeria.

Halefom from Ethiopia has a 4-year-old daughter and a 2-year-old son. “The terrible twos?” I asked. He erupted with laughter he’d never heard that phrase before. “Yes,” he replied, “a very terrible two.”

Gutti picked me up during a torrential storm. His accent nearly inaudible, he told me about life in Sudan before immigrating to the United States as a refugee and his struggle to learn English when he first arrived. He went on to receive his bachelor’s degree in political science and hopes to one day rebuild Sudan.

Perhaps my favorite was Susil, an immigrant from Sri Lanka who has been a professional chauffeur for seven embassies over the past twenty years. I told him I was surprised he knew exactly how to get to the State Department, as most Uber drivers get lost. He glanced back in the rearview mirror, “do you know how many Presidents and Prime Ministers have sat where you’re sitting?”

Suffice it to say, some of the most memorable experiences I have had in DC have been as an Uber passenger. It’s like the speed dating of meeting interesting people; one simple question opens up a lifetime of stories. So if there is a piece of advice somewhere in here it is this: talk to your Uber driver. Or the person next to you on the metro. Their lives are rich with unique experiences and personal narratives. So next time you Uber, resist the urge to reach for your phone and instead reach for those six magic words: “so...are you originally from DC?”

Monica