Uber Pooling Reflections
This weekend my husband and I had our first night out without our baby. It felt like a small taste of pre-parenthood when we were two carefree adults, unconstrained with responsibility of a little human. The occasion? A work Christmas party for his clients, at a stunning Sydney Harbour restaurant overlooking the iconic Harbour Bridge and Opera House. It was also a full moon which made the outdoor dining that evening all the more scenic.
The lovely dinner came to an end later than anticipated, and the team opted to kick on at a rooftop bar. My husband, being the designated driver for a few of the guys was obliged to stay with the team, so we decided I’d head back home first to relieve my dad from baby sitting duties. I was more than ready to go home which felt like a peaceful sanctuary compared to the busy, bustling city. My social battery was spent and overstimulated after the weeks of being in our newborn bubble.
Going home from the city on a Saturday night filled with rowdy folk celebrating whatever they were celebrating required some consideration. Weighing up the options and ruling out public transport, I landed on ordering an Uber Pool.
I’ve always felt pretty wary of Uber Pool. The idea of riding with strangers doesn’t necessarily appeal to me. But it was nearing Sunday morning and given the circumstances, it felt like the perfect mix of economical and practical. I was the first passenger to be picked up, which thankfully meant I scored dibs on the front seat where I was able to plug in my iPhone to charge as it was sitting at a dangerously low 5%.
The driver continued driving, weaved in and out of lanes with the confidence and fearlessness that only someone who drove people around for a living could have. He eventually stopped at the recently developed, ultra-glamorous Crown Casino. The place was buzzing, spilling over with Saturday night energy. Groups of people scattered around outside, dressed to the nines.
That’s when two young women tumbled into the backseat. Driver: “Monica?”, Young woman 1: “Yep!” They were a vision of confident, carefree, youthful energy. They couldn’t have been past 20. Both had a substantial amount of sequins on their tiny tops. Woman 2 was unabashedly mid-conversation on her iPhone. The conversation, was loud and an exciting blend of gossip and opinionated narration about the night. I felt like it was a window into a world that felt both nostalgic and strangely foreign. It made me nostalgic of the innocence and naivety that we experience as youth, when we’re immersed and intertwined in our social group. The silence of the Uber Pool was suddenly filled with a conversation about the boys at the bar and someone called Sally who they all agreed had “weird energy”. As the three of them, two in the car and third in the call, giggled and chatted away, I sat in the front seat, half-listening, half analysing. Analysing how differently we see and move through the world as we get older.
Making Peace with Change
I see adulthood as a season of refinement. Instead of having a big, bustling crowd of people in your day to day life, you start to focus on your family and the ones who matter most. Through personal hardships and more experiences in the workforce, you become exposed to more types of people, your world view widens and paradigms shift. You learn to appreciate quality over quantity, depth over surface-level small talk.
And as I experienced in that Uber pool, and other times, you can’t help but to sometimes mourn the loss of old connections, but it’s equally important to remember you have the opportunity to curate your life in a more meaningful and intentional way as you get older. The beauty of adulthood is that you get to create the life you want and become more compassionate about the people in this world around you. That’s the biggest blessing; to suddenly see all the grey in this previously black and white world. You can be for yourself, what you used to outsource as a young person dependent on external validation and co-dependent friendships. My relationships—to my partner, my family, my closest friends, my relationship to myself —are the ones that anchor me.
Redefining Connection
Adulthood teaches us that connection and friendship isn’t always about proximity, frequency, or similar views on the world. It’s about the effort, the intention, and the heart behind it. It’s knowing that even if you only see someone twice a year, and even if most of your friendships now are based on “catch ups”, the bond can still be strong.
Adulthood can feel isolating at times, especially if you’re measuring it against the friendships of youth. But it’s also an opportunity—a chance to design a life that’s fulfilling, authentic, and uniquely yours, free of the social shackles that we experience in youth.
