Is "Myanmarese" a language? No, it is not.
"Burmese" and "Burma" are not in Google Translate
Yes, that is what he said, if I may paraphrase.
Often when people find out I’m a rideshare driver, or when they’re riding with me, they want to hear my craziest rideshare stories. Nine out of ten times they want to know if anybody ever threw up in my car.
So here you go. Installment one of The Rideshare Car Barf Series, an adventure in three parts (yes, there are more where these came from).
So I pull up to Gecko’s bar and the host comes running out.
“Can you take a guy home for me?”
“Of course.”
It happens from time to time. At this point in over three years driving Uber, it had never gone south. No one had yet vomited in my car. It concerned me but not greatly.
“Let me go get him.”
He returns with a very short, extremely drunk man, who collapses into the back seat and appears to fall instantly asleep.
“I think he wants to go to the Downtown Marriott, but I’m not 100% certain.”
"Um… okay… "
That’s not a good sign, but um, okay.
“The last guy threw up all over the car but I don’t think he will.”
“He doesn’t speak English so I did the best I could. The last guy threw up all over the car but I don’t think he will.”
“Wow, thanks?”
Oh… boy… at least he seemed to be out cold. So off we drove, about 15 minutes south to the hotel, where, on arrival, he revived somewhat. Enough to gesture and say, “no! No no no!”
I turned to ask him what he meant, or where he wished to go. But as the host had said, he spoke no English.
I asked where he came from, hoping to use Google Translate.
“Burma!”
Is "Myanmarese" a language? No, it is not.
"Burmese" and "Burma" are not in Google Translate
Great. A country with over 200 languages, none of which showed up in the app. In the heat of the moment I never imagined I’d have to search “Myanmar” since that’s a country not a language… So we reverted to gestures and grunts, and he pointed east.
Here we go, I thought. I’ll be driving this guy around all night! Which for a good while it sure seemed like we’d be doing.
We circled randomly around a few neighborhoods not far from the hotel. All the while, the host from the bar frantically blowing up my chat, wanting to know what’s going on, am I getting there… Until suddenly my rider gestures frantically for me to stop! Stop! Jumps out, runs to a house, and that was the end of it.
The best part? He never barfed in my car. I had escaped the inevitable once more.
Want more? On to Part 2, Night of the Bartenders.
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