Astrology. You’re either a firm believer or a steadfast skeptic, and I was always resolute on being the latter. That is, until last Saturday night.
I was sharing an Uber home with a few of my friends, but because I live furthest away, I was left to ride the final third of the 45 minute journey alone with the driver. It’s not something I’m too fussed about, and was frankly thankful for a few silent moments to myself after a night that was honestly a little more fast-paced than my introverted self would prefer (aka a night spent with my popcorn and Netflix).
My Uber driver hadn’t cracked a smile or said a word to any of us from the beginning of the trip to the final drop off before my place, which should have been indication numero uno that he was not your average Uber driver. Regardless, I gladly assumed the rest of the trip would be free from mind-numbingly awkward small talk.
But as I began to sink into the front seat of this wonderfully comfortable Honda Accord while contemplating a subtle micro snooze, he cleared his throat before saying, “Can I ask you a question?”
It was in this moment my life flashed before my eyes. It didn’t take long, because unsurprisingly, my life has been fairly uneventful up until this point.
It was also in this moment I envisioned my older sister’s concerned face, warning me never to sit in the front seat of an Uber when travelling alone. “They can quite easily reach over and stab you,” she’d tell me.
LISTEN: Why I started a women only ride share app. (Post continues after audio.)
I heard nervous laughter escape me in an attempt to fill the void of silence as my brain scanned through every question he could possibly ask me. Will he ask if he can kill me? Do murderers ask before they kill? Or are they more discreet about it?
Finally, I responded with a not-so-convincing “sure”, while bracing myself for the worst.
Then, he asked, “You wouldn’t happen to be a Virgo, would you?”
The weird part? I am, in fact, a Virgo.
Just to clarify, this Uber was ordered on a friend’s account, so he had no way of knowing my name or date of birth. It’s safe to say, I was even more afraid of this man than I ever was before, but was also somewhat intrigued as to how he came to such a specific conclusion.
The only explanation I could come up with was that this man had an Edward Cullen-like ability to read minds. But I’m an adult, darn it.
The driver's response to my fearful facial expression was that he had been assessing the way I interacted with my friends throughout the trip. He had been... watching me.
Firstly, Mr Uber Driver, please keep your eyes, ears, and complete concentration on the road, I beg of you. Secondly, the interactions I make with my friends at 2am in the morning aren't exactly the most accurate depictions of my true self, to say the least. I was a sleepy, nonsensical, slightly tipsy, mess of a person.
Nonetheless, he managed to adamantly determine my star sign with the utmost confidence, from the changing intonation in my voice to the way I held my body while speaking.
Apparently, my responses were “open”, and my body language was "sensible", which were descriptive words all too vague for my liking. I wanted specifics. So, he gave them to me, by accurately pinpointing the personal qualities I hoped weren’t so transparent. Guarded with my emotions, etc., etc., but... let’s not delve deeper here.
After his initial assessments, he then proceeded to offer to “read my face”.
I politely declined. The idea of making sustained eye contact with a stranger who knows a little too much about me was not at all an appealing proposition. Instead, we had a rather thought-provoking conversation about his line of work.
It turns out, this man was a “studier of astrology” who worked this Uber gig for some extra side money. But also, most likely because he gets a kick out of terrifying strangers with his eerie assessments. He had dedicated more than 10 years to studying the craft, and placed his entire existence on the shoulders of astrology.
After I questioned him with all the cynicism I could muster, he almost convinced me that astrology might be an actual science. More commendably, despite my mild interrogation, his unwavering dedication to everything astrology-related definitely supported his case.
So, here’s my final deduction: Astrology is (maybe) real.
Either that, or my Uber driver happened to see the massive ‘Virgo’ tattoo plastered on my forearm... Sorry, bad joke. But you know what they say, Virgos and their blandly humourless jokes…
What's the weirdest experience in a taxi or Uber you've ever had? Tell us in the comments below.
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