Welcome back to “Dear Daily Freier”, an advice column run by the remarkably unqualified! This week we take the questions of our favorite pen pal, Sari Ellen, who has some issues with a certain
jerk Transportation App….
Dear Daily Freier: Hi-oosh!! So last Thursday night, last minute, there was an ad in my girls-only WhatsApp group for a Female Side of the Moon/Cacao Ceremony/Sound Bath Ritual. Only 500 sheks!! WOW!! I hadn’t had a Sound Bath in a week, so I was, like, yalla!!
I paid. Got my e-ticket. Yada yada yada.
I quickly stripped off two layers of clothes; then added the big boots, nine chains and my shih tzu, Schmutzy. I was on my way.
Problem arose when I opened my Moovit app so it could do its thing directing me to the appropriate bus.
In the sweet early days when Moovit and I first got together, Moovit had been super supportive. I’d paid for the ad-free version and Moovit seemed genuinely fascinated by wherever I wanted to go. Moovit listened, he really listened. Noted my preferences. Repeatedly asked when, and precisely how, I yearned to arrive. I’d type in my destination and Moovit figured out the rest. We just worked. No interruptions. No digressions into Incognito Mode to sneak off with another rider. I didn’t think I was misreading the signals. Moovit seemed to be truly madly deeply focused on me.
I wondered, could Moovit be The One? The app of my dreams? Should I tell my folks in New Jersey? I couldn’t have been happier. Our interaction was satisfying, like pure pleasure. And so, last Thursday, when I told Moovit where I wanted to go, same as I had many times before, the only thing I expected was yet another smooth easy ride.
As always, Moovit set out the route from my home to the closest bus stop. Then Moovit told me when my bus would arrive. I did my share, too. Made it to the bus stop on time. Patiently waited. Six minutes. Five minutes. Four minutes. Three minutes. Two minutes. One minute. Then Moovit said “Now.” Y’know how that goes, right? My bus was coming “Now.”
Only no bus ever came. I stared into the distance. Gajillion trucks, buses, cars, vans, motorcycles, e-bikes, scooters. Everything but the bus I was expecting. I couldn’t believe Moovit would let me down. For another five minutes Moovit insisted my bus was coming “Now.”
And I believed. I really did. But then the word “Now” disappeared from my screen.
My bus was gone. Like how does a whole bus disappear? And how could Moovit have ghosted me like that? Without warning. Not one single waving red flag.
I’ve been very perplexed ever since. Is this the Universe’s way of telling me I should return to New Jersey? Can a bus be commitment-phobic? I mean, after all, we’re talking Tel Aviv. Should I keep waiting at the bus stop? Or, maybe, should I look up that bartender, Dudi, who offered me a ride to wherever I wanted to go…. whenever…. wherever….
Only not to his apartment, because Dudi says that his roommates are almost always home. Also, most of his roommates believe that they’re his kids, while another seems to think that she’s his wife.
Good Vibes Only
Dear Good Vibes Only,
You should totally rebound with that sketchy app Waze who lives in the Shuk but takes his laundry home to his mom in Hadera every weekend.
(Editors Note: If you think this is the first time that the Daily Freier has used Tel Aviv’s public transportation system as a metaphor for boy problems, you have a lot to learn about the Daily Freier.)