Tesla’s, TFL & Teary Eyes
Revealing to the world the public places I have had the honour to cry in.
I couldn’t help thinking to myself how oddly Catholic it was. Maybe it was the nervous glances at the mirror when I knew he could hear me sniffling away, or the vertigo from the Tesla that was making me feel like I was stuck in the total square footage of a cubicle, or maybe it was my voice forcing it’s way through so it wouldn’t remain strangled in my throat and once out managing the force of a whisper to ask if he had any tissues to wipe my tears - all the while I was grateful for the darkness in the car and the semblance of anonymity from the driver. I mean I’m not Catholic, but conceptually I feel like I have a solid understanding of how a confessional with a priest would play out, I also had come across too many edits of ‘Fleabag’ that month so maybe the parallels felt more blatant. In this scene thought I guess the only difference is that I wasn’t asking for penance or seeking understanding and my priest was an uber driver that definitely did not sign up for this version of a 45-minute journey.
The right of passage of a Londoner is crying on a form of public transport and not pretending to be embarrassed by it - well, at least in my case I’ve never bothered to feel that way. I remember after a bad formative assessment in 2nd year I jumped on the busiest tube line during peak rush hour; you had people standing toe to toe, squeezing wherever there was a gap and the floodgates broke to the sound of Mitski’s voice and I will never forget the eye contact through the bag straps of the man standing in front of me with the woman across who gave me the most sorrowful half smile which I could only attempt to mimic. Truly that simple expression was so cathartic at the time, it felt like the ‘okay’ to really just allow the emotional release to play out. I wouldn’t be the first or last tube crier. Frankly, I have not been the first or last for many other public spaces. This time though, in the back of that uber was different, it didn’t start and end with a 2 second non-verbal acknowledgement from a stranger and unlike all the other times when I didn’t have to care this journey would end with a review and my ego valued maintaining my 4.98 uber rating.
Well, that went out of the window when after handing me the Kleenex packet he said, “It’s good to cry.”
Mind you all my motor functions were being exerted in doing exactly the opposite, this was an ugly cry I couldn’t hear, see or speak properly I actually had to ask him to repeat himself and all I could muster was a laugh and as a reply that I was having a bad day (I actually said bad life but I’ll save you the melodrama). I don’t remember the exact details from that conversation, just that he talked for a really long time about his life and everything in between that had led him to this point he was actually quite funny so there was a bit of comedic relief between my sniffles. Looking back through my diary entry on that day I think that he was trying to impress on me how life is filled with countless of temporary moments that feel so permanent and are designed to feel insurmountable and yet there is so much after the fact. There are moments where, just like then, feel so suffocating and paralysing until they don’t. Maybe that was not his aim at all, and he was just thinking of ways to make this poor girl stop crying. Whatever the case was, with each response I gave I gradually felt lighter and lighter until eventually I felt more at peace than when I first jumped in. Forget the helplines for the low cost of a 45-minute car ride you could enjoy a substantial amount of unexpected ‘hopium’.
It was a profoundly human moment that as a collective we rarely get to personally experience, at least contextually to London no one dares to burden someone they don’t know with their problems. So, this ‘connection’ with a seemingly random individual was so unexpected but also a welcome communal interaction that we both encouraged. Personal moments are this thing that I have always reserved for personal people in my life, but even now as I type that sentence, I wonder how often that actually is the case. Maybe part of it comes down to age and feeling that the responsibility of being a young adult is to individually navigate the big feelings so those personal people may never even know. In that moment those imaginary social boundaries fell away, and in spite of the prerequisite of relational depth between each other not existing there was still an understanding of the experiences between us and the type of people we were. I consider myself to be quite conversational due to both professional obligation and also my upbringing, so this wasn’t the first time I interacted with the person tasked with driving me to my destination so I know how isolating a job like that can sometimes feel. Not everyone that jumps in a car wants to talk, and silence or background music is the standard to fill the space of the awkward service transaction, this may mean they go hours without talking to someone & that’s why I think he enjoyed talking to me in the same way I felt immense gratitude at the act of him even trying. I make it a bit of point to linger in those moments and at the time were so many. Community in my opinion is majorly overcomplicated, yes, I think there are barriers that exist which can make it feel abstract and only possible with our close family or friends. I sincerely believe though that community is boundless as a concept and extends to fringes of wherever humanity is encouraged and exists. You find it in the waiting area at your GP, or on the Victoria Line to Euston, in the queue for Blank Street and sometimes in the back of a Tesla. If you wish you don’t even have to be emotionally vulnerable, you just have to entertain the moments that ask for more than a recited reply.
If you are wondering – He did give me 5 stars, God bless Uber drivers.
