The Time I Could’ve Died by Uber in South Africa

Dating again in your late 30s is like riding a bike. But, the bike is on fire. The ground is on fire. Everything is on fire. Because you’re in hell. This came from an accurate meme I recently stumbled upon.

Dating apps only add fuel to this fiery hellscape, magnifying insecurities and turning the quest for love into a thrilling (read: terrifying) adventure. By mid-2018, I decided to brave this inferno and dust off my dating skills, which were last relevant in the era of Nokia phones.

I had to Google terms like "cis male," "pansexual," and "PREP," realizing that an entirely new language had evolved while I was busy doing chores like landscaping and scrubbing grout.

My early attempts at dating in this brave new world were eye-opening. I learned the true meaning of ghosting after a date with a volleyball player (yes, that creative with names) ended with what felt like a slow fade into oblivion. But every cloud has a silver lining, or in my case, a slimy blue giraffe tongue.

I matched with said volleyball player (creative with names, I know) who was working on his residency at a local hospital. We consistently texted until we set a date for breakfast. We decided that we'd go to the zoo and I purchased tickets for the giraffe-feeding activity. Not only was he extremely handsome, but It was what I would consider the perfect date. We walked around the zoo, avoided getting giraffe spit on our hands, and ended the afternoon with coffee. The volleyball player offered to pay me back for the tickets, to which I replied, “Just cover next time.” In hindsight, the look on his face and request that I don't photograph him meant there wouldn’t be a next time. What followed in the coming weeks was what the kids these days call breadcrumbing.

As I thought back to the zoo experience, I admired the bizarre nature of the oddly shaped yet majestic animal. Giraffes don’t care that they stand out and there’s not another animal like them. On the contrary, their uniqueness is an adaptation that allows them to survive. I decided that I wanted to see them in nature.

Trying to Avoid Giraffe Saliva as Captured by the Volleyball Player

The more I came to the realization that I had spent late nights exchanging texts with someone for months who was going to disappear, the more I wanted to prove to myself that I didn’t need anyone else. I wanted a reason for the ugly separation, and momentarily thought the reason for it all was so that I could meet a handsome volleyball-playing doctor who was super smart and enjoyed the outdoors. However, after that, my desire evolved into something akin to demonstrating to myself that I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I used my spare time to see if I could get free tickets to South Africa using miles.

Fast forward to my trip of a lifetime, where I scored a free first-class flight to Johannesburg, South Africa, setting off a chain of events that made me question my sanity and my survival skills.

I was able to get a free first-class flight from my local airport, San Luis Obispo, to Johannesburg, South Africa (a $13,000 value). I would then fly to Egypt via Ethiopia, where I’d meet a close friend of mine. We would leave Cairo together and fly to London and stay with friends. We’d then leave London separately.

While planning the Egypt portion of the trip, my friend mentioned the topic of vaccines to me. She had been to India by herself and was therefore a more seasoned traveler than me. I actually had no recollection of my vaccinations. It also turned out that my mother had lost my childhood vaccination records as I’m sure many moms do.

Friend told me about a travel vaccine program through Costco. They recommended that I get all of the vaccines that I’d need for a trip to Africa since I had no records. However, they did not have the yellow fever vaccine.

“No problem,” I thought. I arranged to get all of the vaccines through Costco and then the yellow fever vaccine through a travel health clinic that wouldn’t bill my health insurance.

Wrong.

It turns out that some of the vaccines that I received from Costco would not work in combination with a yellow fever vaccine. I learned this from the doctor at the travel clinic who spoke to me in an angry stern mother voice.

I’d have to travel without a yellow fever vaccine and hope for the best. I wasn’t concerned because my travel plans didn’t include any yellow fever prevalent areas with the exception of a refueling stop in Ghana. A mosquito that happened to contain the yellow fever virus would have to find its way onto the new Airbus that I was in and bite me instead of any of the hundreds of other passengers.

I felt like the odds of catching yellow fever were as great as getting asked out by the volleyball player again.

Travel day finally arrived. I flew from the local airport to LA, and then on to Washington DC. My adrenaline was pumping as I wondered what I was getting myself into and whether or not I was completely insane for traveling to Africa by myself. I went into the Turkish Airlines lounge, drank several glasses of white wine, and I was feeling good by boarding time. I even created my first Instagram story.

The flight would last 17 hours, including the refueling stop in Ghana. This gave me sufficient time to binge-watch the show everyone was talking about at the time- Big Little Lies. The service on South Africa Airlines was superb, with food and wine to match.

First Sight of the African Continent Over Ghana

Unfortunately, I missed the moment I flew over the equator for the first time because of the show that lived up to the hype.

We landed in Johannesburg before I could finish watching my new favorite show, so Reece, Laura, and Adam would have to wait.

I turned on my phone expecting the same international message I always receive from Sprint (now T Mobile) when arriving in a new country. What should have said, “Welcome to South Africa! Your plan includes coverage that gives you unlimited data plus unlimited texts at no extra cost. Enjoy your stay!” was nothing. My phone decided it was the perfect time to play dead, leaving me stranded at the airport. I hastily jumped into what I thought was an Uber, only to realize mid-ride that it was anything but. Panic ensued as I texted anyone who might be awake, including a guy from a dating app who became my virtual lifeline.

I stood at the doors outside of the O.R. Tambo International Airport restarting my phone wondering what I should do when a man with a seemingly nice face asked me if I needed an Uber. I instantly said yes. He walked me to his car, loaded my luggage, and started the drive to Hilton Sandton in what I would learn is the wealthier part of Johannesburg.

That was when the sinking feeling hit. This was not an Uber. It couldn’t be an Uber because I couldn’t pay him through the app. I instantly started texting everyone I knew at home to see if they were awake using the low-speed free data that took forever.

Traffic from the Airport to the Sandton Neighborhood of Johannesburg.

Only one person answered. Someone from a dating app that I had been chatting with for several months. He had woken up in the middle of the night to get some water when he saw my texts. We’ll call him the Photographer.

“Hey… so… I’m in a stranger’s car that’s not an Uber or taxi. I’m going to send a screenshot of a map of where I am and where I’m going - the Hilton Sandton in Johannesburg. I hope it eventually gets to you. I’ll text you when I get to the hotel to ensure I’m alive” I texted to the Photographer.

The Photographer was, and still is, always a good sport and a supporter. He replied, “I wish I could be more adventurous like you.”

“I don’t think I’m adventurous. I’m just insane and probably suffer from multiple mental illnesses simultaneously at this point” I said.

The driver made small talk with me but I was afraid of sharing too much information with a stranger. We eventually pulled up to a gate at the Hilton. Then, a man came out from a kiosk with a dog. Asked some questions in one of the 13 languages spoken in South Africa, inspected the car, and then opened the gate. The driver drove in.

We pulled up to the front door and a bellman opened my door. I noticed how swanky the hotel was and I let out a sigh of relief. I asked the driver how to pay him and he only took cash. I had withdrawn cash at the airport fortunately, but couldn’t recall how much it was worth in dollars and therefore had no idea how much the guy was charging me. I handed over the cash and he gave me a business card in case I needed more rides during my stay.

I checked into the hotel where I noticed a sign demarcating that the Hilton Sandton was inaugurated in 1997 by none other than King Charles III, then the Prince of Wales, accompanied by a young Prince Harry.

I was living it up!

Once I got settled, I logged into the hotel’s Wi-Fi and texted the Photographer. I then called Sprint’s 800 number. I was pissed. They had me change some settings manually and then I was able to connect. They placated me by telling me that I couldn’t be charged for this very long-distance international call.

The View from my Hilton Sandton Room

As I lay in bed completely exhausted, I wondered if my lesson here is that not everyone in the world is out to get me. Some people are just genuinely nice, like the driver who gave me his business card in case I needed more rides around the city. Life is full of surprises, some good, some bad, and some that could've ended in a fiery crash but turned out to be just fine. And maybe, just maybe, not everyone is out to kill me.