Guys. It's 1:35am and I usually go to bed at 9pm (no, really, I'm lame as hell lately.)
I had another incredible night at The Bay House, where my friend/celebrity chef Andy Hunter cooked fancy shit like swordfish and I introduced my newer meant-to-be through fate friend (Lyn, from the Art Basel post) to one of my older meant-to-be through fate friends (The Renee, from lots of old posts) and it went perfectly but the real magic of the night happened with my Uber driver.
I always talk my Uber driver's ear off. It's my favorite thing about Uber -- getting a 15 minute introduction to another person's life. I want to know how long they have driven for Uber, if they like it, how they ended up in the city they are in, if they have children and how that's going, what their weirdest Uber story is and if it's ever like the HBO show Taxi Cab Confessions (in this order. Don't judge, this is my thing.)
Some of them love me, some of them seem annoyed, but people mostly like to talk about themselves and it's the perfect amount of time to get to know someone without the commitment.
One of my Uber drivers invited me to a medicinal pot farm in Jamaica, one bared his soul about how he missed his two boys and how his divorce had changed him as a human being, one told me how he longed to be a grandparent because he felt empty once his children were grown, one explained snow in vibrant detail (I've never really seen it), one was very concerned about Big Kid and I potentially being stranded in Miami and told us to text him if we needed help. I've talked about love and life and loss and how proud their mothers must be and promised that all would work out in the end. There is something profoundly human in it all; the very best kind of human. Even the ones who clearly wish I would shut up.
My friend and I filled the space with our stories and exclamations and when I dropped her off, I started my Uber interrogation.
He had a two year old and four year old, and only drove on weekends so his wife could stay home. We talked about which areas he preferred and laughed about our area's demographic (old, rich, drunk, in bed early). I asked about his full time job --
"I work at CenturyLink."
CenturyLink is what I thought would be my temporary internet provider while I straightened the Comcast thing out. It's too slow which is why I felt I needed to sell my soul. I'm keeping it now though because Comcast is literally Satan. (That's not hyperbole, I'm actually starting a new religion with that as our creation story -- not just for the tax break, either, this is something I believe in my heart.)
I told him that it was fate that I had ended up in his car that night and apologized for making him pull double duty. I poured my heart out about the Comcast situation, because it still stings, guys, even if they're wrong and I'm right.
"That's the dumbest thing ever. Don't give them your social security card, no matter what you end up doing about internet."
I explained my current dilemma of excruciatingly slow internet.
"Yeah," he said as he pulled into my driveway, "You're kind of at the end of the line here." But he told me who to call and he told me what to say and he suggested some things that might help and promised that my current internet speed could absolutely be improved.
He offered help, which is all I've been asking for, and it wasn't even his official job right then. I just needed a human being to listen to me, and the universe sent one to pick me up.
You will end up exactly where you need to be when you need to be there. People are good. Things are completely out of control all of the time and will work out perfectly anyway.
It is wonderful and terrifying and even though these moments of serendipity are small when it comes down to things like an internet connection, they are perfect reminders that we're on the right path even if that path seems like the long (slow, buffering, stuttering, always loading) way.