Every time I get into an Uber I think…this is the night I’m going to be murdered.
The person knows my name, and I’m never totally confident that it’s because I told them.
They have my address but I’m not sure why.
Sometimes the picture doesn’t match the driver…I still get in the car…I don’t want to offend the driver by asking them what happened to the black man in the circle picture driving the minivan.
They joke with me, and I’m sure it’s to throw me off from their master plan to kill me and my family.
Have you seen the movie The Bone Collector? If you haven’t, check out the scene with the cab ride. Chilling.
Sometimes they like to chit chat which somewhat eases the tension, but sometimes they don’t…which totally freaks me out!
Asking for heat or air seems like a death wish.
Can you still investigate a crime that you paid for?
I keep doing this.
I keep ordering Uber.
I won’t stop because it’s just so damn convenient.