![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cpostropheI don't take Ubers or cabs often, but when I do I have noticed that drivers in the Northeast aren't particularly chatty, whereas almost every driver that I have had in Chicago will want to talk about something. Sometimes they're giving unsolicited advice. Sometimes they want to expound on their anti-vaxxer theories. Sometimes they just want to tell you about the car that they're driving.
I was in Chicago earlier this week for a short series of meetings. It was good to be in the office, but it was one of those really dense visits where by the time I'm getting my Lyft to O'Hare, I have a backlog of emails and follow ups from these meetings that make me one of those stereotypical business travelers who is just furiously tapping into their phone. My driver is a male person of color. His current music is 00s R&B.
He asks me where I'm flying to, and I say "Boston." He asks if that's home. I say, "yes." He proceeds to tell me how he worked for a while as a chauffeur for Boston Coach, and he's obviously not taking my monosyllabic replies as a hint that I don't feel like a conversation. He says, "can I ask you something?"
You know, what? The emails can wait. Fine, let's do this.
"Sure, ask away."
"So, when Trump says he wants those Israeli hostages released or else 'all hell will break loose' what do you think he means?"
Ok, so this is going to be that kind of conversation. This is Tuesday, two days before news would break that the Biden and Trump teams would manage to negotiate the hostage release but I still shook my head and said, "like all hell hasn't already broken loose in Gaza. I don't know what he means. I've long ago given up getting worked up about what he says. It's what he does that matters."
This is that delicate dance of two strangers trying to figure out whether we're going to spend the next hour fighting or agreeing. I'm a guy so I have the privilege of finding this exchange to be non-threatening, but I still hate that this is a thing that has taken up all of the oxygen in our lives.
"I think you got that right," he says, "the man just talks a big game. He's trying to talk like he's this badass but all he does is kiss the ass of dictators like Putin."
There is probably a German word for that feeling you get when you meet a stranger and you're relieved to find out that they're more friend than foe. Again, I hate that this is our life.
He keeps going. "I gotta tell ya. When I'm not driving, I'm a pastor. And the young men in my community they say that Trump is a G. And I'm, like, do you not understand the history of this man? This is the man who was redlining his apartments and refusing to rent to black men. This is the man who tried to get a bunch of young men falsely convicted as the Central Park Five. You think he's on your side? You're gonna call him a G?"
"Pastor, I don't admire the man. I think him getting elected is a tragedy for this country. But my guess is that your young men may recognize that Trump isn't on their side, but they respect his game. They see him as willing to do whatever it takes to get what he wants, and nothing is able to get in his way. Nothing more gangster than that."
"But at what cost? All of those families he separated. The riot at the Capitol. All of the COVID deaths."
"And not to mention the loss of reproductive freedom. We agree, but again, the story of America is the story of a people who wanted to do their own thing and don't like other people telling them what to do. The American myth of rugged individualism is all about the opportunity to go into the frontier and just taming it by sheer force of will and the occasional willingness to commit genocide. You have to admit, ain't nothing closer to that right now than Trump.
"though of course," I continued, "we have several myths. About working together and building communities, but that rugged individualism story is powerful, and you can't take it lightly or just dismiss it out of hand. You need something equally powerful to counter it."
"In the end," he said, "the Lord knows the wicked from the good, and He will measure you accordingly."
"But, pastor, what use is it to preach fairness if we live in an unfair world? Maybe some of your congregation have doubts about whether God is there or whether He's paying attention. They just see the ways that Trump and his cronies are getting away with crimes and it just gets harder and harder to make ends meet. So why not get some for yourself? God will understand. You're just looking out for yourself and your family. But you'll know what you did, and if you look in the mirror, you'll see your guilt."
"I like that! At the end of the day, you have to live with yourself. You will know the sins that you've committed, and that guilt will follow you."
"And, you know, people in your community will know if you're standup person. Respect and admiration for being rich just lasts as long as you can manage to be rich, but people will remember if you treated well, if you made them feel safe, and if you helped them out. And right now we all gotta look out for each other, because we know that Trump won't."
"Oh man, as soon as I drop you off I gotta write some of this stuff down."
"Isn't Inauguration Day this Monday? I guess we know what your sermon's going to be."
"'We all gotta look out for each other, because we know that Trump won't.' I'm going to borrow that."
"You can have it, pastor. Good luck. I mean it."
Ok, so that wasn't so bad.
(disclaimer: most of this was complete from my memory but I left out a long digression where the pastor driver was telling me about Youtube videos he's seen alleging that the Trump assassination was faked, and I had to introduce him to the concept of 'stochastic terrorism' while debunking a bunch of his conspiracy ideas, most of which I generally found to be pretty tedious)
I was in Chicago earlier this week for a short series of meetings. It was good to be in the office, but it was one of those really dense visits where by the time I'm getting my Lyft to O'Hare, I have a backlog of emails and follow ups from these meetings that make me one of those stereotypical business travelers who is just furiously tapping into their phone. My driver is a male person of color. His current music is 00s R&B.
He asks me where I'm flying to, and I say "Boston." He asks if that's home. I say, "yes." He proceeds to tell me how he worked for a while as a chauffeur for Boston Coach, and he's obviously not taking my monosyllabic replies as a hint that I don't feel like a conversation. He says, "can I ask you something?"
You know, what? The emails can wait. Fine, let's do this.
"Sure, ask away."
"So, when Trump says he wants those Israeli hostages released or else 'all hell will break loose' what do you think he means?"
Ok, so this is going to be that kind of conversation. This is Tuesday, two days before news would break that the Biden and Trump teams would manage to negotiate the hostage release but I still shook my head and said, "like all hell hasn't already broken loose in Gaza. I don't know what he means. I've long ago given up getting worked up about what he says. It's what he does that matters."
This is that delicate dance of two strangers trying to figure out whether we're going to spend the next hour fighting or agreeing. I'm a guy so I have the privilege of finding this exchange to be non-threatening, but I still hate that this is a thing that has taken up all of the oxygen in our lives.
"I think you got that right," he says, "the man just talks a big game. He's trying to talk like he's this badass but all he does is kiss the ass of dictators like Putin."
There is probably a German word for that feeling you get when you meet a stranger and you're relieved to find out that they're more friend than foe. Again, I hate that this is our life.
He keeps going. "I gotta tell ya. When I'm not driving, I'm a pastor. And the young men in my community they say that Trump is a G. And I'm, like, do you not understand the history of this man? This is the man who was redlining his apartments and refusing to rent to black men. This is the man who tried to get a bunch of young men falsely convicted as the Central Park Five. You think he's on your side? You're gonna call him a G?"
"Pastor, I don't admire the man. I think him getting elected is a tragedy for this country. But my guess is that your young men may recognize that Trump isn't on their side, but they respect his game. They see him as willing to do whatever it takes to get what he wants, and nothing is able to get in his way. Nothing more gangster than that."
"But at what cost? All of those families he separated. The riot at the Capitol. All of the COVID deaths."
"And not to mention the loss of reproductive freedom. We agree, but again, the story of America is the story of a people who wanted to do their own thing and don't like other people telling them what to do. The American myth of rugged individualism is all about the opportunity to go into the frontier and just taming it by sheer force of will and the occasional willingness to commit genocide. You have to admit, ain't nothing closer to that right now than Trump.
"though of course," I continued, "we have several myths. About working together and building communities, but that rugged individualism story is powerful, and you can't take it lightly or just dismiss it out of hand. You need something equally powerful to counter it."
"In the end," he said, "the Lord knows the wicked from the good, and He will measure you accordingly."
"But, pastor, what use is it to preach fairness if we live in an unfair world? Maybe some of your congregation have doubts about whether God is there or whether He's paying attention. They just see the ways that Trump and his cronies are getting away with crimes and it just gets harder and harder to make ends meet. So why not get some for yourself? God will understand. You're just looking out for yourself and your family. But you'll know what you did, and if you look in the mirror, you'll see your guilt."
"I like that! At the end of the day, you have to live with yourself. You will know the sins that you've committed, and that guilt will follow you."
"And, you know, people in your community will know if you're standup person. Respect and admiration for being rich just lasts as long as you can manage to be rich, but people will remember if you treated well, if you made them feel safe, and if you helped them out. And right now we all gotta look out for each other, because we know that Trump won't."
"Oh man, as soon as I drop you off I gotta write some of this stuff down."
"Isn't Inauguration Day this Monday? I guess we know what your sermon's going to be."
"'We all gotta look out for each other, because we know that Trump won't.' I'm going to borrow that."
"You can have it, pastor. Good luck. I mean it."
Ok, so that wasn't so bad.
(disclaimer: most of this was complete from my memory but I left out a long digression where the pastor driver was telling me about Youtube videos he's seen alleging that the Trump assassination was faked, and I had to introduce him to the concept of 'stochastic terrorism' while debunking a bunch of his conspiracy ideas, most of which I generally found to be pretty tedious)
